# The Memoirs of the Conquistador Bernal Diaz del Castillo

## CONQUEST

##### OF

## MEXICO AND NEW SPAIN.

## CHAPTER I. {.chapter}
*The time of my departure from Castile, and what further happened to me.*

In the year 1514, I left Castile as part of the retinue of Pedro Arias de Avila, who had just been appointed governor of Terra Firma. At sea, we sometimes had bad weather, sometimes good, until we arrived at Nombre Dios, where a plague was raging: many of our men died from it, and most of us suffered terrible sores on our legs and other illnesses. Shortly after our arrival, disputes arose between the governor and a wealthy nobleman named Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, who had subdued this province and had married one of Avila’s daughters. However, when suspicion fell upon him due to his plan to explore the South Sea at his own expense—which required a significant number of troops—his own father-in-law not only deposed him but also sentenced him to be beheaded.

While we witnessed these events, and also saw soldiers rebelling against their officers, we heard that the island of Cuba had just been conquered and that a nobleman from Quellar, named Diego Velasquez, had been appointed its governor. After hearing this, some of us—cavaliers and soldiers, all persons of quality who had come with Pedro Arias de Avila—asked his permission to go to Cuba. He readily agreed, not having enough employment for the large number of men he had brought from Spain. There was also no further territory left to conquer in these parts; everything was at peace, so completely had his son-in-law Balboa subdued the country, which was moreover small and sparsely populated. As soon as we received permission, we boarded a good ship and set sail. Our voyage was very successful, and we soon arrived in Cuba. Our first action was to pay our respects to the governor, who welcomed us kindly and promised us the first Indians to become available. However, three years passed from our initial arrival at Terra Firma and our stay in Cuba, while we continued waiting in vain for the Indians we had been promised. During all this time, we accomplished nothing of note; so we—the 110 who had come from Terra Firma, along with other men in Cuba who also had no Indians—met with a wealthy cavalier named Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba. He was not only wealthy but also had a great number of Indians on the island. We chose him as our captain to lead us on voyages to discover new lands where we might find sufficient opportunities.

We bought three vessels, two of considerable size; the third was given to us by the governor, Diego Velasquez, on the condition that we first raid the Guanajas Islands (between Cuba and Honduras) and bring him three loads of Indians for slaves as payment for the vessel. We knew quite well this demand from Diego Velasquez was unjust and replied that neither God nor the king had ordered us to enslave free people. When he heard our answer, he agreed that our project to discover new lands was more praiseworthy and provided us with provisions for our voyage.

Now we had three vessels and a good supply of cassava bread, as is made from the yuca root there. We also bought some pigs, which cost us three pesos each; at that time, there were neither cows nor sheep on Cuba. I should also mention a limited supply of other provisions, while each soldier took some glass beads for trading. We had three pilots; the main pilot in charge was Anton de Alaminos, from Palos; the other two were Camacho de Triana and Juan Alvarez el Manquillo from Huelva. Likewise, we hired sailors and supplied ourselves with ropes, anchors, water-casks, and other necessities for the voyage, all at our own expense and risk.

After we assembled—all 110 of us—we departed for a harbor on Cuba’s north coast, called Ajaruco by the natives. This place was twenty-four miles from the then recently built town of San Christoval, as Havana had only been in our possession for two years. To make sure our group lacked nothing essential, we engaged a priest in San Christoval. His name was Alonso Gonzalez, and we persuaded him to join us with fair words and promises. We also appointed, on behalf of His Majesty, a treasurer named Beruardino Miguez, a native of Saint Domingo de la Calzada. This was done so that if, by God’s will, we discovered new lands with gold, silver, or pearls, there would be someone qualified among us to manage the emperor’s share. Once everything was prepared and we had attended Mass, we commended ourselves to God, our Lord Jesus Christ, and his blessed mother, the Virgin Mary, and set out on our way, as I will now relate.

## CHAPTER II. {.chapter}
*Of the Discovery of Yucatan, and the battle we fought there with the Natives.*

In 1517, we set sail from the harbor of Jaruco and left Havana. This harbor, on Cuba’s north coast, is so called by the natives. After sailing twelve days along the coast of Saint Antonius (the land of the Guanatavies, a wild tribe), we struck out for the open sea, always heading west, knowing nothing of the shoals, currents, or prevailing winds of those latitudes. It was, in truth, a risky move, and we soon met a terrible storm that lasted two days and nights, during which we nearly all perished.

After the storm calmed and we changed course, we sighted land on the twenty-first day after leaving Cuba, filling us with joy and gratitude to God. No one had ever discovered or heard of this land. From our ships, we could see a sizeable town, about six miles inland. Because it was larger than any Cuban town, we named it *Grand Cairo*.

We decided to send our smallest ship close to shore to examine the area and look for a good anchorage. On the morning of March 5th, we saw five large canoes full of men rowing and sailing rapidly from the town toward us. These canoes, hollowed from huge tree trunks like kneading troughs, were large enough to carry forty to fifty people.

As they approached, we signaled peace and friendship, beckoning for them to come aboard so we could speak, for none of us yet knew the Yucatan or Mexican languages. The Indians came alongside fearlessly, and over thirty climbed aboard our main ship. We offered them bacon and cassava bread and gave each a necklace of green glass beads. After inspecting the ship for a while, the chief, who was a cazique, indicated by signs that he wanted to return to his canoe but would come the next day with more canoes to take us ashore. These Indians wore cotton cloaks and a small apron, called a maltates, hanging from their hips to halfway down the thigh. They were more intelligent than the Cubans, where only women wear a similar apron called a nagua.

Continuing, early the next morning, the cazique returned with twelve large canoes and many rowers. He signaled to our captain that we were friends, invited us to his town, offered us plenty of food, and would bring us ashore in his canoes. I will never forget how he said repeatedly, in his own language, *con escotoch*, *con escotoch*, meaning, “come with me to my houses yonder.” We named the area Punta de Cotoche, and this is how it appears on sea charts.

Given these repeated friendly invitations, our captain consulted with us, and we decided to lower the boats, bring our smallest ship, and go ashore together with the twelve canoes, as the coast was crowded with Indians from the village. We arrived together, but since we did not immediately proceed to the village, the cazique again signaled that we should follow him, making so many friendly gestures that, after a second consultation, we agreed, while staying alert and marching in close order, arms ready. We brought fifteen crossbows and as many matchlocks and followed the cazique with his many attendants.

As we walked and neared some rocky hills, the cazique suddenly shouted, signaling his warriors, who had been lying in ambush, to attack and destroy us. At his signal, large numbers of armed warriors rushed out furiously, showering us with arrows—fifteen of our men were wounded immediately. They wore cotton armor, and carried lances, shields, bows, and slings, each with a tuft of feathers on their head. After firing arrows, they attacked with their lances using both hands. But when they felt our swords and saw how destructive our crossbows and matchlocks were, they soon began to retreat. Fifteen of their number lay dead.

Near the scene of the attack stood three stone and lime houses—temples containing many clay idols, some with devilish faces, some female, and others of monstrous shape, depicting Indians committing terrible acts. In these temples, we also found small wooden boxes with other hideous idols, small shells, ornaments, three crowns, and other trinkets, some fish-shaped, some duck-shaped—all made from poor-quality gold. Seeing this gold and the good construction of the temples, we were overjoyed at discovering the country. (Peru would not be discovered for another sixteen years.) While we fought, the priest Gonzalez had the gold and small idols carried to our ships by two Cuban Indians. We captured two natives, who later agreed to be baptized and became Christians: one was named Melchior, the other Julian; both had tattooed eyelids. With the battle over, we decided to re-embark and continue our exploration along the coast to the west. Once our wounded were treated, we sailed on.

## CHAPTER III. {.chapter}
*Discovery of the Coast of Campeachy.*

Continuing further west along the coast as planned, we found many promontories, bays, reefs, and shallow areas. We all believed this land was an island, because our pilot, Anton de Alaminos, insisted it was. During the day, we sailed with caution, but lay at anchor at night. After fourteen days, we spotted another sizeable village. There was a bay with an inner harbor, and it seemed there might be a river or stream where we could refill our water supply, which was running scarce since our casks—purchased cheaply—were failing. As our expedition was organized by men of limited means, we could not afford better. It was on Sunday Lazari that we landed, and so we named the place for the day, although we knew the Indians called it the land of *Campeachy*.

For all of us to land together, we agreed to go ashore in our smallest ship and three boats, fully armed in case of another attack like the one at Cotoche. The local waters are shallow, so our two largest ships had to anchor over three miles from shore. Thus, we landed near the village but were still some distance from the spot where we intended to fill our casks, as the natives also fetched water from there—for there was no stream nearby.

After bringing the casks ashore and filling them, but before we could re-embark, about fifty well-dressed Indians, all wearing cotton mantles and appearing to be caziques, approached. They asked our purpose by signs. We told them we were getting water and would soon set out again. They pointed to the sunrise and asked if we came from there, saying the word *Castilan*, *Castilan*; at the time, we paid little attention to this. They also made it clear we could visit their village.

We held a consultation and decided to follow their invitation but maintained every precaution. They led us to large stone-and-lime buildings which turned out to be temples, the walls painted with images of snakes and various deities. Beside a sort of altar, we saw several fresh bloodstains, and on some idols, cross-like figures and other paintings showing groups of Indians. This shocked us; we had never seen or heard of such things before. It seemed the inhabitants had just sacrificed people to ask their gods for power to defeat us.

There were many Indians and their wives, welcoming us warmly, but as their numbers grew, we began to fear things might turn hostile as at Cape Cotoche. Meanwhile, some Indians in tattered cloaks, each carrying bundles of dried reeds, began arranging them on the ground. We also saw two groups of armed men with bows, lances, shields, slings, and stones, wearing cotton armor. The chiefs stood at the head of these groups, a bit away from us. Then ten Indians came out of another temple in long white robes, their long hair so matted and clotted with blood that it couldn't be untangled without cutting. These were the priests, called *Papas* in New Spain. I repeat—the priests there are called papas, and I will use this term from now on. These papas brought incense that looked like resin (copal) in clay pans of hot embers and perfumed us. They indicated by signs that we should leave their land before the bundles of reeds, which they were about to set alight, had burned away or else they would kill us all.

At this, they started burning the bundles, and all fell silent. Meanwhile, the armed men played pipes, sounded twisted shells, and beat drums. Realizing from their confidence what their real intentions were, and remembering that the wounds from Cape Cotoche had not healed and two of our men had died and been buried at sea, and seeing the increasing crowd, we became alarmed and decided to retreat to the shore in good order. We marched along the coast to where our boats and the ship with the water-casks waited. Not far from this spot stood a rock in the sea; afraid the crowd might attack us while we boarded, we dared not re-embark at our landing place.

After ensuring our water was all safely onboard, we left the small harbor and traveled for six days and nights without interruption, the weather being fair. Suddenly, a north wind blew up a storm, as often happens on this coast. The storm lasted twenty-four hours, and we nearly all drowned, so violent was the sea. Hoping to save ourselves, we anchored near shore. Our ship’s safety depended on just two ropes; if they had failed, we would have been wrecked. It was only Providence that saved us. When the storm abated, we stayed close to shore, so we could again get water when needed. Our casks being old and leaky, we never had enough, and thought we could always get more by digging if no stream was found. Coasting along, we sighted a village from our ships and, about three miles further, a kind of inner harbor at the head of which seemed a brook or river. So we decided to land there.

As the water was so shallow, we anchored the two larger ships about three miles off and took the smallest ship and all the boats ashore, bringing arms, crossbows, and muskets as well as the water-casks.

It was about midday when we landed. The village, Potonchan, was three miles away. There we found wells, maize plantations, and stone buildings. Our casks were soon filled, but before we could get them into our boats, we were attacked by large numbers of inhabitants. I will stop here and relate the battle in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER IV. {.chapter}
*How we landed in a bay near some maize fields, close to the harbor of Potonchan, and what happened when we were attacked there.*

While we were busy gathering water near the mentioned houses and maize fields, large numbers of Indians approached us from the village of Potonchan, as the locals called it. They wore cotton armor down to their knees and were armed with bows, lances, shields, and swords. Their swords were broad and wielded with both hands, much like our broadswords. The Indians also carried slings and stones, wore bunches of feathers, and had their bodies painted in white, brown, and black. They came towards us in complete silence, as if they meant only peace, and asked by signs if we had come from the direction of the sunrise, using the same words spoken by the inhabitants of St. Lazaro: *Castilan, Castilan*. We replied by signs that we had indeed come from the rising sun. We didn't understand what they meant, but it made us reflect, sparking much speculation, since people at St. Lazaro had said exactly the same thing.

It was about the hour of Ave Maria when the Indians came this way. A few farmhouses were scattered throughout the area. We posted watches in several areas and stayed alert, as the way the natives were gathering did not bode well. After we had all gathered and made our preparations, suddenly we heard shouts and cries from large groups of Indians coming from different directions. Since they were all armed for battle, we could no longer doubt their intentions. We held a meeting with our captain about what to do. Some advised we re-embark as quickly as possible, but as always happens during a crisis, one person suggested one plan and another something different, so this proposal was rejected as too risky. The vast number of Indians would attack while we tried to get to the boats and likely kill us all. Others among us, myself included, thought best to attack the enemy that very night, since “he who strikes first wins the field.” Still, we knew each of us would face at least thirty Indians alone.

Day began to break, and we encouraged each other to face the coming fight, putting our trust in God and commending our cause to him. Each of us was determined to defend ourselves as best we could. As daylight grew, we spotted more groups of armed natives coming to the coast under waving banners. They wore feathered headpieces, and carried drums, bows, lances, and shields; they soon joined the others who had arrived during the night. They divided into different groups, surrounded us from all sides, and launched a barrage of arrows, lances, and stones, wounding over eighty of our men in the first attack. They rushed forward, attacking at close quarters with lances, swords, and arrows, doing so with such force that we were forced to fight back with equal seriousness. We fought hard, trading blows and thrusts, all while keeping up constant musket and crossbow fire—some loaded while others fired. Finally, with heavy fighting, we forced them to fall back, but only just enough to keep menacing us safely, still calling out in their language, *Al calachoni, al calachoni*, meaning, “Kill the chief!” Our captain was hit with no less than twelve arrows. I was struck three times—one in my left side, dangerously deep, piercing to the bone. Other men were also wounded by lances, and two were taken captive: one named Alonzo Bote, the other an old Portuguese.

Seeing how completely we were surrounded by enemies, who constantly sent fresh troops and were supplied with food, drink, and many arrows on the field, we quickly realized our brave fighting wouldn’t get us anywhere. All of us were wounded—some shot through the neck—and over fifty men killed. In this dire situation, we decided to force our way through the enemy and reach the boats, which luckily were still on the beach close by. We closed ranks and broke through. At that moment, the sound of arrows whizzing, wild yells from the Indians, and fierce thrusts with their lances filled the air. Worse, as we rushed the boats, many soon sank or capsized, forcing us to cling to whatever we could and swim toward the small ship, which was hurrying to help us. Many were wounded even while trying to climb aboard, especially those hanging off the sides, as the Indians pursued in canoes and attacked us all the way. By God’s grace and our greatest effort, we finally escaped these people.

Once back on our ships, we found that fifty-seven men were missing, along with the two taken alive, and five more we had thrown overboard who died from wounds and terrible thirst. The battle lasted just over half an hour. The place was certainly called Potonchan, though our sailors named it Bahea de mala Pelea (“the bay of the disastrous engagement”), as it is marked on maps. When we found ourselves out of danger, we thanked God for preserving our lives. Our wounded still faced great suffering, since we had only salt water to wash their wounds, which made them swell terribly. Some of our men cursed our chief pilot, Alaminos, and his leadership; he had insisted this was an island, not part of the continent. I will stop here for now, and in the next chapter, tell what happened next.

## CHAPTER V. {.chapter}
*We set out to return to Cuba. The severe thirst we suffered, and all our hardships until we arrived at the port of Havana.*

After reaching our ships as described, and giving thanks to God for sparing us, we began to treat our wounds. None of us escaped without two, three, or even four wounds. Our captain had as many as twelve, and only a single soldier came out unharmed. We decided to head back to Cuba, but since most of the sailors who came ashore were also wounded, we didn’t have enough hands to work the ships. We had to burn our smallest vessel and let it drift, after removing all the ropes, sails, and anchors, and redistributing the uninjured sailors between the two remaining ships. Yet we faced an even bigger problem: desperate thirst. Though we had filled our barrels and casks near Potonchan, we’d had to leave them behind in the chaos of the attack, meaning we set off without a drop of fresh water. Our suffering from thirst was intense, and the only relief was to cool our tongues by holding the edges of our axes between our lips. Truly, to attempt discovery of new lands and put one’s life in such danger is a terrible endeavor—only those who have been through such trials can really understand.

We coasted as close to land as possible, watching for any stream or creek that might have fresh water. After three days, we saw what seemed to be a river’s mouth and sent a party of fifteen sailors and three lightly wounded soldiers ashore with pickaxes and three small casks, hoping to find water. But the inlet water was salty, and wherever they dug, it was the same. They filled the casks anyway, but the water was so bitter and salty it was undrinkable. Two soldiers who drank it became sick. The inlet teemed with lizards, so we named the place Lizard Bay, as it’s marked on the sea charts.

Continuing my story, while our boats were ashore searching for water, a violent storm blew up from the northeast, nearly driving our ships onto the shore. Forced to lay to without enough ropes, our situation was dangerous as the wind blew hard from the north and northeast.

When our men on shore saw the trouble, they hurried back, dropping extra anchors and lines. We stayed like that for two days and nights. When the weather eased, we weighed anchor and steered for Cuba. Our pilot, Alaminos, consulted with the other pilots and decided the best plan was to get quickly into the latitude of Florida, which, according to their maps, was only about 210 miles away. They assured us that from there the sailing to Havana would be faster and safer. Things turned out as they predicted; Alaminos had been here before, traveling with Juan de Leon when he discovered Florida about ten or twelve years ago. After four days of sailing, we crossed that gulf and caught sight of Florida.

## CHAPTER VI. {.chapter}
*How twenty of us went ashore in Florida, led by pilot Alaminos, in search of water; how the natives attacked us; and what then befell us on our way to Havana.*

Once we reached the coast of Florida, twenty of our men, who had almost recovered from their wounds, decided to go ashore—myself included, together with pilot Alaminos. Each man took a mattock and a small cask, and we were well armed with crossbows and muskets. Our captain, badly wounded and weak from thirst, begged us in God's name to bring him fresh water, as he was nearly dying of thirst. As I said, our existing water was too salty to drink. We landed in a creek, and our pilot recognized the coast from his earlier journey with Ponce de Leon ten or twelve years before, when they had battled with the local people and lost many men.

We took precautions against a surprise attack by the natives. Two sentries were posted where the watercourse widened. We dug deep where we thought we'd find fresh water—the tide was low, and by God's mercy, we discovered sweet water there.

Filled with joy, we drank deeply and washed the wounds of the injured. This took about an hour. Just as we prepared to board again, happy with our success, one of our sentries rushed up, shouting, “To arms! To arms! Lots of Indians are coming both by land and sea.” The natives were nearly upon us as he spoke.

They carried massive bows with sharp arrows, lances, and spear-like swords, and their strong bodies were covered with wild animal skins. They rushed straight at us, loosing arrows and wounding six men in the first volley. I was shot in my right arm. We returned fire with accurate musket-shots and sword blows, quickly forcing them to back off from us at the wells and join their companions who were attacking our men at the boat by canoe. Our men there had already lost the boat, which the Indians began towing away. Four sailors were wounded, and our pilot, Alaminos, took a bad wound to the throat. Still, we attacked the enemy head-on, wading into the water, and soon drove them out of the boat with our swords. Twenty-two of the enemy were dead on the shoreline, and three more, only lightly wounded, were taken aboard but soon died.

After the skirmish, we asked the sentry what had become of his partner, Berrio. He explained his comrade had gone to fell a palm tree near the creek, and was likely killed when the Indians first appeared—he had heard him call out in Spanish just before sounding the alarm. It was strange—this man was the only unwounded survivor from the Potonchan battle. We searched for him, following tracks to a freshly cut palm tree surrounded by many footprints, but saw no blood, so figured the Indians carried the man off alive. For over an hour we called out for him, with no luck, and eventually returned to the boat with the water. The joy of our crew was as great as if we had given them new life; one soldier, so overwhelmingly thirsty, jumped from the ship into the boat, seized a cask, and drank so much water so quickly he swelled up and died on the spot.

After bringing the water aboard, we raised the boats and set sail for Havana. The weather was beautiful as we crossed the Martyr Islands and their sandbanks. The deepest part of the sea there was just four fathoms, and our main ship ran aground on rocks and started leaking badly. Everyone had to man the pumps, but couldn't keep up with the water, and we feared the vessel might sink at any moment. I won’t forget how the sailors from the Levant responded when told, “Come on, boys, help us pump, or we’ll all be lost! Our wounds and fatigue have weakened us.” They replied, “That's your problem. We get no pay, suffer hunger and thirst, and share your wounds on top of that.” We were forced to make them work by main force—alternately working the sails and the pumps until, by God's help, we reached the port of Carena, where now stands the town of Havana, then called Puerto de Carenas.

Once on land, we thanked God for our safe return, and unloaded the water. A Portuguese diver from another ship helped us get the water out of the leaking vessel. We immediately sent a report to the governor, Diego Velasquez, telling him about the countries we had seen—with large towns, stone houses, people dressed in cotton, wearing “maltates,” as well as the gold and regular maize fields. Our captain traveled overland to Santispiritus, where he had his Indian encomienda, but he died there ten days after arriving, from his wounds. The rest of the men scattered across the island, while three more died in Havana from their injuries.

Our ships went on to Santiago de Cuba, where the governor lived. Here were also brought the two Indians captured at Punta de Cotoche, as before—Melchorillo and Julianillo. When the box containing the crowns, golden ducks, fish, and idols was shown, there was much excitement, more than they deserved, and they became widely talked about across St. Domingo and Cuba, even reaching Spain. People there said no other newly discovered land was as rich, and nowhere else were houses found built of stone. Some said the earthen idols were relics of ancient times, and others boldly claimed these people descended from Jews expelled from Jerusalem by Titus and Vespasian, and shipwrecked on this coast. Since Peru was unknown, these countries were rightly seen as being of great importance. Velasquez questioned the two Indians on the existence of gold mines—they said yes, and when shown Cuban gold dust, claimed their country had much more. This was a lie, as there are no gold mines at Punta de Cotoche or in Yucatan. They also recognized cassava (yuca in Cuba) and called it “tale.” Combining the words for the plant and the field it’s grown in (tale), some Spaniards in the governor’s company decided the country should be called Yucatan, and so it stayed, although the natives call it something else.

On this “fine” voyage of discovery we lost all our possessions and returned to Cuba wounded and as poor as beggars, lucky only that not all of us shared the fate of those killed. Our captain, as mentioned, died soon after returning; all of us took a long time to recover from our wounds. Altogether, we lost seventy men—the only actual result of this voyage.

Governor Velasquez sent word to officials in Spain, claiming credit for the discoveries and the expense involved. The bishop of Burgos, Don Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca—who was also archbishop of Rosano and president of Indian affairs—wrote in the same way to the king in Flanders, greatly praising Diego Velasquez and not even mentioning those of us who really discovered the country.

Here I will leave off, and in the next chapter, tell what further hardships I and three of my comrades endured.

## CHAPTER VII. {.chapter}
*The hardships I endured until my arrival in Trinidad.*

As mentioned above, I and some other soldiers who had not fully recovered stayed behind in Havana. As soon as our wounds began to heal, three of us decided to travel together with a certain Pedro d’Avila, a resident of Havana, to Trinidad. He was making the coastal voyage in a canoe to trade a load of cotton shirts. As I said earlier, these canoes are hollowed from tree trunks like our bakers’ troughs, used here for coastal travel; we paid Pedro d’Avila ten doubloons for the trip.

While coasting along—sometimes rowing, sometimes sailing—after eleven days we reached an Indian village under Spanish rule, called Cannareon. That night, a terrible storm blew up and, despite the best efforts of Pedro d’Avila, some Havana Indians, and other good rowers, we could no longer keep afloat. In the end, we had to beach the canoe among steep rocks. The canoe shattered, Pedro d’Avila’s cargo was lost, and we made our way ashore, naked as the day we were born, bodies cut and bruised from climbing over the rocks—we had stripped to swim and try to save the canoe. Having only our lives, we continued along the rocky coast toward Trinidad, through a barren, rugged country, soon blistering and wounding our feet. Food was out of the question; we also suffered through gale-force winds and spray from the breaking sea. Though we tried to cover our bodies with leaves and herbs, we developed painful sores between our legs, bleeding badly. At last, unable to go further because of the wounds on our feet from the sharp stones, we managed—after much effort—to reach higher ground. With no swords, we used sharp stones to strip bark from trees and tied it as best we could to our feet with vine tendrils. In this way, after many hardships, we reached a sandy coastal area and, two days later, arrived at the Indian village Yeguarama, which then belonged to Bartholomeus de las Casas, a priest. I later knew him when he was a Dominican and became bishop of Chiapa. The Indians fed us, and the next day we reached another village, Chipiona, owned by Alonso de Avila and Sandoval, though not the famous captain Sandoval of New Spain. From there we finally reached Trinidad, where I knew Antonio de Medina, who gave me a set of local clothes; my companions were also outfitted by the townsfolk. Exhausted and poor, I departed for Santiago de Cuba, the seat of the governor Diego Velasquez. He was busy fitting out another squadron, and greeted me warmly when I came, as we were related. In conversation, he asked if my wounds were healed enough to make another trip to Yucatan. I laughed and asked who named the place—since the natives didn't call it that. “Melchior, whom you brought, calls it that,” he said. “Better to call it the land where half our men were killed and the rest wounded,” I answered. “Well,” he replied, “if you suffered hardship, it’s the same as everyone else who set out to discover new lands. But his majesty the king will see to it that you are honored and rewarded, for I will report everything faithfully. So, my friend, you may safely join this new squadron, and I’ll see you receive an honorable post.” I will now relate what happened next.

## CHAPTER VIII. {.chapter}
*How Diego Velasquez, governor of Cuba, sent out another armament to the country we had discovered.*

It was in the year 1518, after Diego Velasquez had received the favorable reports we gave about the newly discovered land called Yucatan, that he decided to send another expedition there. For this purpose, he chose four vessels, including the two in which we, the soldiers, had previously sailed with Cordoba to Yucatan—vessels we had purchased at our own expense. While this squadron was being prepared, several men were staying at Santiago de Cuba—Juan de Grijalva, Pedro de Alvarado, Francisco de Montejo, and Alonso de Avila—who held grants of Indians on these islands and had come to conduct business with the governor. As these were men of courage and initiative, Velasquez soon made arrangements for them to join the expedition, under the following terms: Juan de Grijalva, who was related to Velasquez, would serve as the captain-general and have overall command, and Pedro de Alvarado, Francisco de Montejo, and Alonso de Avila would command the other three ships. They were responsible for providing the vessels with supplies such as cassava bread and salted meat, while Diego Velasquez would organize the acquisition of the ships, supply the necessary crossbows, muskets, trade goods, and other less significant items. Our earlier report that the houses in the new country were made of stone and lime spread rumors of its wealth—and the Indian Melchorejo had implied through gestures that the land was rich in gold mines. All this inspired many of the island’s inhabitants and soldiers who had no Indian grants to seek out such a wealthy country, so in a short time we assembled 220 men. Additionally, everyone supplied themselves with extra provisions, weapons, and other items that might prove useful.

Thus, I set out once more for that country, under the same leaders with whom I would later return. The orders our commanders received from Diego Velasquez stated that they should barter for as much gold and silver as possible, and if they deemed it wise, establish colonies—but this was left to their own judgment. A man named Penolosa accompanied us as comptroller; Juan Diaz served as our priest. We also had the same three pilots from our previous voyage, and a fourth whose name I cannot recall. Each took charge of one vessel, but the chief pilot was Anton de Alaminos.

Before continuing, I should clarify that it is not out of disrespect that I mention only the names of our noble commanders without their titles or detailed descriptions of their coats of arms. I will simply call them Pedro de Alvarado, Francisco de Montejo, and Alonso de Avila until the time, later in this account, when the king conferred on them honors and authority.

Taking this opportunity, I note that Pedro de Alvarado was a bold cavalryman who, after the conquest of New Spain, became governor and chief justice of Guatemala, Honduras, and Chiapas, as well as comptroller of Santiago. Likewise, Francisco de Montejo, also known for his bravery, later became governor and chief justice of Yucatan. I will refer to them by their proper names until they are formally recognized with titles by his majesty.

Returning now to the narrative, our four vessels lay in the harbor of Matanza on the north coast, not far from the old Havana, which at the time did not yet stand where it does today. In this harbor, or nearby, most people stored their stocks of cassava bread and salted meat. Here, therefore, our ships were supplied with everything else they needed. This place was designated as the meeting point for all officers and men.

Before I proceed, I would like to explain how the harbor came to be named Matanza, as I am often asked about it, and though it may seem slightly out of place here, some explanation is due.

Some years ago, when Cuba had not yet been fully subdued, a ship sailing from the island of St. Domingo to the Lucayas was wrecked in a violent storm off the coast near the river and harbor of Matanza. Thirty Spaniards and two Spanish women were on board. To help them cross the river, many Indians gathered from Havana and surrounding districts. They appeared very friendly, offering to ferry the castaways in canoes and take them to their homes where they would provide food. The Spaniards accepted, but while in the middle of the river, the Indians overturned the canoes and drowned everyone except for three men and one of the women. The men were divided among various Indian settlements, but the woman—a very beautiful lady—was given to the most powerful cacique, the one who had planned the treachery. That is how the harbor got the name Matanza.

I personally knew the woman whose misfortune I have just described. After the complete conquest of Cuba, she left the cacique who then held her and married a citizen of Trinidad named Pedro Sanchez Farsan.

I also knew the three surviving Spaniards. One was Gonzalo Mexia, an elderly man from Xeres; another was Juan de Santisteban from Madrigal; and the third was Cascorro, a sailor and fisherman from Huelva. The cacique who held Cascorro gave him his daughter in marriage, and, according to Indian custom, pierced his ears and nose.

Now that I have detained the reader with these older stories, it is time to return to my main narrative.

On the 5th of April, 1518, after we had all gathered—officers, soldiers, and pilots informed of the signals and hour of departure—we heard mass with sincere devotion and weighed anchor. After ten days at sea, we passed the cape of Guaniguanico, called San Anton by sailors. Eight days later, we sighted the island of Cozumel; it happened to be the feast of the Holy Cross. Due to currents, our ships were carried further off course than we were on Cordoba's previous voyage, so this time we landed on the south coast of the island. There, we discovered a village and found a good anchorage nearby, free of rocks. Our commander-in-chief went ashore with a strong detachment of soldiers. The inhabitants, never having seen such a sight, fled as our ships approached, leaving the village empty. Eventually, we found two Indians hiding among the recently cut maize plants who hadn’t escaped in time. We brought them before our captain, who spoke with them using Julianillo and Melchorejo—Indians we had captured at Punta de Cotoche who understood the language. The distance between their homelands is only four hours’ sail, which explains why the people of Cozumel spoke the same language. Our captain treated them kindly, giving them each green glass beads and sending them to fetch the Calachoni (as the local caciques are called), but they did not return. While waiting for them, an Indian woman came toward us, attractive in appearance, and speaking the language of Jamaica. As I and many others among us understood her language—it being the same as in Cuba—we were surprised and asked how she had come here.

She explained that two years earlier, she had left Jamaica with ten Indians in a large canoe to fish among the islands nearby, but was driven ashore by currents; the inhabitants killed her husband and most of her companions and sacrificed them to their gods.

Seeing this, our commander thought the woman might serve as a negotiator. He sent her to persuade the inhabitants and cacique to return, giving her two days. We did not send Melchorejo or Julianillo, worried they would run away to their homeland.

The next day, the Indian woman returned, telling us that despite her efforts, she could not persuade the Indians or their wives to return with her. We called this place Santa Cruz, as we discovered it about four or five days before the feast of the Holy Cross. The area had plenty of honey, manioc, sweet potatoes, and large herds of musk swine, which have their navels on their backs. The island has three poor villages, the one we visited being the largest; the other two, both smaller, stood on a promontory about six miles apart. Seeing no point in tarrying, our commander Grijalva ordered us to re-embark. The Jamaican woman came with us, and we continued our voyage.

## CHAPTER IX. {.chapter}
*How we landed at Champoton.*

From here, we sailed the same course as under Cordoba, and eight days later reached the coast of Champoton, where the Indians had treated us so harshly, as recounted earlier. The sea being very shallow here, we anchored about three miles from shore and landed in all our boats with half our men, as near the village as possible. The villagers and other Indians from the area gathered just as they had before, when they killed fifty-six of our men and wounded all the rest. Their attitude and proud bearing showed clearly that they still remembered their victory. They were well armed in their custom: bows, lances, shields, and broadswords wielded with both hands. They also carried slings, wore cotton armor, and played drums and trumpets. Most had faces painted black and white. They lined the shore ready to attack as soon as we landed. Having learned from our previous loss, this time we brought falconets and armed ourselves well with crossbows and matchlocks.

As soon as we were close enough, they unleashed a volley of arrows and lances, wounding half our men quickly. But as soon as we got ashore, we retaliated with our matchlocks and swords. Undeterred, they each targeted a man with their arrows; fortunately, we had put on cotton armor. The fight continued until another one of our boats arrived, upon which we drove the enemy back to the wells near the village. In the clash, we lost Juan de Quitera and several other soldiers. Our commander, Juan de Grijalva, received three arrow wounds and lost two teeth, and more than sixty of our men were wounded. When the enemy fled, we entered the village, treated our wounds, and buried the dead. No one was left in the village, and even those who had fled to the wells stayed only long enough to carry off their belongings. We captured three prisoners, one a person of rank. Our commander released them, asking them to summon the district’s cacique, and gave them green glass beads and little bells to distribute among the people to win their goodwill. We treated the prisoners kindly and gave them glass corals to build trust. They left, but never returned; we suspected Julianillo and Melchorejo might have misrepresented us. We spent four days in this place, which I will never forget because of the huge locusts we saw there. The battlefield was stony, and while the fighting lasted, these insects kept flying in our faces alongside a shower of arrows. At first, we mistook the locusts for arrows—then, having caught our mistake, we erred another way and mistook arrows for locusts, failing to properly defend ourselves and ending up badly wounded. In this way we confused arrows and locusts to our detriment, putting ourselves in a troublesome spot.

## CHAPTER X. {.chapter}
*We continued our course and ran into Terminos bay, as we named it.*

As we continued our voyage, we came across a coastal opening we thought was the mouth of a large river. It turned out not to be a river but an excellent harbor, stretching far inland and so wide it seemed like a sea. Our pilot, Anton de Alaminos, claimed this was an island with two cape points reaching near the mainland. We called this place Boca de Terminos, the name still found on sea charts. Our commander and the other officers went ashore with most of our men, myself included. We remained there three days to explore the opening and sail through every part. We found it was not an island but a deep bay formed by the continent, offering a safe and spacious harbor. Here, we also found temples built of stone and lime, full of idols of wood or clay, along with other figures—some as women, some as serpents, and also the horns of different wild animals. Judging by this, we assumed an Indian settlement was nearby and thought the place ideal for founding a colony. However, we were wrong; the area was entirely uninhabited. The temples likely belonged to merchants and hunters who stopped in the harbor and made sacrifices there. There were plenty of deer and rabbits; with a single greyhound, we killed ten deer and many rabbits. Our dog became so fond of the place it ran away while we were getting ready to leave and was not seen again until we returned to the spot with Cortes, by which time it appeared healthy, fat, and sleek.

After thoroughly exploring and sounding the harbor at Terminos, we followed the coast to the Tabasco River, which, after its discoverer, is now called the Grijalva River.

## CHAPTER XI. {.chapter}
*How we came into the Tabasco river, which we termed the Grijalva, and what happened to us there.*

As we sailed along the mainland coast by day (at night we lay to, because of the shoals and rocks), on the third morning we saw the wide mouth of a river. Approaching as closely as possible, we hoped to find a good harbor. Getting nearer, we saw that waves broke heavily over the shallows, so we lowered our boats to sound the depth and realized our two largest ships could not enter. We decided those ships would anchor offshore, while the two smaller vessels, drawing less water, and all our well-manned boats would move up the river. On the shore, we saw many Indians in canoes, armed with bows and arrows and equipped like those at Champoton. Judging from their numbers, we thought a village must be near; along the riverbanks, we saw baskets set as fish traps, from two of which we took the fish and put them into a boat behind our main ship.

The river had previously been named after the local cacique, Tabasco; but since we now discovered it, we named it the Grijalva River for our commander-in-chief. The name appears on sea charts.

We were perhaps two miles from the village when we heard the noise of tree-cutting: the Indians were building barricades and preparing for war, being well warned of our actions at Potonchan. On learning this, we disembarked our men on a promontory with palm trees about two miles from the village. Seeing this, around fifty canoes, full of fully armed Indians, came toward us, while many more canoes, similarly manned, stayed further out, not daring to approach as closely.

As they seemed ready to fight, we were about to fire our guns and give a musket volley, but, by God’s mercy, thought it wiser first to see if peace could be established. So Julianillo and Melchorejo, natives of Punta de Cotoche who spoke the language, told the chiefs they had nothing to fear: we wanted to speak with them and share news that would please them; they should approach us, and we would gladly offer some of what we had brought.

On this invitation, four canoes approached, carrying about thirty Indians. We showed them blue glass bead necklaces, small mirrors, and imitation green corals. These delighted them, as they mistook them for chalchihuitls, highly prized in their land.

Our captain, through our interpreters, explained that we came from far away and served a great emperor, Don Carlos, lord over many sovereigns and caciques among his subjects. They too should acknowledge him as their sovereign, for then things would go well for them; he also asked them to trade us fowl for our glass beads.

Two of the Indians, the chief and a papa—a kind of priest who performs ceremonies before their idols—replied: “We will bring the food you request and begin trade with you. As for the rest, we already have a ruler, and are surprised you wish to impose a new master on us when you have just arrived and know nothing about us. You should think twice before starting a war here as you did at Potonchan. Know that all the warriors have been called up—two armies of 8,000 men each are ready. Although we heard you recently wounded and killed 200 men, we are far stronger than our neighbors; that is why we first want to know your intent. We will tell the caciques of our various districts, who are united for peace or war, about your statement.”

This said, they embraced our commander as a token of peace. He gave them bead necklaces and encouraged them to return quickly with a response, warning that otherwise we would enter their town by force, though we had no intention of harm.

The delegates spoke with the caciques and papas—both having voices in council—and agreed to accept our offer of peace. They arranged for provisions to be brought to us and for each neighboring district to contribute its share towards a gift of gold to ensure our goodwill and avoid a repeat of Potonchan. As I later observed, it was custom among these people to exchange presents when negotiating peace.

All of this happened on the palm-covered promontory. About thirty Indians soon came with roasted fish, fowl, fruit, and corn bread. They also brought pans with hot coals, on which they burned incense and perfumed us all. After this, they laid mats and a cotton cloth on the ground, on which they placed small gold trinkets shaped like ducks and lizards, and three necklaces made of gold beads. The gold was of low quality, worth less than 200 pesos. They added a few mantles and cotton waistcoats like those they wore, asking us to accept them in good spirit, adding that they had no more gold to give—but that further toward the setting sun was a land where gold was abundant. They repeatedly mentioned the words Culba, Culba, and Mexico, Mexico, though we didn’t understand their meaning. Although the gifts were modest, we were pleased because we now knew the country contained gold. With great ceremony, they handed over the presents and told us we could continue our voyage. Our captain thanked them and gave each of them some green beads. We now decided to re-embark, as the ships were at great risk from the north wind, which blew contrary to our position, and we needed to seek the land that, according to the Indians' assurances, was rich in gold.

## CHAPTER XII. {.chapter}
*We come in sight of the town of Aguajaluco, and name it La Rambla.*

After re-embarking, we continued our journey along the coast and, on the second day, spotted a town near the seashore called Aguajaluco. We could see many Indians rushing about, carrying enormous shields made from large tortoise shells, which shimmered so brilliantly in the sunlight that some of our men thought they were made of a lower quality gold. The natives seemed to be pacing the shore in great alarm, which led us to call the village La Rambla—a name it still holds on sea charts.

Continuing along the coast, we reached a bay into which the Tonalá River flows; we would later enter this river on a subsequent voyage. We named it Sant Antonio, which is still its name on maps. Next, we passed the mouth of the large Guacasualco River and would have gladly entered its bay, but contrary winds prevented us. We then spotted the great Snow Mountains—Sierras Nevadas—perpetually snowcapped. There were other mountains nearby, closer to the coast, which we named *Holy Martin* after a soldier from Havana named San Martino, who first saw them. One of the commanders, Pedro de Alvarado, whose ship was the fastest, sailed far ahead and entered a river the locals called Papalohuna; we renamed it Alvarado after its discoverer. Some Indian fishermen from the village of Tlacotalpa gave him fish, something we witnessed from a considerable distance. Two more of our ships followed Alvarado, so we had to wait for their return. This detour, made without the general’s permission, caused some tension. Grijalva forbade Alvarado to advance ahead of the squadron in the future, fearing he might run into danger before we could help. From then on, the four ships stayed close together. Soon after, we reached another river, which we called Bandera’s Stream (Flag Stream) because Indians lined the banks with small white flags on their lances. They shouted to us and invited us ashore, but I will share what further happened here in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER XIII. {.chapter}
*How we arrive at Bandera’s Stream and acquire 1500 pesos.*

By this time, the existence of the great city of Mexico must have been known across most Spanish provinces and much of Christendom: how, like Venice, it was built on water, and about its powerful monarch who ruled many provinces—lands more than four times the size of Spain. This monarch’s name was Motecusuma. His authority was so immense that he longed to extend it even to unreachable places, and sought to know things that were beyond his grasp. He had already heard of our first visit under Cordoba and of our battles at Cotoche and Champoton, and knew about our second engagement at the latter place. It was also reported to him that we were but a handful of men compared to the vast local populations, and finally, he was told that we eagerly traded our goods for gold. All this information reached him over time via painted images or signs, drawn—as is their custom—on a thick type of cloth made from the maguey, closely resembling our linen. He was also informed that we continued our progress along the coast, so he ordered the governors of each district to exchange their gold for our glass beads at every landing site, especially for the green ones, which closely resembled their prized chalchihuis stones. He also instructed them to learn about our intentions. His curiosity on this last point was due to an ancient tradition in the land, which foretold a people coming from the east who would one day rule their country.

Whatever his reasons, it is certain that the powerful Motecusuma ordered sentinels to be stationed along the riverbanks mentioned earlier. Each sentinel had a small flag on their lance and loudly called out, inviting us ashore. As we observed this novel scene from our vessels, our commanding officers decided to investigate further. We lowered two boats, manned with twenty well-armed soldiers equipped with crossbows and muskets. Francisco de Montejo commanded this group; I was among them. Our orders were to send immediate word to the commander-in-chief if anything hostile occurred, and generally to report our observations. By God’s favor, the weather was calm—a rare event on these coasts. We landed safely and were met by three caziques, one being a governor under Motecusuma, attended by many Indians with fowls, maize bread, pineapples, sapotes, and other provisions. They spread mats in the shade for us to sit on, and all communication was by signs, as Julianillo did not understand their language. Next, they brought clay pans filled with glowing embers and sprinkled them with resin similar in scent to our incense, perfuming us.

Francisco de Montejo reported everything to our commander-in-chief, who soon had the squadron brought into the bay, landing with all our men.

When the caziques and governor saw our general—whom they understood to be our chief officer—on shore, they showed him utmost respect in their fashion and perfumed him intensely. We thanked them and expressed friendship, giving each of them white and green glass beads, and asked them to bring gold in exchange for our goods. Motecusuma’s governor strongly urged the locals to comply, resulting in nearby inhabitants bringing all their gold trinkets to begin trade. Over our six-day stay, we obtained more than 1500 pesos’ worth of gold items, though of lower quality. Historians Francisco Lopez de Gomara and Gonzalo Hernandez de Oviedo also note this, but they mistakenly claim it happened on the Tabasco or Grijalva River; in fact, there is no gold in the provinces by the Grijalva River, nor many gold ornaments. I will not detain my reader with their tales, but simply state that we claimed this country for his imperial majesty the Emperor, in the name of Diego Velasquez, the governor of Cuba. Our general told the Indians he wanted to leave and gave them Spanish shirts. We took one of their men with us—he later learned our language and became Christian, adopting the name Francisco. I met him again afterwards at Santa Fé, where he settled after the conquest of Mexico. When the locals brought no more gold and, after six days, as our anchorage became risky due to contrary winds, our commander ordered us to set sail again. Continuing, we came to an island covered in white sand, about nine miles offshore, which we named Isla Blanca, as on sea charts. Not far off was another island, five miles from the mainland, where we found a good place to land.

Our general ordered the boats out and landed with most of us to explore. We found two houses, strongly built of stone and lime, both with steps and crowned by altars, on which stood abominable idols. The previous evening, five Indians had been sacrificed to these gods; their mutilated bodies remained, stained everything with blood. We were horrified and called it Isla de Sacrificios. Leaving there, we landed nearby on the continent and built huts on the downs with sails and tree branches. Soon, Indians appeared with small bits of gold to barter as at Bandera stream, following Motecusuma’s command, as we later learned. The people approached us fearfully, and what they brought was only a trifle. Our captain soon moved the fleet. Our next landing was by another island, about two miles from shore, now considered the country’s best harbor. I’ll describe what befell us there in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER XIV. {.chapter}
*How we came to the harbor of San Juan de Culua.*

Landing on a sandy stretch of coast, we were tormented by swarms of mosquitoes and had to build huts on the large dunes and even in the treetops for relief. Then, using our boats, we explored the harbor and found it quite good for anchoring—especially protected from the north wind by an island. Our general visited the island with thirty armed men. There, we found a temple with the hideously carved god Tetzcatlipuca, tended by four Indians in long black cloaks and with flowing hair, much like our own canons or Dominicans. These were priests, who had just sacrificed two boys, ripping open their bodies and offering their hearts to the idol. They wanted to perfume us as they did their gods, but though it smelled like incense, we refused, appalled and sickened by the scene. Our captain questioned Francisco, the Indian we had brought from Bandera stream, about the matter. Since we still had no interpreter, the captain used signs. Francisco replied that this sacrifice had been ordered by the people of Culua, but as he struggled with the word, he kept saying *Olua, Olua*. Because our commander Juan was present and it was the feast of St. John, we named the island San Juan de Ulua. This harbor later became a hub, frequently visited, and all cargo for Mexico and New Spain has been shipped or unloaded here. While encamped, many locals brought us gold trinkets for trade, but so little and of such low quality that it hardly interested us. Nevertheless, we stayed seven days—constantly plagued by mosquitoes making our stay nearly unbearable. Having spent so long at sea, realizing this was indeed a continent with major towns—not an island—and with our cassava bread spoiled and our numbers too few to establish a settlement (ten dead from wounds, four more dangerously ill), we decided to send Diego Velasquez a report and request for reinforcements. Grijalva even considered founding a colony with what forces we had. Our captain acted with great courage, whatever the historian Gomara may claim. Pedro de Alvarado was sent on this mission to Cuba aboard the leaky San Sebastian, to be refitted and bring back supplies. He took all our traded gold, the cotton goods the Indians had given us, and our sick. Our main officers each wrote Diego Velasquez their own account of our journey. Now, leaving Pedro de Alvarado to his fate on his trip to Cuba, I’ll relate what happened to the ship Velasquez sent out after us.

## CHAPTER XV. {.chapter}
*Diego Velasquez sends out a small vessel in search of us.*

From the moment Juan de Grijalva left Cuba, Diego Velasquez was anxious, constantly fearing disaster for us. In his impatience, he finally sent out a small ship with seven men to look for us. The commander was Christobal de Oli, a bold and energetic man. He was instructed to follow Cordoba’s previous route until he found us. However, while anchored near the coast, de Oli encountered a violent storm. Forced to cut the cables to save his vessel from wrecking, he had no anchor left upon his return to Santiago de Cuba and could offer the governor no news of us.

Velasquez was more worried than ever. When Pedro de Alvarado arrived with the gold and news of our exploits, his anxiety turned to joy. He was overwhelmed when he saw the worked gold items, which—with their shapes and unfamiliar style—seemed even more valuable than they truly were. His Majesty’s officials, who were to take a fifth share, were equally amazed by the riches. Alvarado, always eager to please, described how Velasquez embraced him and celebrated with festivities and tournaments for eight days straight. If tales of these lands’ riches had spread before, the arrival of our gold quickly caused those rumors to reach all the islands and eventually all of Spain.

I will revisit this subject later. For now, I leave Velasquez to his celebrations and return to our vessels at San Juan de Ulua.

## CHAPTER XVI. {.chapter}
*What happened as we navigated by the Tusta and Tuspa mountains.*

After Pedro de Alvarado sailed for Cuba, our general and the officers consulted with the pilots and decided to push further along the coast, exploring as much as possible. As we sailed, we first saw the Tusta mountains and, two days later, the higher Tuspa mountains—both named for towns at their base. We also saw many other towns, six to nine miles inland in what is now Panuco province. Eventually, we reached a large river we named Canoe River and anchored at its mouth.

While anchored and growing a bit less vigilant, sixteen large canoes full of fully armed Indians (bows, arrows, lances) came down the river and attacked our smallest ship, commanded by Alonso de Avila, which was nearest the shore. They showered us with arrows, wounding two soldiers, and tried to seize the ship, even cutting one cable. We rushed to Alonso’s aid; he had bravely resisted and capsized three of their canoes. Using our crossbows and muskets, we wounded more than a third of our attackers, who retreated, demoralized. We weighed anchor and sailed on to a large cape, where strong currents made doubling it nearly impossible. Chief pilot Alaminos advised against continuing blindly, offering many compelling reasons. After considering his advice, we all agreed to return to Cuba.

Other reasons supported this decision: the approach of winter, dwindling food supplies, and the poor state of one leaking ship. There were also disagreements among our commanders: Grijalva insisted on trying to found a colony, but Montejo and Alonso de Avila argued that it would be pointless given the dense populations of warriors, and the men in general had grown weary of the voyage. We turned about, raised all sail, and soon arrived—helped by strong currents—at the mouth of the Guacasualco River. Unable to stay due to foul weather, we pressed along until we reached the mouth of the Tonala River, our Sant Antonio. We ascended the river and repaired the leaky ship, which had repeatedly hit rocks.

While working, many Indians came from the port of Tonala (about four miles away), bringing maize bread, fish, and fruit—gladly shared. Our commander replied with gifts of white and green glass beads, hinting by signs that they should exchange their gold for our goods. They soon did so, but their gold was low quality, and we returned imitation coral. Word spread to Guacasualco and nearby areas that we traded goods, so others came with their golden ornaments, eager for green beads. Each Indian also carried a highly polished copper axe with a carved handle—made as much for show as for battle. At first, we mistook these axes for poor-quality gold, eagerly collecting more than 600 in two days and were as pleased with our new “treasure” as the Indians were with their beads. One sailor secretly bought seven axes and was pleased with his luck, but was discovered and compelled by the commander-in-chief to hand them over—still convinced they were gold, he gave them reluctantly.

This reminds me of Bartolome Prado, who entered a temple (a cue,) on a high mound, where he found several idols, some copal (the Indians’ incense), and flint knives for cutting offerings. He also found two small wooden boxes with gold head- and neck-ornaments, small idols, and items similar to our pearls. He turned in the idols, but secretly kept the gold, though he was observed and reported. We spoke in his favor, as he was good-hearted, and our commander allowed him to keep it after the emperor’s fifth was deducted; he still kept nearly eighty pesos. 

I should mention that I planted eight orange seeds from Cuba near one of the temples’ steps as thanks for a restful sleep atop the mound, safe from mosquitoes. The seeds sprouted quickly, and when grown into small plants, were probably tended and protected by the priests. These were likely the first orange seeds planted in New Spain. After Mexico’s conquest and the friendly subjugation of Guacasualco’s tribes, this well-situated province was highly valued for its mines and harbor as well as its fine pastures for sheep. Many illustrious conquistadors of Mexico, myself included, settled here, where I found and transplanted my orange trees, which flourished greatly.

Some may say such stories are out of place, but I’ll say no more on that. I simply report that the locals were very pleased with us and warmly embraced us when we left. We sailed for Cuba and arrived in forty days, with weather sometimes fair, sometimes rough. We were well received by governor Diego Velasquez, who was delighted by the new gold we brought. In all, it was worth 4,000 pesos; together with the 16,000 Alvarado had brought, the total was 20,000 pesos. Some say more, some less, but it is certain the royal officials only took the fifth of the last-named sum. When they tried to take a fifth from the supposed gold axes but found them to be high-quality copper, it drew laughter at our bartering skills. Diego Velasquez was content, though more displeased with his kinsman Grijalva—wrongly so, as this was a result of slander from Alonso de Avila, a man of ill nature who, with Montejo, tried to undermine Grijalva so a new expedition could be mounted with a different leader.

## CHAPTER XVII. {.chapter}
*Diego Velasquez sends an official to Spain.*

Readers might wonder if what I write here fits the story, but you’ll soon see it is necessary before introducing Captain Hernando Cortes. You should also remember that sometimes several things happen at once, and the historian has no choice but to tell them one at a time, starting with the closest in sequence.

After Pedro de Alvarado arrived with the gold from our newly discovered lands, Diego Velasquez worried that someone at court—possibly with private intelligence—might preempt him in sending the first official report to the Emperor, robbing him of credit. So he sent one of his chaplains, Benito Martinez, an adept man, to Spain, carrying letters and some treasures to Don Juan Rodriguez Fonseca, bishop of Burgos and archbishop of Rosano. He also wrote to the licentiate Louis Zapata and secretary Lope Conchillos, both of whom managed Indian affairs under the archbishop.

Velasquez was very devoted to these gentlemen, having given them valuable villages in Cuba whose inhabitants worked their gold mines. But he especially favored the archbishop, giving little thought to the Emperor, who was then in Flanders.

He also sent much of the gold Alvarado had brought to his patrons, for all decisions in the imperial council of the Indies depended on them. Through this chaplain, Velasquez sought unlimited permission to outfit expeditions or found colonies wherever he wished, including territories yet to be discovered. In his letters to Spain, he spoke of the many thousands of gold pesos he had already spent, presenting things so favorably that his chaplain’s mission exceeded expectations, even securing for him the additional title of Adelantado of Cuba. However, this title did not arrive before the expedition under Cortes had departed. I’ll say no more about these matters for now, but wish to briefly address Francisco Lopez de Gomara’s History of the Conquest of New Spain and Mexico. I came across his book while writing my own, and I saw immediately I would have to contradict him in many places. My intent is to give an honest narrative and follow events in proper order—which will differ greatly from his, given how often his account is at odds with the truth.

## CHAPTER XVIII. {.chapter}
*On Some Errors in the Work of Francisco Lopez de Gomara.*

While I was busily engaged in writing this narrative, I came across Gomara's eloquent *History of the Conquest of Mexico and New Spain*. When I saw the elegance of his style and compared it to my own roughness, I was so ashamed at the thought of my work being read by men of distinction that I put down my pen. Discouraged, I decided to read through his history again. It was only then that I realized how mistaken Gomara was about the events that actually took place in New Spain. He is just as inaccurate whenever he writes about the size of the towns and the numbers of inhabitants; for instance, he does not hesitate to write 8,000 instead of eight whenever it serves his purposes. He also mentions the large buildings we supposedly started, when in reality, we were only 400 strong when we first went out to war, and we had our hands full just defending ourselves and keeping victory from going to our enemies. Though the Indians may have been timid, we certainly did not commit the mass slaughters or barbarities that Gomara attributes to us. On the contrary, our situation was so dire that I swear on oath we prayed daily to God and the Holy Virgin for our preservation.

Alaric was certainly a courageous king, and Attila a warrior whose excessive pride would let nothing stand in his way; yet they never slaughtered as many people on the Catalonian plains as we are made to do in Gomara’s book!

Likewise, Gomara exaggerates how many towns and temples we supposedly burned or destroyed—especially the Indian temples, known as *cues* by the locals. This kind of thing would certainly appeal to his readers, but he never seemed to consider that the conquistadores themselves, and others better informed, would see through his mistakes and falsehoods. Even in his other works, whenever he discusses New Spain, he quickly makes further blunders. In one place, he gives undeserved praise to some commanders, only to diminish others unfairly. In another, he assigns command in battles to men who weren’t even present during the conquest: for example, he claims Pedro d’Irico commanded at the battle near the later-named town of Almeria, when it was in fact Juan de Escalante who led there and was killed with seven of his men. He also claims Juan Velasquez de Leon founded the colony of Guacasualco, though it was Gonzalo de Sandoval of Avila who did so. His claim that Cortes ordered the Indian chief Quezal Popoca, one of Motecusuma’s captains, to be burnt along with the village where he was hiding, is equally untrue. Similar unreliability is found in his account of our entrance into the town and fortress of Anga Panga, where events happened the exact opposite of his telling. In his version of our actions on the downs, after we had named Cortes captain-general and chief justice, he has clearly been misled by false information and completely misrepresents the taking of the town of Chamula, in the province of Chiapa. He makes an even greater error when he says Cortes secretly ordered the destruction of the eleven vessels that brought us to New Spain—when everyone knows the ships were run aground openly, by unanimous decision and in front of us all, so the sailors could arm themselves and join us on our march.

Similarly, he diminishes the achievements of Juan de Grijalva, though he proved himself to be an able officer. He also ignores Hernandez de Cordoba, the first to discover Yucatan, while claiming Francisco de Garay accompanied us on the earlier Grijalva expedition, though he only visited New Spain on this last voyage. In his account of Narvaez's arrival and our victory over him, Gomara is more faithful and well informed, but in describing the battles with the Tlascallans up to the time we made peace, he again strays from the truth. As for the battle we fought in the city of Mexico itself—where we were beaten back and lost over 860 men, many of whom were sacrificed to the idols—he greatly minimizes the significance of the event. Out of 1,300 troops who entered the town to relieve Pedro de Alvarado, only 440 survived, all wounded, yet Gomara speaks of this tragedy as if it were nothing. He likewise glosses over our later conquest of the city of Mexico, saying little about the deed or our casualties, as if it were just a festive parade. There’s no need to go through each point one by one—it’s a waste of ink and paper! I only wish that Gomara, with such a beautiful style, would present the truth in his writing, for it deserves to be seen. But I have said enough about Gomara; I have shown, to his readers’ regret, how far he has strayed from the facts. Now I’ll return to my own history, striving to follow the advice of wise men: that honesty and truth are the true ornaments of history. Indeed, my rough style would be unbearable without truth, and so I have chosen to trust in it and continue my narrative as I began, so it might be published and show the world the conquest of New Spain as it really happened. In doing so, his imperial majesty will also learn of the great services we, the true conquistadores, have done for the crown; how few we were when we arrived under our highly favored and faithful captain, Hernando Cortes; what dangers we faced; and, finally, how we conquered this kingdom, now a major part of the New World, for which our most Christian king and master has often ordered us to be rewarded. Still, I won’t say more on this, though much more could be said. As I take up my pen again, I will, like a cautious pilot who throws out the lead line in shallow waters, seek the truth where Gomara strays from it. I won’t bore my readers with minute details, but always keep the bigger picture in mind, so the effort of picking up scraps does not outweigh the worth of the full harvest. If future historians expand my account and bestow due praise on Cortes, our commander, and the conquistadores in this great and holy mission, at least I will have testified to the truth. This isn’t legend, dream, or speculation; everything I recount happened recently, and all New Spain can confirm and judge the accuracy of those who have written on this matter. I will tell what I myself witnessed and know to be true, ignoring the contradictory tales of those who write only from hearsay, for truth is sacred. I’ll say no more on this, though I could say much; only that there is reason to think Gomara was misled by false information when writing his history. In his work, everything turns to the glory and honor of Cortes, while the brave officers and soldiers go unmentioned—a partiality evident in his dedication of the work to the present Marquis del Valle, Cortes’s son, and not to the king. But these errors are not unique to Francisco Lopez de Gomara; they have led many other writers who followed him into similar mistakes, like Dr. Illescas and Paulo Jovio, who copied Gomara exactly, word for word. For all their mistakes, they have Gomara to thank.

## CHAPTER XIX. {.chapter}
*How Another Armament Was Fitted Out for a Voyage to Newly Discovered Lands. The Command Was Given to Hernando Cortes, Later Marquis of the Valley of Oaxaca; and of the Secret Plots Against Him.*

Immediately after Juan de Grijalva returned from our last voyage of discovery in 1518, Diego Velasquez ordered the outfitting of a larger armament than the previous one. He had ten ships in the harbor at Santiago de Cuba, including the four vessels in which we had just returned with Grijalva, which were quickly refitted and careened. The other six were collected from different ports on the island. The ships were stocked with enough provisions—cassava bread, tobacco, and smoked bacon—to reach the Havannah, where they would be fully equipped, since at that time neither beef nor mutton was available in Cuba. Meanwhile, Velasquez could not decide whom to trust with command. Some cavaliers mentioned Vasco Porcallo, a renowned captain related to the Earl of Feria, who, it was said, would soon arrive to lead. However, Velasquez was wary of his daring nature and feared that, once in command, Porcallo would declare independence. Others suggested Augustin Bermudez, Antonio Velasquez Borrego, and Bernardino Velasquez, all relatives of Velasquez. But we soldiers wanted none but Juan de Grijalva, who was not only a brave officer but also a man of unimpeachable character and capable of command. While such rumors circulated, the matter was secretly arranged by two close associates of Diego Velasquez—Andreas de Duero, the governor's secretary, and Almador de Lares, the royal treasurer—with Hernando Cortes. Cortes, a gentleman of rank, was from Medellin, son of Martin Cortes de Monroy and Catalina Pizarro Altamirano, both from old noble families of Estremadura, though then in modest circumstances. Cortes held an Indian encomienda in Cuba and had recently married Doña Catalina Suarez Pacheco, daughter of the late Diego Suarez Pacheco of Avila and Maria de Mercaida of Biscay, and sister to Juan Suarez Pacheco, who, after the conquest of New Spain, settled in Mexico and received an encomienda. This marriage proved costly for Cortes and even led to his imprisonment. Diego Velasquez approved of Cortes's wife's family, who had initially opposed the match; but I will leave further details to others and focus on the main subject here, which is that Velasquez’s confidants did all they could to secure Cortes the appointment of commander-in-chief, while Cortes promised to share equally with them all profits from gold, silver, and jewels that might be gained on this expedition—since Velasquez’s true aim for this armament was not settlement, but bartering with the natives. Duero and the treasurer used all their persuasion on the governor, presenting Cortes in the best possible light, extolling his courage, and declaring him the best person he could entrust with command. They assured him he could count on Cortes, especially since Velasquez himself had been a witness at his marriage and given the bride away, creating a spiritual tie between them. Their efforts succeeded, and Velasquez granted Cortes the captain-generalcy of the expedition. On this occasion, Secretary Duero wasted no time in drawing up the commission using the best ink, writing it to Cortes’s satisfaction and finishing it quickly. When word got out, some approved of the choice, others did not.

The next Sunday, as Velasquez walked to church with the town’s leading men, as befitted the governor, he did Cortes the honor of placing him at his right side. On the way, they met a jester nicknamed the Fool Servantes, who danced about in front of Velasquez, doing all sorts of ridiculous tricks. “Well now, friend Diego,” the jester began, “what sort of captain-general have you picked? That man from Medellin and Estremadura! A captain who’s looking to make his fortune for real this time. I’m afraid he’s going to make off with your whole fleet; just look at his face, he’s a dangerous fellow when he sets his mind to something.” As he rambled on and got more pointed in his remarks, Andreas de Duero, walking beside Cortes, gave him a good slap on the head and yelled, “Get out, drunkard! These spiteful jokes aren’t your own idea.” The jester ignored him, continuing: “Long live my friend Diego and the bold Captain Cortes! By heaven, Diego, I’ll have to go with Cortes myself so you don't regret your decision!” Everyone assumed that Velasquez’s relative had paid the jester to say these things out of spite. Yet, everything the fool said ended up coming true—fools often tell the truth. Still, Hernando Cortes’s appointment was pleasing to God, a blessing to our holy faith, and of the highest importance to his majesty, as events will make clear.

## CHAPTER XX. {.chapter}
*Of the Plans and Preparations of Hernando Cortes After Becoming Captain.*

After being appointed captain, Hernando Cortes immediately began gathering all sorts of weapons and supplies: matchlocks, crossbows, powder, and the like. He also secured a large stock of goods for barter and other necessities for the expedition. He became very attentive to his appearance, more so than usual—he wore feathers in his cap fastened with a gold medal, giving him a stately look. Despite this, he was hard-pressed for money to buy what he needed and was deep in debt: though his encomienda and gold mines were lucrative, he needed all the income to support his household and his young wife’s attire. He was well-liked, with a pleasant face and agreeable conversation, and had twice served as Alcalde of Santiago de Boroco, a high honor locally. When his merchant friends, Jaime Tria and Pedro de Xeres, heard of his appointment, they lent him 4,000 gold pesos and other merchandise, secured by his encomienda’s income. With this, he bought a ceremonial robe with golden trim, colors representing the king, and banners bearing royal arms and a cross, under which was written in Latin: “Brothers, let us in true faith follow the cross, and the victory is ours!” He then announced by drum and trumpet, in the name of the king and Governor Diego Velasquez, that all who volunteered for the conquest and colonization of the newly discovered lands would receive shares of any gold, silver, or jewels won. Anyone settling there would also receive an Indian encomienda, distributed by Diego Velasquez on the king’s behalf.

Although this proclamation came before the chaplain Benito Martinez returned from Spain with final authority and other powers for Velasquez, it stirred excitement among the islanders. Cortes also wrote to his friends, inviting them to join the venture. Many sold everything they owned to buy arms and a horse; others bought up stores of cassava bread and salted bacon to provision the ships and equip themselves as best they could. Our numbers reached 300 soldiers by the time we left Santiago de Cuba, including some of Velasquez’s top staff, such as his steward Diego de Ordas—sent, no doubt, to ensure Cortes did nothing against Velasquez’s interests. Also joining were Francisco de Morla, Escobar, Herredia, Juan Ruano, Pedro Escudero, and Martin Ramos de Pares of Biscay, and many other friends and acquaintances of Velasquez. I am naming these warriors as they come to mind, not to prefer one above the rest. I intend to list everyone later in its proper place.

While Cortes worked furiously to ready the vessels, the envy and hostility of Velasquez’s relatives, who felt insulted that the command went to Cortes, was ever-present. Velasquez had only recently shown his dislike for Cortes over his marriage, even persecuting him for it; so his relatives became even more determined to bring him down in the governor’s eyes, hoping to strip him of command. Cortes, well aware of these schemes, made sure always to stay close to Velasquez, taking every opportunity to show his loyalty and to speak only of the glory and great riches this venture would soon bring Velasquez. Andreas de Duero also urged Cortes to hurry his departure, since Velasquez’s relatives were already working to change his mind about Cortes. So Cortes instructed his wife to send provisions and other gifts generally given by women at such times. He informed the shipmasters and pilots of the departure date and time and commanded all men to be on board by a set day.

With everything ready for departure, and all the men on board, Cortes went to say farewell to the governor, accompanied by his closest friends and companions, Andreas de Duero, the royal treasurer Almador de Lares, and leading citizens of the town. Velasquez and Cortes professed everlasting friendship, embracing several times before parting.

The next morning, we attended mass, then marched to the ships with the governor and many noblemen providing an honorable escort.

The weather was very fine, and after a few days’ sailing, we safely reached the harbor of Trinidad and landed.

From what has been said and as will be seen in the next chapter, the reader can understand the many difficulties Cortes faced; and when my account is compared with that of Gomara, their differences will become clear. For example, Gomara claims that Andreas de Duero was a merchant, when in fact, as governor’s private secretary, he was a highly influential person in the island; and he says Diego de Ordas sailed with Grijalva, though he actually only joined this time with Cortes. But enough of Gomara and his flawed history; let me recount our actions in Trinidad.

## CHAPTER XXI. {.chapter}
*Cortes’s Activities at Trinidad, and the Cavaliers and Warriors Who Joined the Expedition There, and Other Matters.*

When we arrived at Trinidad, the townspeople came out to welcome us and our commander, Cortes. Among the many noblemen in the town, everyone vied for the honor of being Cortes’s host. Cortes immediately raised his standard outside his house and made public the expedition’s details, just as he had in Santiago, while gathering firearms and other necessities. It was here that we were joined by the Alvarado brothers: Pedro (often mentioned in this account), Gonzalo, Jorge, Gomez, and their elder half-brother, Juan Alvarado. We were also joined by Alonso de Avila of Avila, who commanded in Grijalva’s previous expedition; Juan de Escalante; Pedro Sanchez Farsan of Seville; Gonzalo Mexia, who would later serve as treasurer in Mexico; Vaena; Juanes de Fuentarabia; and Christobal de Oli, who would command in the taking of Mexico and other battles in New Spain. Others included Ortiz, the musician; Gaspar Sanchez, nephew to Cuba’s treasurer; Diego de Pinedo; Alonzo Rodriguez, who owned productive gold mines; and Bartolome Garcia. There were also many other nobles whose names I currently cannot recall, but all men of influence and respectability. Cortes then wrote to Santispiritus, fifty-four miles away, to spread news of our expedition. His compelling words and enticing promises brought several leading men from there to join us, such as Hernando Puertocarrero (cousin to the Earl of Medellin), Gonzalo de Sandoval (eight months alguacil-mayor and governor and later a commander in New Spain), Juan Velasquez de Leon (relative of Diego Velasquez), Rodrigo Rangel, Gonzalo Lopez de Ximena and his brother Juan Lopez, and Juan Sedeño. The last was from Santispiritus and joined because two other Sedeños were with us. These gentlemen, all notable men, arrived together in Trinidad, and Cortes, with us all, went to greet them. Cannons were fired, and celebrations held, with mutual professions of respect and friendship. These men owned land near the town and ordered cassava-bread to be made, bacon to be cured, and all other supplies gathered for our ships. We recruited more soldiers here and bought some horses—which were rare and expensive at the time. Alonso Hernandez de Puertocarrero, whom I knew already, couldn’t afford a horse; Cortes bought one for him, paying for it with the gold trim from his velvet robe from Santiago. Then, a ship from Juan Sedeño of the Havannah arrived, loaded with cassava-bread and salted meat for the Santiago mines. Sedeño soon visited Cortes, and after some persuasion, agreed to sell his vessel, cargo and all, and joined the expedition himself. We now had eleven ships, and all was proceeding well, when letters arrived from Diego Velasquez with orders that Cortes was to be removed from command. I will give the details in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER XXII. {.chapter}
*How Governor Diego Velasquez Sent Two Officials in Haste to Trinidad, with Full Power to Remove Cortes from the Captaincy and Seize the Fleet, &c.*

I must now turn back a few days to recount what happened in Santiago de Cuba after our departure. Barely had we set sail before Velasquez’s friends gave him no rest, constantly harassing him until they had completely changed his mind about Cortes. They told him outright that Cortes was lost to him, having secretly slipped out of the harbor with the fleet. Moreover, Cortes had made no secret that he would take command of the expedition, whether Velasquez liked it or not; he had embarked his men by night, so if anyone tried to take the fleet from him, he would resist by force. The governor had been deceived by his secretary Duero and treasurer De Lares, who had conspired to secure the command for Cortes. Velasquez’s relatives especially pushed him to cancel Cortes’s appointment, joined by an old man named Juan Millan, commonly called the astrologer, whom many thought not quite right in the head. This old man kept warning Velasquez that Cortes would exact revenge for his earlier imprisonment—“Sly as he is, he’ll ruin you if you’re not careful.”

These warnings had their effect on Velasquez, bringing about a change of heart and prompting him to send two trusted officials with private instructions to his brother-in-law Francisco de Verdugo, then *alcalde mayor* of Trinidad, commanding him, under all circumstances, to strip Cortes of the fleet, his captaincy revoked, and the command given to Vasco Porcallo. He also wrote to Diego de Ordas, Francisco de Morla, and other friends, urging them to leave the fleet if possible.

Once Cortes learned of this, he held a private meeting with Ordas and those officers and townsmen of Trinidad he suspected might be inclined to obey Velasquez. He spoke to them with much feeling, making great promises, and soon won them over. Diego de Ordas even advised the *alcalde mayor* Francisco de Verdugo not to immediately execute these orders, but to keep them secret, assuring him he had seen nothing in Cortes to warrant suspicion—if anything, he had always proved faithful to the governor. Ordas added that it would be impossible now to remove Cortes while so many officers and soldiers favored him and held grudges against Velasquez for not giving them better encomiendas. If any attempt were made, the whole town would be drawn into the quarrel, our men would plunder it, and worse might follow. With these arguments, Ordas convinced everyone to avoid force; and one of Velasquez’s two officials, Pedro Laso, even joined us. The other was sent back by Cortes with a letter to the governor, full of kind sentiments, expressing amazement at Velasquez’s decision, since he intended only to serve God, the king, and the governor himself. He urged Velasquez not to listen to his cousin or let his affection be spoiled by such nonsense as Juan Millan’s. Cortes also wrote to his friends, especially his two allies, the secretary and the treasurer.

He then ordered all men to repair their arms, set every smith in town to putting points on our lances, and the gunners to collect arrows from every storehouse. He even persuaded the smiths themselves to join the fleet.

We stayed twelve days at Trinidad and then sailed for the Havannah. From this, the reader can see how differently all this is told by Gomara, who claims Velasquez gave chief command to Ordas, who then invited Cortes to dine on his ship, seized him at dinner, and took him prisoner to Santiago. I could list many such errors from Gomara to show it is wiser to believe an eyewitness than an author who writes of things he never saw. Enough about Gomara; let’s move on.

## CHAPTER XXIII. {.chapter}
*Cortes embarks with all his cavaliers and soldiers to sail along the south side of the island to Havana, and sends one of the vessels to go around the north coast to the same port.*

Cortes, finding that he had nothing further to accomplish at Trinidad, informed his officers and men of the departure time, leaving it up to each individual to either proceed to Havana by sea, or to march there overland under the command of Pedro de Alvarado, who would be joined by some men from one of the colonies along the way. Alvarado was a kind-hearted man, who knew best how to manage soldiers; therefore, I myself, along with fifty other military men, gladly joined him; our numbers were further increased by all our horsemen. Cortes also sent a vessel under the command of Juan de Escalante, which was to take the northern route to Havana. Cortes then embarked and sailed with the rest of the squadron for the same port. The transport ships must have lost track of the vessel carrying our commander-in-chief during the night, as they all arrived safely at Havana without him. The troops under Pedro de Alvarado also arrived on time, as did the vessel under Escalante, which had sailed along the north coast.

Only Cortes was left behind; and no one could explain his delay, or what might have detained him. Five days passed without any news of him, and we began to fear he had been shipwrecked near the Jardines, which lie thirty to thirty-six miles from Havana, near the Pinos isles, where the water is very shallow. We decided to send out our three smaller vessels to search for him; but with the preparations required and the many opinions and pieces of advice, two more days went by, and still there was no word from Cortes. All sorts of schemes were devised for who should take command until there was certainty about Cortes’s fate, with Diego de Ordas, acting in his role as Velasquez’s steward and secret observer of our actions, being especially active.

The following misfortune had befallen Cortes. When his vessel, which was of considerable size, had reached the Pinos isles and the shallows of the Jardines, there was not enough depth for her, and she ran aground. The ship had to be unloaded, which was easy due to the proximity of the shore. Once she was refloated and brought into deeper water, she was reloaded and continued on toward Havana. The joy among the officers and soldiers was very great when she came into sight on the horizon—all except for those who had hoped to take command, whose schemes now came to an end. We accompanied Cortes to the house of Pedro Barba, Velasquez’s lieutenant at Trinidad, where quarters had been prepared for him. He immediately raised his standard in front of the house, and by public proclamation invited the inhabitants to join the expedition.

It was here that Francisco de Montejo first joined us, of whom I shall often speak later in this history; after the conquest of Mexico, he became adelantado and governor of Yucatan and Honduras. We were also joined here by Diego de Soto of Toro—who would later be Cortes’s steward in Mexico—along with Angula and Garci Caro, Sebastian Rodriguez, Pacheco, Gutierrez, Royas (not the one commonly called the wealthy), a young man named Santaclara, the two brothers Martinez del Frexenal, and Juan de Najara—not the deaf one from the tennis court at Mexico. They were all men of rank and quality. Other soldiers joined us as well, though I have forgotten their names.

Cortes was filled with joy at seeing all these cavaliers together, and he sent another ship to bring additional supplies from the promontory of Guaniguanico, where Velasquez owned land. There was a village there where cassava bread was made and large quantities of pork were cured. He put Diego de Ordas in command of this vessel; as Velasquez’s steward, Ordas ordered matters as he wished on his master’s property. Cortes wanted to keep him out of the way, having learned that Ordas had spoken unfavorably of him during the dispute over who should command when he had been detained off the Pinos isles. Ordas was instructed to remain in the harbor at Guaniguanico after loading provisions until the arrival of the north-coast vessel, and then to proceed to the island of Cozumel, unless he was given further instructions via Indian canoes.

Francisco de Montejo and other cavaliers of Havana also provided supplies of cassava bread and cured bacon, as there were no other kinds of food available. Meanwhile, Cortes ordered all our heavy guns, consisting of ten copper cannons and a few falconets, to be brought ashore and put in the charge of an artilleryman named Mesa, a certain Arbenga who traded in the Levant, and Juan Catalan, to test them and put them in good repair; they were also to provide proper-size balls and the necessary quantity of powder for each piece. He assigned them an assistant, Bartolome de Usagre, and supplied them with vinegar and wine to polish the copper. Similarly, all our crossbows were inspected and tested for strength by shooting at targets. Cotton being plentiful here, we made cuirasses out of it, which were the most effective protection against Indian arrows, pikes, and slings. Here, too, Cortes improved his household arrangements, and had himself served as a person of high rank. He appointed a certain Guzman as his butler—who was later killed by Indians, though not to be confused with Christobal de Guzman, who later became his steward and took King Quauhtemoc prisoner during the battle in the suburbs of Mexico. Rodrigo Rangel was made his chamberlain, and Juan de Caceres his house steward, who after the conquest became a man of great wealth. Having arranged all these things, he ordered us to be ready to embark and to distribute the horses among the vessels, with the necessary supply of maize and hay provided.

For reference, I will also describe the horses and mares we took on our expedition. Cortes had a dark chestnut stallion, which later died at St. Juan de Ulua. Pedro de Alvarado and Hernando Lopez de Avila shared an excellent brown mare, trained for both battle and tournaments; after arriving in New Spain, Alvarado bought out Lopez’s share—or possibly took it by force. Alonso Hernandez Puertocarrero had a grey mare, purchased by Cortes for him in exchange for the gold borders of his state robe; it was well trained for battle. Juan Velasquez de Leon also had a grey mare, a noble and spirited animal, very eager for battle; we commonly called it the “short tail.”

Christobal de Olid had a dark brown, high-spirited horse. Francisco de Montejo and Alonso de Avila shared a sorrel horse, but it was of little use in battle. Francisco de Morla also had a dark chestnut stallion, very energetic and extremely swift. Juan de Escalante’s light-colored horse was not worth much. Diego de Ordas’s grey mare, which never foaled, was also not very swift. Gonzalo Dominiguez had a small dark brown nag, a very swift and noble animal. Pedro Gonzalez de Truxillo’s brown horse was also quick. Moron, from Vaimo, had a small, reasonably well-trained horse. Vaena, from Trinidad, had a dark horse, though a poor jumper. De Lares’s light chestnut galloway, on the other hand, was a splendid animal and an excellent runner.

Ortiz, the musician, and Bartolome Garcia, who had learned the art of mining, owned a very fine dark horse between them, which they named the Arriero (the mule driver) and was one of the best animals in our corps. Juan Sedeño, from Havana, had a fine chestnut mare, which foaled on board ship. Sedeño was thought to be the wealthiest among us; he had his own ship, a horse, a few enslaved people to serve him, and his own provisions of cassava and cured bacon. At that time, both horses and enslaved people could only be bought at very high prices, which explains why there were so few horses with us on this expedition.

However, I will stop here and tell in the next chapter what happened as we were preparing to embark.

## CHAPTER XXIV. {.chapter}
*Diego Velasquez sends one of his officials, named Gaspar Garnica, with full authority to arrest Cortes, whatever the consequences; and what happened next.*

To make my history clear to my readers, I must sometimes refer back to previous events. Here, I need to return to Diego Velasquez, who, when he learned that his brother-in-law Francisco Verdugo, sub-governor of Trinidad, had not only confirmed Cortes in command of the squadron but, together with Diego de Ordas, had given him every possible assistance, became so furious that he roared like a wild animal. He accused his private secretary Andreas de Duero, and the royal treasurer Almador de Lares, of conspiring to cheat him, claiming that Cortes had run off with the whole squadron. Velasquez did not stop there: he sent one of his officials with strict orders to Pedro Barba, sub-governor of Havana, and wrote to all his relatives in that city, to De Ordas and Juan Velasquez de Leon, his special confidants, urging them, by their loyalty to him, not, under any circumstance, to allow the squadron to leave and to have Cortes arrested and sent to Santiago. When Garnica, the bearer of these messages, arrived, his purpose was immediately suspected. Cortes was even warned by Garnica himself: for a brother of Charity, who was close to Velasquez and greatly favored by him, had sent, through Garnica, a letter to a fellow brother named Bartolome de Olmedo, who had joined our expedition. Through this letter, Cortes was informed of the entire situation by his supporters, Andreas de Duero and the royal treasurer. Since Ordas, as mentioned above, had already been sent for provisions, Cortes now only had to fear opposition from Juan Velasquez de Leon; but he had half-won him over, as he was not on the best of terms with his relative the governor, who had given him only a poor commandery. Thus, Velasquez’s plan was foiled by the very people to whom he had written. In fact, from that moment, these individuals became even more loyal to Cortes, especially sub-governor Pedro Barba, the Alvarados, Puertocarrero, Montejo, Christobal de Olid, Juan de Escalante, Andreas de Monjaraz, and his brother Gregorio, who, with all of us, were ready to risk our lives for Cortes. If Velasquez’s orders had been kept secret in Trinidad, they were kept even more so here; and Pedro de Barba sent Garnica back to Diego Velasquez with the news that he dared not take Cortes into custody, as he was too powerful and much loved by the soldiers, and that trying to do so might lead to the town being looted and all the inhabitants forcibly taken away. He assured Diego Velasquez that Cortes was completely loyal to him and did nothing against his interests. Cortes himself also wrote a letter, skillfully worded as always, assuring Velasquez of his continued friendship and stating that he was about to set sail the very next day.

## CHAPTER XXV. {.chapter}
*Cortes sets sail with the entire squadron for the island of Cozumel, and what happened afterwards.*

Cortes postponed the review of his troops until we reached Cozumel and gave orders to embark the horses. Pedro de Alvarado, in the San Sebastian, a very fast ship, was ordered to sail along the north coast, and his pilot was strictly instructed to head directly for Cape St. Antonio, where all other vessels would meet to set sail for Cozumel; similar instructions were given to Diego de Ordas. After Mass was celebrated, the remaining nine vessels set sail southward on February 10, 1519. Sixty soldiers were on board the San Sebastian under Alvarado, of whom I was one. Our pilot, Camacho, ignored Cortes's orders and sailed directly for Cozumel, so we arrived there two days before the others. We landed at the same harbour as in the previous Grijalva expedition. Cortes had been delayed during the passage by the loss of the rudder of Francisco de Morla's vessel, which had to be replaced with whatever was available.

As mentioned above, our ship reached Cozumel two days before the others, and all the men landed. We did not find a single Indian in the village, as the inhabitants had all fled. Alvarado ordered us to another village about four miles away. There, too, the people had fled to the woods, though they hadn't managed to take all their possessions, so we found many fowls and other goods; but Alvarado allowed us to take only forty fowls. From a nearby temple, we took several cotton mats and small boxes containing a kind of diadem, small idols, and various trinkets made of an inferior grade of gold. We also took two Indians and a woman prisoner, then returned to the village near our landing site.

Meanwhile, Cortes arrived with the rest of the vessels. He had barely set foot ashore when he ordered the pilot Camacho to be put in irons for not following his orders. But his anger was greater still when he learned the village was deserted and that Alvarado had taken, besides the fowls, the religious items and other things, though of little value, being half copper. Having shown no leniency to Camacho, he also sternly reproved Alvarado, saying that robbing the people was no way to win their friendship. He ordered that the two Indian men and the woman we had taken prisoner be brought to him, and questioned them. Melchorillo, whom we had captured at the promontory of Cotoche (Julianillo had since died), and brought with us, understood the language of the area and interpreted for us. Cortes sent the three prisoners to the cacique and the villagers, telling them they had nothing to fear from us and should return to their homes. He also returned the religious items and golden trinkets and gave them glass beads to compensate for the fowls we had eaten; in addition, he gave each of them a Spanish shirt. They delivered Cortes’s message faithfully; for the very next day, the cacique returned with all the villagers, and they spoke to us so openly it was as if they had known us all their lives. Indeed, Cortes had given strict orders that they not be mistreated in any way. It was here as well that Cortes began strict discipline and worked tirelessly, a quality that drew Providence’s blessing; for everything he undertook went well, especially in making peace with the local peoples. This will be demonstrated further as my history unfolds.

## CHAPTER XXVI. {.chapter}
*Cortes reviews his troops, and what happened next.*

On the third day after our arrival at Cozumel, Cortes reviewed all his troops. Excluding the pilots and marines, our number was 508 men. There were 109 sailors and sixteen horses, all trained for tournaments and battle alike. Our squadron comprised eleven vessels of different sizes, including a brigantine owned by a man named Gines Nortes. There were thirty-three crossbowmen and thirteen musketeers, along with our heavy guns and four falconets, and a large amount of powder and ammunition. As to the exact number of crossbowmen, I cannot swear with certainty, but it matters little whether there were a few more or less.

After the review, Cortes ordered the artillerymen Mesa, Bartolome de Usagre, Arbenga, and a certain Catalonian whose name escapes me, to keep all our firearms clean and in good condition, ensure every cannon had the proper size ball, prepare the cartridges, and distribute the powder as needed. The main responsibility for the gun department went to Francisco de Oroze, who had proved himself a brave soldier in the Italian wars. Juan Benitez and Pedro de Guzman were tasked with inspecting the crossbows and ensuring each had two or three nuts and as many strings. They were also responsible for supervising target practice and the breaking-in of the horses, especially to accustom them to the noise of firearms. I have now given enough detail about our armament; the truth is, Cortes paid attention to even the smallest details in such matters.

## CHAPTER XXVII. {.chapter}
*Cortes receives information that two Spaniards are in the power of the Indians at the promontory of Cotoche: the steps he took upon this news.*

As Cortes attended to every detail, he summoned both myself and Martin Camos of Biscay into his presence and asked what we thought about the word *Castilian*, *Castilian*, which the Indians of Campeachy had so often repeated when we landed there under Hernandez de Cordoba’s command.

We again explained everything that had happened there. He told us he had often considered this matter and could not help thinking there must be some Spaniards among the inhabitants. He believed it would be a good idea to question the caziques of Cozumel about it. Cortes accordingly did this, and asked Melchorejo—who by now had learned some Spanish and fully understood Cozumel’s language—to question the chiefs. Their accounts completely matched, and they clearly confirmed there were several Spaniards in the country whom they had seen themselves; these Spaniards served the caziques, who lived two days’ march inland, as slaves. Only a few days earlier, some Indian merchants had spoken with them.

We were all overjoyed at this news. Cortes told the chiefs he would send letters to the Spaniards—what they called amales in their language—inviting them to come to us. The cazique and other Indians who agreed to deliver these letters were treated very kindly by Cortes, who gave them gifts of all kinds and promised even more upon their return. The cazique then told Cortes that it would be necessary to send a ransom to the chiefs the Spaniards served before they would let the men go. So various glass beads were given as ransom to the messengers, and Cortes sent two of the smaller vessels, armed with twenty crossbowmen and a few musketeers, under Diego de Ordas, to the coast of Cotoche. He ordered them to stay for eight days with the larger of the two vessels, and to send him regular updates by the other ship while the messengers carried letters back and forth. The promontory of Cotoche was only nine miles away, and the whole area seemed to be one country. Following is the letter Cortes wrote to the Spaniards:

“Dear Sirs and Brothers,—Here, on the island of Cozumel, I learned you are being held prisoners by a cazique. I urge you to come here to me, on the island of Cozumel. To help you, I have sent an armed ship and ransom money, should the Indians require it. The vessel will remain off the promontory of Cotoche for eight days, waiting for you. Please come as quickly as possible; you can rely on being honorably treated by me. I am here with eleven vessels armed with 500 soldiers, and, with God’s help and yours, I plan to go to a place called Tabasco, or Potonchon, etc.”

With this letter, the two Indian merchants boarded our ship, which crossed the narrow gulf in three hours, and there the messengers landed with the ransom money.

After a couple of days, they actually delivered the letter to one of the Spaniards in question, who, as we later learned, was named Geronimo de Aguilar. I will refer to him by that name from now on. After reading the letter and receiving the ransom, he was extremely happy and brought it to his master the cazique to request his freedom. As soon as he was granted this, he went to seek out his companion, Gonzalo Guerrero, and told him everything. Guerrero replied as follows:

“Brother Aguilar,—I have here joined myself to one of the women of this country and have three children with her; and during wartime, I’m as good as a cazique or chief. Go, and may God be with you: but as for myself, I could not face my countrymen again. My face is already disfigured in Indian custom, and my ears are pierced: what would they say seeing me like this? Just look at my three children—what lovely little things they are! Please, give me some of your glass beads for them, and I shall tell them my brothers sent these from my homeland.”

Guerrero’s Indian wife spoke in the same tone, upset by Aguilar’s errand. “Just look at that slave (she said), he’s come to take my husband away from me! Mind your own business and don’t trouble us.”

Aguilar later made another attempt to persuade Gonzalo to leave, reminding him he was a Christian and that he should not risk his soul’s salvation for an Indian woman. He even urged Guerrero to take his wife and children with him if he could not bear to leave them. Still, Aguilar’s efforts were in vain; he could not convince Gonzalo to join him. This Guerrero was likely a sailor and a native of Palos. He stayed with the Indians, while only Geronimo de Aguilar left with the Indian messengers, making his way to the coast where our ship was supposed to wait. But the ship had already gone; after De Ordas waited the eight days and one extra, seeing no sign of anyone, he sailed back to Cozumel. Aguilar was very disheartened to find the ship gone and returned once more to his Indian master.

Ordas did not receive the best welcome when returning without the ransom or any information about the Spaniards—or even the Indian messengers. Cortes, with great anger, told him he had expected better, and that he should not have returned without the Spaniards or any word of them, especially knowing they were in that country. Cortes had just that moment been angered by another incident. A soldier named Berrio had accused some sailors from Gibraleon of stealing two sides of bacon, which they refused to return. They denied the theft even under oath; but after a thorough search, the bacon was found hidden among their belongings. There were seven sailors involved, and despite pleas from their officers, Cortes ordered them severely whipped.

It seemed the island of Cozumel was a pilgrimage site for the Indians; neighboring tribes from Cotoche and other regions of Yucatan would gather there to sacrifice to certain abominable idols, which stood in a temple. One morning we saw that the area where these hideous images stood was crowded with Indians and their wives. They burned a sort of resin much like our incense. As this was such a strange sight, we watched closely. Then, an old man in a wide cloak—who was a priest—climbed to the very top of the temple and began preaching to the Indians. Curious about the sermon’s meaning, Cortes asked Melchorejo to interpret. Hearing that all the priest spoke was heathenish, Cortes summoned the caziques, their principal men, and the priest, telling them through our interpreter that if they wanted to be our brothers, they had to stop sacrificing to these idols, which were no true gods but evil beings that led them into error and condemned their souls to hell. He then presented them with the image of the Virgin Mary and a cross, asking them to put these up instead. These, he said, would bless them, make their crops flourish, and save their souls from eternal damnation. Cortes powerfully explained many other aspects of our holy faith. The caziques and priests answered that their ancestors had worshipped these idols before them because they were good gods, and they intended to do the same. They added that we would see the power of these gods: as soon as we left, we would all surely sink to the bottom of the sea.

Cortes, however, paid little attention to such threats, but ordered that the idols be taken down and smashed to pieces, which was quickly done. A quantity of lime—which was plentiful there—was gathered, and with the help of Indian masons, a beautiful altar was built. There we placed the image of the Holy Virgin. At the same time, our carpenters, Alonso Yañez and Alvaro Lopez, made a cross from new wood and set it up in a kind of chapel built behind the altar. When all was finished, father Juan Diaz said mass before the new altar, while the caziques and priests watched very closely.

Before closing this chapter, I must mention that the caziques on the island of Cozumel, like those on the mainland at Potonchan, are also called Calachionies.

## CHAPTER XXVIII. {.chapter}
*The manner in which Cortes divides the squadron. The officers whom he appointed to the command of the several vessels. His instructions to the pilots; the signals which were to be made with lanterns at night, &c.*

The following were the officers commanding the various vessels.

Cortes himself led the main vessel and the whole squadron. The San Sebastian, a very fast sailor, was commanded by Alvarado and his brother. The other vessels were under the command of Alonso Hernandez Puertocarrero, Francisco de Montejo, Christobal de Oli, Diego de Ordas, Juan Velasquez de Leon, Juan de Escalante, Francisco de Morla, and Escobar the page. The smallest ship, a kind of brigantine, was under its owner, Gines Nortes.

Each ship had its own pilot, who received instructions and also the lantern signal orders from Alaminos.

Once Cortes had arranged these assignments, he took leave of the caziques and priests, commending them most warmly to the image of the Holy Virgin and the cross. He told them to pray before them, not to harm them, but to keep them decorated with fresh green branches. He assured them they would receive great benefits from this. They promised to do everything he asked, brought him four more hens and two jars of honey, and departed with us after many friendly embraces. It was sometime in March, 1519, when we set sail again. We were making good progress with the wind in our favor, when on the very first day at ten in the morning, one of our ships signaled distress with both flags and gunfire. When Cortes saw and heard this, he looked over the stern and saw Juan de Escalante’s ship heading straight back to Cozumel. “What’s the matter? What does this mean?” Cortes shouted to the nearest ship. A soldier named Zaragoza answered that Escalante’s ship, carrying cassava bread, was rapidly sinking. “God forbid!” cried Cortes, “That any disaster should befall us here,” and ordered our chief pilot, Alaminos, to signal all ships to return to Cozumel. Thus we entered the harbor we had just left, unloaded the cassava bread, and, to our pleasure, found the image of the Holy Virgin and the cross in perfect condition and incense burning before them. Not long after, the caziques and priests again greeted us, asking why we had returned so soon. Cortes explained that one of our ships was leaky and needed repairs, and asked for their help with their canoes to unload the cassava bread. They gladly helped, and it took us four more days to repair the ship.

## CHAPTER XXIX. {.chapter}
*How the Spaniard Geronimo de Aguilar, who was in the power of the Indians, came to us when he learnt that we had again returned to the island of Cozumel, and what further happened.*

When the Spaniard in the hands of the Indians learned that we had returned to Cozumel, he was overjoyed and thanked God with all his heart.

He immediately hired a canoe with six excellent rowers for himself and the Indians who had brought him the glass beads. The rowers were well paid with these, which were so precious to them, and they worked so well that the channel between the island and the mainland—a distance of about twelve miles—was soon crossed. Upon reaching the island and landing, some soldiers returning from hunting musk swine informed Cortes that a large canoe had just arrived from Cotoche. Cortes immediately sent Andreas de Tapia with a few men to hear their news. As Tapia and his men neared the shore, the Indians who had accompanied Geronimo became frightened and tried to return to their canoe, preparing to take to the sea. Aguilar, however, told them in their language not to fear, as we were their brothers. Tapia at first took Aguilar for an Indian, since he looked exactly like one, and sent word to Cortes that the seven Indians who had landed were inhabitants of Cozumel. Only when the group reached them and heard the stranger say, in broken Spanish, “God, holy Virgin, Sevilla,” and rush up to Tapia to embrace him, did they realize this strange-looking man was a Spaniard. One of Tapia’s men ran to inform Cortes that a Spaniard had arrived in the canoe, expecting a handsome reward for the news.

We all rejoiced greatly at this, and soon Tapia himself arrived with the peculiar-looking Spaniard. As they passed, many of us still asked Tapia, “Which one is the Spaniard?”—even though he was walking right beside him, so much did he look like an Indian. His skin was naturally rather dark, his hair was cut like that of an Indian slave, he carried a paddle over his shoulder, had one leg covered with an old, ragged stocking, while the other was hardly better, and tied around his waist. A torn cloak hung over his shoulders; his maltatas were in worse shape, and his prayer book, badly worn, was folded into the corner of his cloak.

When Cortes saw this man’s outfit, he, like all of us, asked Tapia where the Spaniard was. When Geronimo heard this, he crouched in the Indian way and said, “I am he.” Cortes gave him a shirt, coat, trousers, cap, and shoes from our stores, and asked him to recount the story of his life and how he ended up in that country.

He explained, though still in broken Spanish, that his name was Geronimo d’Aguilar and he was a native of Ecija. About eight years earlier, he was shipwrecked with fifteen men and two women, on a voyage between Darien and the island of St. Domingo, in connection with a lawsuit between a certain Enciso and Valdivia. They had 10,000 pesos on board and the related legal papers. Their ship struck a rock and could not be freed. The entire crew boarded the boat hoping to reach Cuba or Jamaica, but currents drove them ashore, where the Calachionies took them prisoner and divided them up. Most of his unlucky companions were sacrificed to their gods, and some died of grief, including both the women, who quickly wasted away from the hard labor of grinding wheat forced on them by the Indians. Aguilar himself had also been selected as a sacrifice, but escaped at night, fleeing to the cazique who had become his master, whose name he could not now recall. Only Aguilar and Gonzalo Guerrero survived, and he had tried everything to persuade Guerrero to leave, but failed.

When Cortes heard this, he gave thanks to God and told Aguilar he hoped, with His blessing, he would never regret his decision. He then asked questions about the country and its people. Aguilar replied that he couldn’t offer much information: he had been treated as a slave, used only to fetch wood and water and labor in the maize fields. Only once was he sent about twelve miles off, but under a heavy load, and in his weakened state, he hadn’t managed to get that far. Otherwise, he had merely heard that the region was densely populated. As for his companion Alonso Guerrero, he had married an Indian woman and had three children, and adopted Indian customs—his face tattooed, ears pierced, lips lowered. Guerrero, a sailor by trade from Palos, was considered very strong among the Indians. About a year ago, a squadron of three vessels visited Cotoche (probably Hernandez de Cordoba’s expedition), and Guerrero had advised the locals to attack, acting together with the caziques of a large area. Cortes commented that he would like to have Guerrero in his power, as letting him remain with the Indians would do us no good.

The caziques of Cozumel were very friendly to Aguilar once they heard him speak their language. Aguilar advised them always to honor the image of the Holy Virgin and the cross, as blessings would come from this. He also advised them to ask Cortes for letters of recommendation to any future Spaniards who might come to the harbor, so they would not be harmed. Cortes readily agreed, and after many assurances of friendship, we weighed anchor and set sail for the river Grijalva.

For the reader’s benefit, I assure you that all I have reported about Aguilar is what the man told us directly, although the historian Gomara gives a very different story—though that should not surprise us, as his intention was mostly to entertain readers with a strange tale.

## CHAPTER XXX. {.chapter}
*How we re-embark and sail for the river Grijalva, and what happened to us on our voyage there.*

On March 4, 1519, the day after we happily gained such an excellent and trustworthy interpreter, Cortes gave the order to re-embark. We did so in the same fashion as before, and the same instructions regarding lantern signals at night were issued. For some time, the weather was perfect; however, towards evening it suddenly changed, and strong winds blew against us, putting all our ships in danger of being driven ashore. Around midnight, by God’s favor, the wind calmed, and at daybreak our ships regrouped—except for one, Velasquez de Leon’s, which caused grave concern, as we feared she’d been wrecked on the shoals. We didn’t realize she was missing until midday, and as evening approached, and with still no sign of her, Cortes told our chief pilot Alaminos we could not continue without searching for her. Signals were made for all the ships to drop anchor and wait for the missing vessel, assuming she had been driven to some harbor by contrary winds. Alaminos, still seeing no sign of her, said to Cortes, “You can be sure, sir, she’s found a harbor along this coast and is wind-bound; her pilot Manquillo has sailed these seas twice before—with Hernandez de Cordoba and again with Grijalva—and knows this bay.” So it was decided we should all return to the bay Alaminos mentioned to search for her, and to our great delight we found her safe at anchor, where we all stayed a day. During this time, Alaminos and one of our lead officers, Francisco de Lugo, went ashore in two boats. They found the land populated, saw many maize fields, salt works, and four cues (large temples) with numerous figures, mostly of women and of impressive height. Thus this promontory was named *la punta de las Mujeres* (the point of women). Aguilar noted this was where he had once been a slave among the Indians; it was here his master had found him collapsed under the weight of a heavy load he’d been forced to carry. The town where Alonso Guerrero lived was not far away. Every local had gold, though in small amounts; if we wished, Aguilar could show us the way. To this Cortes replied jokingly that he hadn’t come for such trifles, but to serve God and his king. In the meantime, he sent Escobar, one of our commanders, in a speedier, smaller vessel to explore the Terminos Bay, scout the country for a good settlement site, and find out whether there really was so much game as reported. This was on the chief pilot’s advice, to spare the whole fleet the trouble of stopping unless necessary. Escobar was to leave evidence of his visit at the harbor—maybe by felling trees or leaving a written message—so we’d know he’d been there and could rejoin us after exploring.

With these orders, Escobar sailed to Terminos Bay, executed all instructions, and even found the greyhound that had run away from us when we landed there with Grijalva. It was glossy and fat, and immediately recognized the ship, wagging its tail and jumping up on our men as it boarded. Escobar left the bay, hoping to meet us upon our arrival, but was pushed far out to sea by a strong south wind. Returning now to our main squadron at Punta de las Mujeres, we left there the next morning with a fresh land breeze and reached the entrance to Terminos Bay, though we saw nothing of Escobar. Cortes ordered a boat with ten crossbowmen to enter the bay and look for signs or papers as instructed. Several felled trees were found, and, nearby, a small note said the bay and countryside were delightful, game was plentiful, and the dog had been found. Our chief pilot advised Cortes we should continue, since the south wind had likely forced Escobar out to sea, though he could not be far off. Cortes still feared something might have happened to him, but gave the order to sail on, and soon we rejoined Escobar, who described all he had seen and what had prevented him from waiting. In this way, we sailed on to the coast near Potonchan, and Cortes ordered Alaminos to approach the inlet where Cordoba and Grijalva had suffered disaster. Alaminos argued that it was risky for the ships, since the waters were very shallow and we’d be forced to anchor six miles from shore. Cortes wanted to punish the inhabitants severely, and many of us who had been at the earlier battles begged him to let us take revenge. But Alaminos and the other pilots said we would lose more than three days by anchoring there, and, if the weather turned, we might be delayed over eight. The wind was now ideal for reaching the Tabasco River, our main goal, which we could reach in two days. So we put out to sea and reached Tabasco after three days’ sailing.

## CHAPTER XXXI. {.chapter}
*How we arrive in the river Grijalva, called in the Indian language the Tabasco; the battle we fought there; and what further took place.*

On March 12, 1519, our entire squadron arrived at the mouth of the Tabasco. From our previous experience during the Grijalva expedition, we knew that ships of any substantial size could not enter the river’s mouth. Therefore, our larger vessels anchored at sea, and only the smaller ones, along with our boats carrying all the men, sailed up the river to disembark at the promontory with the palm trees, about four miles from the town of Tabasco—the same spot where Grijalva had landed.

We noticed many Indians, all armed, lurking among the almond trees along the shore. This greatly surprised those of us who had been here before with Grijalva. Additionally, over 12,000 armed men had gathered in the town itself to attack us. The town was powerful at that time, with many others subject to it. These preparations for war were due to the following: The people of Potonchan, Lazaro, and other neighboring tribes had accused the Tabascans of cowardice for giving Grijalva the gold trinkets previously mentioned. They reproached them even more because Tabasco’s population and warriors greatly outnumbered the other tribes, who had bravely attacked and killed fifty-six of our men. Because of these reproaches, they too now prepared to fight us. Seeing these arrangements, Cortes asked our interpreter Aguilar, who spoke the Tabasco language fluently, to inquire of some Indians passing in a large canoe what all this commotion meant; we had come to do them no harm and were willing to treat them as brothers, sharing our food. He warned them they would regret going to war with us. Aguilar explained all this to them, urging peace, but the more he said, the more arrogant they became, threatening to destroy us if we landed on their territory or in their town, which they had fortified with heavy felled trees and a strong stone wall. Aguilar tried again for peace and for permission to fetch water, trade for provisions, and speak of the message we brought in God’s name. Still, they insisted we must not go beyond the palm trees, or they would kill us all.

When Cortes saw that making peace was hopeless, he ordered the small ships and boats prepared for battle. Three cannon were put on each of the former, and the crossbowmen and musketeers were equally assigned among them. We recalled from Grijalva’s earlier voyage that a narrow road ran from the palm trees through swampy grounds and wells to the town. Here Cortes posted three sentinels to see if the Indians went home at night and, if so, to inform him at once. News soon came that this was indeed the case. The rest of the day we spent scouting the country and preparing the vessels. The next morning, after attending mass and arming ourselves well, Cortes sent Alonso de Avila with a hundred men, including ten crossbowmen, along the narrow road to the town. He was to attack from one side as soon as he heard the cannon, while we attacked from the river; Cortes himself would proceed with the rest of our men by boat.

When the Indians, waiting along the coast by the palm trees, saw us approach, they jumped into canoes to block our landing. Warriors with every kind of weapon packed the shore, while a deafening noise came from their twisted shells, drums, and flutes. Cortes told us to halt for a moment and not to fire yet. He was careful that everything was done properly, so he had the royal secretary and Diego de Godoy again request the locals to let us come ashore peacefully to replenish water supplies. Aguilar was interpreter. They were also to give them some sense of the Lord God and His imperial majesty, and explain that if they attacked and we had to defend ourselves, the guilt for any deaths would fall on them, not us. The Indians, however, only renewed their threats, swearing to destroy us if we came ashore. The battle soon began; they unleashed a hail of arrows, and the drummers signaled the rest to attack. In an instant they rushed forward, surrounding us with canoes and shooting arrows so rapidly that many of us were wounded. We had to fight for some time in water up to our waists or higher. The ground where we tried to land was muddy and clay-filled, making movement difficult as we defended ourselves from arrows and lances. Cortes, fighting like the rest of us, had to abandon one shoe in the mud to reach solid ground. We all struggled before we reached dry land, but once we did, we attacked fiercely, shouting for our patron St. James, and forced the enemy to retreat. They then fell back again, rallying behind felled trees and wood. They resisted stubbornly, but we forced passages to the town, entering it under fire. The battle continued in the streets until another barricade with fresh defenders held us back. Here the fight raged, the Indians yelling, “*ala lala, al calachoni, al calachoni!*”—meaning in their language, kill the commander-in-chief. As we battled, Alonso de Avila’s men, who had been delayed by marshes and pools, arrived. This delay actually helped, since we had also wasted time trying for peace and struggling ashore. United, we drove the Indians from this last post, though they bravely fought with arrows and fire-hardened lances and did not retreat until we had broken into a large courtyard with spacious rooms and three temples—though the Indians had taken away their religious objects.

With the enemy fleeing, Cortes called a halt so we could formally claim the country for his majesty. He drew his sword and gave two deep cuts to a large ceiba tree in the courtyard, declaring he would defend the possession with sword and shield against any claimant. We all declared our support, and the royal treasurer officially recorded it. Only the followers of Diego Velasquez were displeased, as Velasquez’s name was not mentioned.

In this fight, fourteen of our men were wounded, myself included, though my thigh wound was minor. The Indians lost eighteen men in total. That night we remained on guard, posting sentinels, for we deemed vigilance especially necessary.

## CHAPTER XXXII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes despatches two of our principal officers, each with one hundred men, to explore the interior of the country, and what further took place.*

The next day, Cortes sent Alvarado with one hundred men, including fifteen crossbowmen and musketeers, to march six miles inland and explore. He was to bring Melchorejo from Punta de Cotoche, but he could not be found. Most likely he had escaped in a canoe the night before with the people of Tabasco, since the previous day he left his Spanish clothes hanging in a tree. Cortes was very annoyed, as Melchorejo might reveal useful information to the locals.

I will, however, leave the fugitive to his fate and continue the narrative.

Cortes also sent our chief officer Francisco de Lugo with another hundred men, including twelve crossbowmen and musketeers, with similar orders but in a different direction, and to return to base by evening.

About four miles into his march, De Lugo encountered many Indians led by several chiefs. Armed as usual, they quickly surrounded our men and launched a shower of arrows. The enemy’s numbers were too great for our small force. They threw lances and stones from slings, and then attacked with sharp swords wielded with both hands. De Lugo and his men fought bravely, but could not drive back so many. They began an orderly retreat, sending a swift Indian from Cuba ahead to inform Cortes and ask for reinforcements. During all this, De Lugo’s men, especially the crossbowmen and musketeers, stood firm against the enemy.

Meanwhile, Alvarado had marched about four miles in his direction when he encountered an impassable inlet. Fortunately, he decided to return and headed toward the sounds of battle—muskets firing, drums, trumpets, and Indians’ shouting. Realizing the enemy had attacked again, Alvarado went straight to the fight, finding De Lugo’s men hard pressed and with five already dead. Both groups then combined and attacked, dispersing the Indians but unable to defeat them completely. They might have followed us all the way back if Cortes had not arrived with the rest of our troops; with some sharp fighting, the enemy finally retreated. As soon as Cortes learned of De Lugo’s predicament, he brought all his men and joined the two commanders about two miles from headquarters. We didn’t escape without loss: two of De Lugo’s men were killed and eight wounded; Alvarado had three wounded. At headquarters, we treated the wounded, buried the dead, and posted sentinels to avoid surprise attacks. The enemy lost fifteen killed in this battle, and we captured three prisoners, one apparently a chief. Our interpreter Aguilar asked them why they attacked, and one replied that Melchorejo, whom we brought from Punta de Cotoche, had joined them the night before and advised them to attack us continually, day and night, saying they would eventually defeat our small band. This confirmed Cortes’s concerns over Melchorejo’s escape.

We then sent one of our prisoners to the local chiefs with green glass beads and peace offers, but he never returned. Our other two prisoners, questioned by Aguilar, revealed that all neighboring chiefs had been under arms to attack us the previous day, and would come again the next day to storm our headquarters—all on Melchorejo’s advice.

## CHAPTER XXXIII. {.chapter}
*Cortes issues orders that we should hold ourselves in readiness to march against the Indians on the following day; he also commands the horses to be brought on shore. How the battle terminates we fought with them.*

Cortes, now sure that the Indians would attack again, immediately ordered all our horses to be brought ashore, and everyone—including the wounded—to be ready. When the horses, after so long at sea, found themselves on solid ground again, they seemed awkward and nervous. However, the next day, their usual spirit returned. Also, six or seven of our men—young and otherwise strong—were suddenly stricken with severe pain in the groin and unable to walk without support. No one could guess the cause; it was said they had indulged too much in Cuba and that the heat and heavy armor were to blame. Cortes had them sent back on board. The horsemen were ordered to hang bells around the horses’ necks, and Cortes emphasized not to charge with lances until the Indians were scattered, and then to aim only at their faces. The following men were chosen to fight on horseback: Christobal de Oli, Pedro de Alvarado, Alonso Hernandez Puertocarrero, and Juan de Escalante. Francisco de Montejo and Alonso de Avila were given the horses of Ortiz the musician and a Bartolome Garcia (though neither horse was impressive). Also, Velasquez de Leon, Francisco de Morla, one of the Lares (we had two excellent horsemen named Lares), and Gonzalo Dominiguez—all fine horsemen. Lastly, Moron de Bayamo and Pedro de Truxillo, and Cortes himself led them. Mesa was in charge of artillery, and the rest, under Diego de Ordas, were crossbowmen and musketeers—he excelled at both, though not as a horseman. The following morning, the feast of the Annunciation, we heard mass early and assembled under our standard, led by Antonio de Villareal. We then marched toward extensive bean fields where the earlier fighting had taken place near the village of Cintla, about four miles from headquarters, belonging to the Tabascans. Cortes had to take a detour due to marshes impassable for horses. Our other troops, led by Diego de Ordas, met the Indians near Cintla, where they were drawn up on the plain. If the enemy sought a true battle, they had it here—a fight as fierce as any, as will be seen.

## CHAPTER XXXIV. {.chapter}
*How we are attacked by all the caziques of Tabasco, and the whole armed force of this province, and what further took place.*

The Indians came searching for us as we arrived. Each wore a large bunch of feathers on his head, a cotton cuirass, and had his face painted white, black, and red. Along with drums and trumpets, they were armed with huge bows and arrows, shields, lances, and broadswords; there were also slingers and some with fire-hardened poles. The Indians were so numerous that they filled the bean fields, and they immediately attacked us on all sides with rage. Their assault was so fierce, and the arrows, stones, and lances so numerous, that over seventy of our men were wounded quickly, and one, Saldaña, was struck in the ear by an arrow and died instantly. They pressed on with pikes, arrows, and continued wounding us. Still, we repaid them with our crossbows, muskets, and heavy cannon, fighting with our swords. In this way we forced them to give a little ground, but only so they could shoot at us from farther, thinking themselves safer. Even then, our artilleryman Mesa wreaked havoc among them with the cannon, as they stood packed together and within range. Despite our slaughter among their ranks, they would not break. I suggested to Commander Diego de Ordas that we charge and close with the Indians because I saw that their only fear was of our swords—they kept shooting arrows and stones from a distance. De Ordas thought it unwise, as we each would have had to face three hundred at once.

Yet my advice was finally taken up and we charged hard enough to push them back to the wells. Throughout this, Cortes and the cavalry were not yet with us, and we began to worry that something had happened to them. I will never forget the shrieks and whistles the Indians made at every shot, nor how they tried to hide their losses by tossing up earth and straw, making noise with drums and war-whoops, “*Ala lala*.”

At that moment, Cortes arrived at a gallop with the cavalry. The Indians, still busy engaging us, did not notice at once, so our horsemen swept into them from behind. With the ground well-suited for maneuvering, and with most of the horses strong and spirited, our small cavalry made the most of their charge. When we, already engaged, saw the cavalry burst in from behind, we fought with renewed energy, while the horsemen forced the enemy to turn and face them. The Indians, who had never seen horses, thought horse and man were a single creature. Astonished by this strange sight, they abandoned the plain and fled to a rise in the ground.

Cortes then explained his delay: the marsh had held him up, and he had to fight through yet more enemy forces along the way, suffering five men and eight horses wounded.

We rested under trees after the battle, praising God and the holy Virgin for the victory. As it was the feast of the Annunciation, the new town later built here was named Santa Maria de la Vitoria, in honor of our victory. This was the first battle under Cortes in New Spain.

After giving thanks, we dressed wounds with linen—our only bandages. Horse wounds we treated with melted fat cut from Indian corpses. We also counted the enemy dead, finding over eight hundred, many still breathing. Our swords had done the most damage, though the cannon killed many too. Everywhere the cavalry appeared, the enemy's losses were greatest. The battle lasted about an hour; the enemy held their ground until the cavalry charged. Among the five prisoners we took were two chiefs.

Tired and hungry, we returned to camp, buried the two soldiers (one with an arrow wound to the neck, the other to the ear), posted strong watches, ate supper and rested.

Francisco Lopez de Gomara, in his account, writes that before Cortes arrived with the cavalry, the holy apostle St. James or St. Peter in person rode up on a gray horse to help us. I can only say that we owe this victory to our Lord Jesus Christ, and that in this fight each of us was set upon by so many that, had they just thrown a handful of earth apiece, we would have been buried. Certainly, God showed mercy to us here, and perhaps it really was St. James or St. Peter aiding us. If, because of my sins, I was not worthy to see such a vision, I can nevertheless remember Francisco de Morla riding his brown horse with Cortes; I see it as clearly now as then. Yet I never heard any of our four hundred men, nor Cortes, nor any of the horsemen, confirm this miracle. Had it happened, surely we would have built a church and named the town Santiago or San Pedro de la Vitoria, not Santa Maria. If Gomara’s account is factual, then indeed we were poor Christians for not showing greater thanks for such divine help. Nevertheless, I would be delighted if what he writes were true, although I never heard this story until reading his book, nor from any fellow conquistador present at the battle.

## CHAPTER XXXV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes assembles all the caziques of this province, and what further happened.*

As I mentioned, in the battle we took five prisoners, including two chiefs. Aguilar, who understood their language, often spoke with them, and from their comments realized we could use them as envoys to their people. He told Cortes, who agreed, and ordered both prisoners released and given blue glass beads; Aguilar then told them many things designed to please the people and benefit us. He assured them that after this battle, which they themselves had forced, they had nothing more to fear, and urged them to assemble all the district’s caziques, as we wished to speak with them. Aguilar’s every word aimed for peace. The prisoners eagerly complied, relaying our wishes to the chiefs and leaders, telling them how much we desired friendship. This message succeeded, as they sent us fifteen Indian slaves bringing fowls, baked fish, and corn bread. The slaves had their faces blackened and wore ragged cloaks. When they arrived before Cortes, he greeted them kindly, but Aguilar, feigning anger, asked why they arrived with painted faces, as if for war. If they truly sought peace, he said, they should send people of rank, not slaves, and instructed them to tell this to their senders. We still treated these “black faces” kindly, giving them blue beads as a gesture of peace and goodwill. Sure enough, the next day, over thirty leading Indians dressed well came to our camp, bringing poultry, fruit, and corn bread, and asked Cortes's permission to burn and bury their fallen countrymen’s bodies, to avoid pestilence or wild animals. Permission granted, they brought many helpers to burn and bury the bodies as was their custom. Cortes watched, and they claimed they had over 800 dead, besides the wounded, but said they could not yet negotiate; all the chiefs and leaders would gather the next day to consider our peace offer.

Cortes, making use of every opportunity, said to us: “It seems to me, gentlemen, that the Indians greatly fear our horses, and believe the horses and our guns alone do the fighting. I’ve had an idea that will reinforce this belief. Bring here Juan Sedeño’s mare that foaled on board, and tie her where I stand. Then also bring Ortiz the musician’s stallion, a fiery animal, and keep them separate until I am talking with the caziques, so they don’t see or hear them.” So it was done. He also ordered our largest cannon to be loaded with powder and ball.

Around midday, forty caziques arrived in full regalia. They greeted Cortes and us, perfumed us with incense, apologized for what had happened, and promised friendship in future. Through Aguilar, Cortes responded sternly, saying he had repeatedly asked for peace, and because of their stubbornness, we had nearly destroyed them and all the inhabitants. He told them we were subjects of the great emperor Charles, who had sent us to help those who accepted his authority, as we would if they were friendly. If not, the *tepustles*—their word for cannon—would be fired, and after their attack, the cannon were already angry with them. Cortes then ordered the largest cannon fired; the thunderous report echoed along the hills. The caziques looked dismayed, having never seen such a thing, and believed all Cortes threatened. Aguilar was to comfort them, saying Cortes had ordered they not be harmed. At that moment the stallion was led in, tied near the conference. As the mare was also nearby, the stallion neighed, stamped, and reared, fixing its eyes on the Indians—though the mare was behind the tent. The caziques thought the horse was challenging them and were visibly shaken. To increase the effect, Cortes walked over, took the bridle, and had the horse led away. Aguilar convinced the Indians that Cortes had told the horse to do them no harm.

Meanwhile, over thirty Indian porters, called tamemes, brought fowl, fish, and fruit—their heavy loads likely delaying them. The caziques and Cortes engaged in lively conversation, ending with the promise that the next day they would return with a gift.

## CHAPTER XXXVI. {.chapter}
*How all the caziques and calachonis of the river Grijalva arrive with presents, and what happened after this.*

The following morning, near the end of March 1519, several caziques, along with the leading figures from the Tabasco district and nearby areas, arrived. They greeted us with deep respect, bringing a gift that included four crowns, some lizard figures, earrings, four ducks, dog-like figurines, others with Indian faces, two sandals with golden soles, and various other small golden trinkets, the value of which I no longer recall. They also brought cloaks similar to those worn by the Indians, which are quite practical. Altogether, the present was of little value—likely the whole province had scant riches—and it certainly could not compare to the twenty women they also gave us. Among them was a very beautiful woman who would later become a Christian and was named Doña Marina. Cortés was greatly pleased with this present. Through Aguilar, he spoke at length with the caziques, saying their gift was very welcome; but there was something more he asked: they should return to their homes with their wives and children. He said he would only see the peace as finalized if, within two days, all inhabitants had come back to the village. The caziques then gave the necessary orders, and within a couple of days, all the families returned. They also showed willingness when Cortés asked them to abolish their idols and human sacrifices. He tried, as best he could, to teach them something of our holy Christian faith, and how we worship only one God. We also showed them a pious image—the mother of God holding her blessed Son—and explained that we venerated this figure and, through it, honored the mother of God in heaven. The caziques replied that they liked this great *Tecleciguata*, and would very much like to keep it in their village. In their language, *Tecleciguata* means a noble woman. Cortés promised they could have it and ordered a pretty altar built. Our carpenters, Alonso Yañez and Alvaro Lopez, were also told to build a tall cross.

Cortés further asked the caziques why they had, for a third time, made war on us, when we had always tried to have peace with them. They said they regretted it, and we had already forgiven them; but it was at the urging of their brother, the cazique of Champoton, who had accused them of cowardice for not attacking us when we arrived with four ships and another commander, probably Grijalva. They were also advised by our Indian interpreter, who ran away from us at night, telling them not to leave us in peace since we were so few. Cortés asked that this interpreter be returned to us, but they claimed they did not know his whereabouts, saying he had fled after the battle. However, we knew this was not true, as we later learned the poor man had paid dearly for his advice—having been caught and sacrificed to their gods shortly after the battle.

When asked where they got their gold and trinkets, they answered: from the land towards the sunset, using the words *Culhua* and *Mexico*. Since at that time we didn’t know what these words meant, we paid them little mind. We asked our other interpreter, Francisco, who remained from Grijalva’s expedition, but he knew very little Tabasco, being fluent only in Culhuan (that is, Mexican). He told Cortés—with some gestures—that *Culhua* was far ahead of us, and kept repeating the word Mexico, Mexico. We still did not understand his meaning.

The next day, the cross and altar were raised and the image of the holy Virgin was placed upon it. We all knelt and prayed while Father Bartolomé de Olmedo celebrated Mass. The caziques and principal Indians attended. On this occasion, the village of Tabasco was solemnly named Santa Maria de la Vitoria. Father Olmedo and Aguilar also addressed the twenty women presented to us, teaching them about our holy religion: that they should renounce idolatry and sacrifices, for their gods were evil spirits, not true gods; they had been in error and should now worship Christ, our Lord. After this, the women were baptized, and the one I mentioned before was named Doña Marina. She was a noblewoman, daughter of a powerful cazique and a princess in her own right, which showed in her bearing. I will tell later how she came into our hands. I cannot recall the names of the other Indian women who were baptized; but these were the first converts to Christianity in New Spain, and were given to Cortés's chief officers. Doña Marina, the prettiest and most spirited of them, was given to Puertocarrero, a stout cavalier and cousin to the Earl of Medellin. Later, when he left for Spain, Cortés took Marina himself, and she bore him a son named Don Martin Cortés, who became Comptoir of Santiago.

We stayed five days in this place, partly to recover from our wounds and for those suffering from pain in the groin, who soon recovered here. Cortés spent these days in useful discussions with the caziques, telling them about our emperor—how noble and powerful he was, and how they would benefit by submitting to him; in the future, if they faced difficulties, they could turn to him for help, and he would come to their aid.

The caziques thanked him and declared themselves vassals of our great emperor, making them the first in New Spain to subject themselves to his majesty. Since the next day was Palm Sunday, Cortés told them to come early in the morning to pray before the holy mother of God and the cross. He also asked for six Indian carpenters to help ours make a cross on a high ceiba tree near the village of Cintla, where the Lord had given us a great victory. This cross was made to be very durable—the bark was cut so it would grow around and keep the shape. Finally, Cortés asked the Indians to bring all their canoes to help us re-embark, since we wanted to set sail on the holy day, as our pilots said our location was vulnerable to north winds.

Early the next day, the caziques and leading villagers appeared with their wives and children in the courtyard, where we had set the altar and cross, and assembled palm branches for our procession. Cortés, with the officers and all our men, rose and formed a grand procession. Both our priests, Father Bartolomé de Olmedo of the charitable brethren and Juan Díaz, wore their full vestments and celebrated Mass. We all prayed before the cross and kissed it, while the caziques and Indians looked on. After the ceremony, the principal Indians brought ten fowls, baked fish, and all kinds of greens, which we enjoyed. We then took our leave. Cortés repeatedly urged them to care for the image of the holy Virgin and the cross, and to keep the chapel in good order, so that salvation and blessings would come upon them.

We all embarked in the evening, and on Monday morning set sail with a good wind. We kept close to shore, heading toward San Juan de Ulua. As we navigated, those of us who had been here with Grijalva and knew the area pointed out to Cortés La Rambla—which the Indians call Aguajaluco—then the coast of Tonala or San Antonio, the great river Guacasualco, the snowy mountains (sierras nevadas), and those of San Martín. We also showed him the split rock that juts out into the sea and somewhat resembles a chair, the river Alvarado, and the river Banderas where we made the 16,000 pesos, Isla Blanca, Isla Verde, and Isla de Sacrificios, where, under Grijalva, we found the idols with recently sacrificed Indians.

Thus we soon reached San Juan de Ulua, arriving on Holy Thursday around noon. I’ll never forget how Alonso Hernández Puertocarrero, just about then, said to Cortés: “It seems to me we've now truly arrived in that country described in the song you gentlemen who have been here twice before sang:

‘Look at France, at its hills!
Look at Paris, the city,
Look at the waters of the Duero,
Where they flow into the sea!’

“I say, just look at this rich land and keep a strict command over us.” Cortés, understanding the meaning, replied, “If God just grants us the same good fortune in arms he gave to Roland the Paladin, then with your help and that of the other gentlemen, we shall achieve all else.” This was said just as Cortés was entering the river Alvarado, which is also mentioned by Gomara.

## CHAPTER XXXVII. {.chapter}
*How Doña Marina herself was a caziquess, and the daughter of distinguished personages; also a ruler over a people and several towns, and how she came to Tabasco.*

Before describing Motecusuma, his vast kingdom of Mexico, and its people, I must relate what I know about Doña Marina. She was born a ruler, for her parents held power over a township called Painala, which had several other towns under its authority, about twenty-four miles from Guacasualco. Her father died while she was young, and her mother remarried another young cazique. By him she had a son, who was much beloved, and for whom they intended all the inheritance after their deaths. To prevent the daughter from interfering in these plans, she was secretly sent one night to an Indian family in Xicalango, and a rumor was spread that she had died, which everyone believed, especially since a slave girl’s daughter happened to die at the same time. The Indians of Xicalango did not keep her, but instead gave her to people from Tabasco, who then presented her to Cortés. I knew her mother and half-brother personally; he had already grown up and governed the township with his mother. When both later converted to Christianity, the mother was named Martha and her son Lázaro. I know this story well: in 1523, when Mexico and other provinces had been subdued, and Cristóbal de Olid had rebelled in Higueras, Cortés went to Guacasualco and visited Marina's birthplace. Most of Guacasualco's people joined him; I was also among them. Since Doña Marina had provided immense help as interpreter during all the New Spain wars, at Tlascala, and at the siege of Mexico, Cortés always brought her along. During this journey, he married her to a noble from Orizava named Juan Xaramillo. Aranda of Tabasco, who was present as a witness, quickly made this known. These are the true details of the matter, not as Gomara relates. Marina had great influence in New Spain and could sway the Indians as she wished.

While in Guacasualco, Cortés summoned all the province’s caziques and urged them to adopt our Christian faith. On that occasion, Doña Marina's mother and brother appeared too. They recognized each other at once; the mother was filled with anxiety, fearing they had been called to be killed. Doña Marina reassured them, telling them not to grieve and forgiving them, for they hadn’t realized what they were doing when they sent her away to Xicalango. She said she believed God had guided everything for her good, leading her away from heathen errors and to Christianity.

Thus, she bore a son to Cortés, then married Juan Xaramillo. In my opinion, this is of greater importance than if she had become the ruler of all New Spain. She also gave gifts to her family when they returned home. All of this is strictly true, and I can swear to it. Gomara’s account is wholly inaccurate and includes several other points I won’t address here. This whole affair is much like the story of Joseph and his brothers in Egypt when they came under his power. Now, to explain how we first managed to communicate with Doña Marina: she spoke both the Guacasualco language (Mexican) and Tabasco. Aguilar, however, only knew Tabasco, the language of Yucatan. So, Marina would explain something to Aguilar, who then translated it into Spanish. She was a truly invaluable asset in conquering New Spain. Through her—under God’s protection—many of our accomplishments were possible. Without her, we never would have understood the Mexican language or overcome so many obstacles.

Let this suffice for Doña Marina; I will now continue with how we arrived at San Juan de Ulua.

## CHAPTER XXXVIII. {.chapter}
*How we arrive with our vessels in San Juan de Ulua, and what we did there.*

On Holy Thursday, in the year of our Lord 1519, we arrived with the whole fleet at the harbor of San Juan de Ulua. Alaminos, who remembered this place from Grijalva’s expedition, anchored our ships in a spot sheltered from the north wind. We had barely been there half an hour when we saw two large canoes, called pirogues, filled with Indians, heading straight for Cortés’s ship, which they recognized by his flag as the commander’s. They boarded without hesitation and asked for the *Tlatoan*, meaning "master" in their language. Doña Marina understood the question and indicated Cortés; they then turned to him, greeted him with ceremonial respect, and welcomed him. Their master, they said, a servant of the great Motecusuma, had sent them to find out who we were and what we wanted in his country. We only had to state what supplies we needed for our ships, and they would provide them.

Cortés thanked them through Aguilar and Doña Marina, gave them some blue glass beads, and offered them food and drink. After they ate, he told them we were only here wishing to meet them and trade, not to cause harm, and they need not fear our arrival. The ambassadors left, well satisfied. The next day, Good Friday, we unloaded our horses and cannons near some dunes along the coast. Our artilleryman Mesa set the cannons in an advantageous position, and we set up an altar where mass was immediately said. Cortés and the other chief officers had huts built from green branches; the rest of us built huts too, sleeping three to a hut, and the horses were well cared for. All of Good Friday was spent on this, and on Saturday, many more Indians arrived. They had been sent by a notable man, Quitlalpitoc, a governor under Motecusuma, later called Ovandillo when christened. They brought axes to improve Cortés’s hut, covering it with large cloths to block the growing heat. They also brought fowls, maize bread, ripe plums, and, if I remember rightly, some gold trinkets, all given to Cortés along with the assurance that their governor himself would come the next day with more supplies. Cortés gratefully accepted these gifts and gave them in exchange various trinkets for barter, which delighted them. On Easter day, the governor arrived as promised. His name was *Teuthlille*, a high official of the Mexican empire, accompanied by Quitlalpitoc. We later learned both governed the provinces of Cotastlan, Tustepec, Guazpaltepec, Tlatateteclo, and other recently conquered towns. A large group of Indians carried gifts—fowls and greens. Teuthlille sent the rest back, then came to Cortés, bowing deeply three times in Indian custom, repeating the bows to those of us nearby. Cortés welcomed them, embraced them, and asked them to wait while he prepared a formal reply. Meanwhile, he had the altar arranged as beautifully as possible. Francisco Bartolomé and Father Juan Díaz celebrated mass. Both governors and their chief attendants watched the ceremony before Cortés dined with them.

After dinner, using Aguilar and Doña Marina’s help, Cortés conversed with the Mexican officials and caziques, saying that we were Christians and subjects of the world’s greatest king, Emperor Charles, who had many great nobles among his vassals. He explained that we had come at the king’s command to visit their country, of which he and its powerful king had long heard. Cortés wished to become Motecusuma’s friend and had matters to discuss on behalf of the emperor, which the king would be pleased to hear. To establish good relations, they should tell him where their leader resided so Cortés could pay his respects and deliver his message. Teuthlille replied, rather stiffly, “Since you have just arrived, it would be best if you first accepted this present that we bring on behalf of my king, and then share your wishes with me.” He then took from a box various gold trinkets of fine and skilled workmanship, along with over twenty bundles of beautifully woven cotton and feathered cloths, and other things—they slip my memory after so many years—plus provisions of fowls, fruits, and dried fish. Cortés received these gladly, giving in return glass beads like gems and other Spanish trinkets, and asked that trading begin between the local people and us, as we wanted to exchange goods for gold. They agreed to do so.

Cortés then ordered a beautifully painted arm-chair, some pieces of precious stones wrapped in perfumed cotton, a necklace of imitation pearls, a scarlet cap, and a medal showing St. George on horseback slaying the dragon, to be given to Teuthlille. He said the chair was for their king Motecusuma to use when he received a visit from him, and the pearl string for him to wear at the same time—all gifts from our emperor to his king in friendship and respect. He now asked to know when and where he could pay his respects in person. Teuthlille accepted the gifts, replying that his king, as a great monarch, would also be delighted to learn of our emperor and would soon present the gifts to him and return with his answer.

Teuthlille brought clever painters, as was the custom in Mexico, who sketched Cortés’s likeness and clothing, the other officers, soldiers, our ships, horses, Doña Marina, Aguilar, even our dogs, cannons, and cannonballs—everything they saw belonging to us. These paintings would be shown to their king. To make an even greater impression, Cortés ordered the cannons loaded with powder for a loud shot, and told Alvarado and the other cavaliers to mount and gallop their horses with bells around their necks in full view of Motecusuma’s envoys. Cortés himself mounted and said, “It would be fine if we could gallop right across the dunes, but since we might sink in the sand, we'll ride two by two along the shore at low tide.” He put Alvarado in charge, whose brown mare was quick and spirited. The ambassadors saw the horsemanship and, as a final spectacle, Cortés brought them to watch the cannon fire. The weather was calm: when the cannon fired, the stone balls thundered along the dunes, echoing for a long time. The Indians were scared and ordered their painters to record this remarkable sight for Motecusuma.

One of our men wore a partly gilt helmet; Teuthlille, sharper than the rest, noted that it resembled the helmet of their ancestral god Huitzilopochtli. He added that Motecusuma would be thrilled to see it for himself. Cortés gave him the helmet, saying he’d like to know if their gold was like ours, and if they would fill the helmet with new gold dust for the emperor to see. Teuthlille then departed, promising to return soon, and Cortés gave him the friendliest of farewells.

We later heard that Teuthlille was not only a skilled official but also the fastest runner at Motecusuma’s court. He truly hurried to deliver news and gifts to his king. Motecusuma was astonished and pleased by all the reports—until he saw the helmet, which matched his idol’s, and then believed we must be the people foretold to conquer the land.

Gomara has shared many things incorrectly about these matters; I will not stop to contradict him, but carry on with my account.

## CHAPTER XXXIX. {.chapter}
*How Teuthlille makes his report to Motecusuma, and gives him our presents; as also what further took place in our camp.*

After Teuthlille left with Cortés’s gifts for Motecusuma, the other governor, Quitlalpitoc, stayed in our camp. He took up residence in a separate hut and instructed Indians to bake maize-bread and provide fowls, fruits, and fish from the province for the tables of Cortés and the officers. The rest of us soldiers, if we wanted full stomachs, had to catch shellfish and other sea creatures ourselves. Meanwhile, many Indians from the provinces governed by Motecusuma’s officials brought gold trinkets (though of little worth) and fowls to exchange for our beads and goods, with which we were well supplied, knowing their value from the Grijalva expedition.

After six or seven days had passed, Teuthlille returned in the morning with more than a hundred Indian porters, all heavily laden, accompanied by a great Mexican cazique who, in appearance and manner, much resembled Cortés—and for this resemblance was chosen by the king to join the delegation. When Teuthlille had earlier brought Cortés's picture to Motecusuma, the nobles at court immediately noticed he looked like a certain figure named Quintalbor. Quintalbor now came with Teuthlille; so we called one "Cortés of here," the other "Cortés of there." Here’s what the ambassadors did upon seeing Cortés: first, they touched the ground at his feet, then perfumed him and the other Spaniards with clay pans. Cortés welcomed them warmly and invited them to sit beside him. Quintalbor and Teuthlille spoke on behalf of their king. They told Cortés he was most welcome in their land, and after much discussion, began to lay out the presents on a mat covered with cotton cloths. The first was a gold plate, about the size of a wagon wheel, representing the sun—extraordinary workmanship, worth over 20,000 gold pesos, by those who later weighed it. The second was a larger plate of solid silver, shaped like the moon, with rays and other designs. The third was the helmet, filled with pure gold nuggets, worth about 3,000 pesos—more precious to us than if it had been ten times the value, for it proved the country’s gold mines. There were also thirty golden ducks, crafted perfectly like the real bird; figures of lions, tigers, dogs, and apes; ten chains and lockets of gold; a bow and twelve arrows; two five-palm-long staffs (like those of magistrates), all made of pure gold; boxes of beautiful green feathers blended with gold and silver, and fans also worked with them; every kind of animal crafted in gold, and an amazing number of other items I can no longer recall after so many years. There were over thirty bundles of cotton cloth, richly made and feathered. When Quintalbor and Teuthlille handed over these gifts, they asked Cortés to accept them in the spirit of friendship sent by their king and to distribute them among his men. Then they gave Motecusuma’s message: “He, Motecusuma, is delighted at the arrival of such brave men in his domains, as the reports and events at Tabasco show you to be. He longs to see our great emperor, whom he already knows of despite the distance, and will send him priceless stones. He will supply us with everything we need while we stay. But as for Cortés meeting him, we should give up that idea, as it isn’t needed and would be very difficult.”

Cortés thanked them warmly, gave each a couple of shirts of linen, blue beads, and other small gifts, and asked them to tell their king that our emperor would take great offense if, after traveling so far and crossing such vast seas, we left without fulfilling our wish to pay respects to Motecusuma. Cortés wanted to visit him to receive his instructions. The ambassadors replied they would report this, but that waiting on the king was unnecessary. Cortés then gave, out of our modest means, a Florentine-crafted gilded cup, with raised ornamentations, alongside the shirts and other gifts, all for Motecusuma, and asked them to deliver his message. The delegates departed, while Quitlalpitoc stayed as Motecusuma’s official, ordered to provide for us from the local districts.

## CHAPTER XL. {.chapter}
*How Cortés searches for another harbor and a suitable place to found a colony, and what else happened.*

After the Mexican ambassadors had once again taken their leave, Cortés ordered two ships to continue exploring the coast. He put Francisco de Montejo in command, instructing him to follow the same route that Grijalva had taken. Montejo was to sail for ten days searching for a good harbor and a convenient place to establish a settlement, since the sandy area where we were was uninhabitable due to swarms of gnats, and the nearby villages were too far away. Alaminos and El Manquillo, who were already familiar with these waters, served as pilots. Montejo departed and reached the mouth of the Rio Grande, near Panuco—as far as we had gone with Grijalva—but was unable to proceed further due to strong currents. He returned to San Juan de Ulúa, bringing no other news except that about thirty-six miles further up the coast, they had seen what appeared to be a fortified town called Quiahuitzlan, with a harbor that Alaminos judged safe from the north wind. Montejo spent ten or twelve days on this expedition. Quitlalpitoc, who had remained behind to provide us with food, soon stopped supplying us, which caused a great scarcity. Our cassava bread had also gone completely moldy and was infested with worms, so we were left with nothing to eat except shellfish we could gather ourselves. At first, the Indians had brought us gold and poultry for our goods, but now fewer of them came, and those who did were shy and reserved. We anxiously awaited the return of the two ambassadors from Mexico.

After several days, Teuthlille finally returned with a large group of Indians. They showed the same courtesy as before, perfuming Cortés and all of us, and then presented their gifts: ten bundles of mantles richly decorated with feathers, four *chalchihuitls* (a kind of valuable green stone which they prize more highly than we value emeralds), and various gold trinkets, which I heard were valued at 3,000 pesos. The great cazique Quintalbor had fallen ill on the way and had stayed behind. So Teuthlille and Quitlalpitoc alone carried out Motecuhzoma’s commission, assuring us that he had graciously accepted our present. Concerning the four chalchihuitls, they said they were to be given to our Emperor, as each was worth more than a load of gold. They also said there was no need to send any more messengers to Mexico, nor was there further mention of a personal meeting between their ruler and Cortés.

Although Cortés was displeased that Motecuhzoma had so bluntly declined a meeting, he thanked them politely and said to some of us standing by, “This Motecuhzoma must truly be a great and wealthy lord; still, if God wills it, one day we shall visit him in his palace!” “We only wish,” we soldiers replied, “that we could come to grips with him ourselves.”

This all happened around sunset, at the time of Ave Maria, and the bell summoned us to gather at the cross we had set up on a high sand dune. While we knelt before it, saying the Ave Maria, Teuthlille and Quitlalpitoc asked why we humbled ourselves so before the pole.

Cortés immediately turned to Bartolomé de Olmedo and said, “This is a good chance, Father, to explain our holy faith to these people through our interpreters.” Father Olmedo did so in a manner worthy of the greatest theologians. He began by explaining that we were Christians, and then clearly laid out the core beliefs of our faith; he then explained that their idols were useless, evil spirits who fled from the presence of the cross. It was upon such a cross, he said, that the Lord of heaven and earth suffered and died; we believed in Him alone and prayed to Him as the one true God, Jesus Christ, who suffered for the salvation of humanity, rose from the dead on the third day, and ascended to heaven, and would come again to judge the living and the dead. He continued with much that was edifying, which the Indians seemed to understand well and promised to share with their king.

Cortés went on to explain that one of the main reasons our Emperor had sent us was that they might abandon the religion of their accursed idols, end human sacrifices, and stop kidnapping. So he urged them to put up crosses like this one in their towns and temples, as well as images of the Holy Virgin with her glorious Son, so that God would bestow great blessings on them. There were many more words full of good intent, but I can't fully repeat them here, and will leave them unrecorded.

Our men now began trading with the Indians who had come with Teuthlille, taking in exchange various small gold objects for our sailors to use in fishing—which was the only way we could quiet our hunger. Cortés was aware of this and secretly found it amusing, but Diego Velázquez’s men pointed it out and argued that such trading ought not be allowed. What happened about this will be seen later.

## CHAPTER XLI. {.chapter}
*What happened due to our bartering for gold, and other events in our camp.*

As this gold trading continued with the Indians, Diego Velázquez’s supporters protested to Cortés, asking how he could allow it. They reminded him that Diego Velázquez had not sent him so the soldiers could pocket most of the gold. From now on, they insisted, only Cortés should be allowed to trade for gold, and everyone must declare exactly how much gold they possessed so the royal fifths could be collected. They also called for the appointment of a treasurer. Cortés acknowledged they were right, and let them choose a treasurer, who turned out to be Gonzalo Mexía. Once they had picked him, Cortés revealed his thoughts: “Just think, gentlemen, how our comrades are suffering since provisions have run out! So that they wouldn’t starve, I have looked the other way when it came to bartering, which has amounted to very little anyway. I hope, with God’s help, that things will improve soon. There are always two sides to every issue, and now that, as you wish, we have ordered that no further gold trading is allowed, we will have to figure out where to get provisions from now on.”

Gomara is mistaken when he claims that Cortés gave that order to make Motecuhzoma think we did not care about gold. Motecuhzoma knew exactly what we wanted from the time of our arrival under Grijalva by the Bandera stream; he could also easily tell from us asking for the helmet full of gold grains, and from our constant trading for gold. The Mexicans are not the sort to be so easily fooled.

As it happened, one morning the Indians who lived near our camp in huts and had been providing food and trading gold suddenly left in secret with Quitlalpitoc. We later learned that Motecuhzoma had ordered this, forbidding all contact with us out of devotion to his gods. These gods were named *Tezcatlipoca* and *Huitzilopochtli*—the former, god of the underworld, and the latter, god of war. To them, Motecuhzoma sacrificed young children daily to learn what to do about us. He intended to take us prisoner if we did not re-embark, to use some of us as teachers for children and sacrifice the rest. According to what we learned later, his gods advised him to ignore Cortés and to disregard all we said about the cross and the Virgin. This was also why his men had left so secretly.

With things in this state, we expected hostilities to break out at any time, and we were extremely vigilant. One day, while I was acting as sentry on the sandhills with another soldier, we spotted five Indians approaching along the shore. To avoid alarming the camp over something minor, we let them come closer. They seemed cheerful, greeted us in their manner, and by signs asked us to take them to our camp. I told my companion I would escort them, while he stayed at his post—for at the time, my legs were not as feeble as they are now, in my old age. When I presented them to Cortés, they performed deep bows and kept repeating the words “Lopelucio, Lopelucio,” which in Totonac means Lord, great God. Their dress and language were entirely different from the Mexicans Motecuhzoma had sent. They wore large blue speckled stones or thin gold plates in holes bored in their lower lips, and even larger ornaments in their ears. Neither Aguilar nor Doña Marina knew their language, but Doña Marina asked if any of them was a *Naëyavatos*, or interpreter. Two replied that they understood the Mexican language, and conversation began at once. They welcomed us, saying their leader wanted to know who we were and would be glad to help such powerful men as us. They would have visited us sooner if not for the Culhuas—the Mexicans (meaning, as much as, villains)—who had been with us. No doubt these people had heard of our fights at Tabasco and Potonchan; at the very least, they knew the Mexicans had left us secretly three days earlier. Cortés learned many things of great importance from them, especially about Motecuhzoma’s enemies and rivals. He therefore treated these people very kindly, giving them gifts and asking them to return to their chief and say that he would visit him in person soon. From this moment, we called these Indians only Lopelucios. However, we could not stay on these sand dunes, because of the swarms of large and small biting gnats (called chechenes, the worst of all), which made it impossible to sleep. Furthermore, our cassava bread was so moldy and worm-eaten it was inedible; several of our men who had Indian settlements in Cuba now wanted to go home, especially all the friends and followers of Velázquez. Observing this sentiment, Cortés ordered us to move to Quiahuitzlan, the place Montejo and Alaminos had discovered, where the ships would be sheltered from the north wind by the rocky heights.

As we prepared to leave, all of Diego Velázquez's supporters gathered to protest to Cortés. They asked him how he could plan a march without provisions; proceeding further by sea was impossible. Already, thirty-five of our men had died from wounds at Tabasco, illness, or hunger. The country was large, densely populated, and we could expect attacks at any time. They said it was most sensible to return to Cuba and report to Diego Velázquez about the gold we had acquired through trade, along with the gifts from Motecuhzoma—the golden sun, the silver moon, the helmet full of gold dust, and the other treasures, as previously described. To this Cortés replied that he did not consider it prudent to return without even having properly seen the country. So far, our luck had held and God had supported us everywhere. If we had lost some men, that was to be expected in such ventures. He said we should continue our exploration, and as for provisions, there was enough maize in the region to get by for now.

With this Cortés managed to calm Velázquez’s supporters, but only briefly; soon they were holding secret meetings and plotting to have us return to Cuba. How far they got with this will soon be seen.

## CHAPTER XLII. {.chapter}
*How we elected Hernando Cortés captain-general and chief justice until we received the emperor’s commands, and what else happened.*

I have already noted how Diego Velázquez’s friends and relatives joined forces to stop us moving forward and to bring about our return to Cuba. But Cortés and his allies acted just as swiftly and worked to have him appointed our captain-general. The main figures involved were Alonso Hernández Puertocarrero, Pedro de Alvarado and his four brothers Jorge, Gonzalo, Gómez, and Juan, Christóbal de Olid, Alonso de Ávila, Juan de Escalante, Francisco de Lugo, myself, and many other gentlemen and officers.

Francisco de Montejo soon realized what we were up to and kept a close watch on everything. I was drawn in as follows: at midnight, Puertocarrero, Escalante, and De Lugo—who were somewhat related to me, and from the same place—came to my quarters and said, “Bernal Díaz del Castillo, grab your arms and come with us. We are to join Cortés, who is making the rounds.” When we were some distance from my hut, they began, “We have something to discuss with you, sir, but you must keep it secret, especially from Velázquez’s supporters who mess with you. We feel that Cortés is not treating us properly. In Cuba he announced he was going to found a colony, but now it seems he had no authority to do so and was only to trade for gold and then return. If that happens, we are all ruined—Velázquez will simply keep the gold, as he has before. Think about it: this is your third such expedition, you have spent everything on them, risked your life, suffered wounds, and all for nothing. We cannot allow that. There are enough of us, all friends, and we must insist that Cortés found a settlement here in the king’s name. We also need to inform his majesty at once. Promise you will join us. We have decided to elect Cortés captain-general. It would be a great service to God and the king.”

I replied that I too was opposed to returning to Cuba, and was ready to give my consent to making Cortés captain-general and chief justice, until the emperor wrote to us on the subject. As this plan spread among us, Velázquez’s supporters—being greater in number—got wind of it and accused Cortés directly of plotting to form a colony and avoiding the reckoning due to the person who appointed him. Diego Velázquez would not be pleased: we should re-embark; all such intrigues were useless—founding a colony required more men, supplies, and everything. Cortés, without showing any irritation, agreed with them and immediately ordered everyone who had come with him to go on board by the next day.

When we confederates heard this, we declared Cortés was wrong to try and trick us. In Cuba, he had publicly said he would found a colony, and now it seemed it was all just for trade. We urged him, for God’s and the king’s sake, not to break his word but to establish a colony as we ought, for the service of God and his majesty. We could never come back again, as the locals would never let us land; but if a colony was founded, soldiers from all the islands would come to help us. Velázquez had misled us about having royal authority to found settlements; so we were determined to do so, inviting anyone who wished to return to Cuba to do as they pleased. At first Cortés refused, but after much pleading, he gave in, saying:

What you desire 
Is my wish.

He did, however, require that we make him chief justice and captain-general, with the further condition that a fifth of the gold (after the royal fifth) should go to him; for all of which, and the rest, the royal secretary Godoy was to draw up an official document. So we agreed to build a town, naming it *Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz*, since we had landed on this coast on Holy Thursday, and gone ashore on Good Friday. The name “Villa Rica” (Rich Town) was a reference to what Puertocarrero had told Cortés earlier: “He might look on these rich countries—he would know how to govern them,” meaning he wished Cortés to be captain-general.

After the founding ceremony, we appointed alcaldes and regidores: the chief alcaldes were Alonso Puertocarrero and Francisco de Montejo—the latter, appointed by Cortés deliberately because they didn’t get along. Listing all the regidores is unnecessary; their names will come up as the narrative proceeds. We also set up a pillory inside the town and a gallows outside. Pedro de Alvarado was made city-major; Christóbal de Olid, colonel; Juan de Escalante, alguacil-major; treasurer, Gonzalo Mexía; accountant, Alonso de Ávila; standard-bearer, a certain Corrar, since Villareal, who first held that post, had fallen out with Cortés over a Cuban Indian woman and had to give it up. Achoa of Biscay and Alonso Romero were also named as camp bailiffs.

The reader may wonder why I have not yet mentioned one of our principal men, Gonzalo de Sandoval, such a well-known officer, second only to Cortés and notably honored by the emperor himself. The reason is simply that Sandoval was still quite young then, and we didn’t value him and other brave officers as we later would, once we saw his true abilities, which drew boundless praise from both Cortés and every soldier—he was eventually considered equal to Cortés himself. Gomara also wrote a lot on these matters, but much of it is based on bad information. I can't let this go without remark, though I grant he writes beautifully and well—that is his strength.

## CHAPTER XLIII. {.chapter}
*How the partisans of Diego Velázquez refused to recognize the authority we had given Cortés, and what followed.*

Diego Velázquez’s supporters, seeing that we had named Cortés captain-general and appointed the other officers, were extremely upset and angry. They armed themselves in small groups and spoke out against Cortés and those who had made him captain-general, saying all of this should not have been done without the consent of all the officers and men. Velázquez, they insisted, had only authorized Cortés to trade with the natives. Their dissatisfaction grew so much that we feared the matter would go further and end in violence. Cortés then secretly asked Juan de Escalante to suggest that he present the written instructions he had received from Velázquez. This was done, and Cortés produced them from underneath his doublet, handing them to the royal secretary to be read aloud. Sure enough, they said, “After you have traded for as many precious items as possible, you are to return home.” The document was signed by Velázquez and countersigned by his private secretary Andreas de Duero. We asked Cortés to include these instructions with his new appointment, to be announced by a town crier, just as it had been done in Cuba, so that His Majesty would know the truth and that everything was being done for the crown’s interests. This was useful for us, as the Bishop of Burgos, Don Juan Rodríguez de Fonseca, was later shown to be badly informed about these events and worked only to do us harm. Still, Velázquez’s supporters would not accept this; since the election had occurred without their knowledge, they argued it was illegal, and said they were not obliged to obey Cortés, and intended to return to Cuba. Cortés replied he would not force anyone to stay, and would discharge anyone who wanted to leave, even if he had to stay behind alone. This silenced some, but Juan Velázquez de León (a close relative of Velázquez), Diego de Ordás, Escobar (whom we called “the page”), Pedro de Escudero, and others stayed defiant, finally refusing to obey Cortés at all. Things got to the point that, in the end, we had to take stronger measures—with our agreement, we seized the leading dissenters, put them in chains, and closely guarded them as if they were prisoners.

Gomara is again wrong about these events, and his account on this topic cannot be trusted.

## CHAPTER XLIV. {.chapter}
*How Pedro de Alvarado was ordered to make an excursion into the interior of the country, in order to procure maize and other provisions; and what further happened.*

It was now decided that Pedro de Alvarado would lead an expedition into the interior to explore the land, learn more about some townships we knew by name, and obtain maize and other supplies, which we desperately needed. For this, 100 men were chosen, including fifteen crossbowmen and six musketeers; more than half were supporters of Velasquez—the rest of us, whom Cortes trusted completely, stayed with him to prevent any conspiracies against him.

During this expedition, Alvarado visited some small towns controlled by a larger one called, in the Aculhua language, *Costatlan*.\[17\*\] This is the language of Mexico and Motecusuma; when we refer to Aculhua people, we always mean subjects of his empire. Alvarado found no inhabitants anywhere but discovered clear evidence in the temples that both boys and adults had very recently been sacrificed: the altars and walls were still splattered with fresh blood. The flint knives used to cut open victims’ chests and the large stones for sacrifices were still in place. Most of the bodies our men saw were missing arms or legs, which, according to the Indians, had been eaten. Our men were appalled by such brutality; but I won’t dwell further on it, as we found the same horrors in each district we visited in this country. Alvarado found these areas well supplied with food, but so deserted by the people that he could only find two Indians to help carry maize. Every soldier, therefore, had to carry a load of greens and chickens, and so the party returned to camp with plenty of provisions and without mishap. This was all the harm our men did, although they had many chances to do more—Cortes had strictly forbidden any unnecessary violence, so there would be no repeat of what happened on the island of Cozumel.

We were elated with the food; for when a person can satisfy their hunger, they forget half their hardships. Gomara mentions another expedition here, saying that Cortes himself took 400 men to explore the interior: but again, he was misinformed; there was no other such expedition except the one I’ve just mentioned. Meanwhile, Cortes was busy trying to win over Diego Velasquez’s followers: one received some of the gold we had collected—since with gold, anything can be accomplished—and another was silenced with generous promises. Soon, all were set free, except Juan Velasquez de Leon and Diego de Ordas, who were still chained up on a ship; but they, too, were soon released and became true friends to Cortes, as they later proved. Gold was indeed used freely on this occasion, for it was the only way to pacify them. Once greater unity was achieved, it was decided we would march for the town of Quiahuitzlan, which I have mentioned before. Our vessels were also to sail at the same time and enter the harbor about four miles from that place.

We marched along the coast, and along the way killed a large fish that had washed ashore. We came to a deep river, where the town of Vera Cruz now stands; we crossed using some old canoes we found there, and by ferryboats, though I swam across. On the opposite bank lay several small towns subject to a larger one called Sempoalla. This was the home of the five Indians who came to Cortes as ambassadors, whom we called *Lopelucios*. We found the idol-temples stained with blood, altar paraphernalia, perfuming and sacrificial items, many parrot feathers, and several bundles of paper stitched together, looking like Spanish linen. We didn’t see any Indians; never having seen people like us or any horses, they had all run off in fear, so we went to bed hungry. The next day we marched inland, eastward: naturally, we had no idea where we were going and simply turned into a beautiful meadow, where wild deer were grazing. Pedro de Alvarado chased one on his brown mare and managed to wound it with his lance, but it escaped over some hills.

Meanwhile, twelve Indians from the district where we were camping for the night showed up with chickens and maize-bread, which they said—through our interpreter—had been sent by their chief, who also invited us to visit his town, about a day’s march away. Cortes thanked them sincerely for their kindness, and we traveled on to a small village, where not long before, several people had been sacrificed. As I don’t want to disgust the reader with details about the many men and women we found murdered along every road and in every village, I’ll be silent on that, except to say that supper was provided for us in the small village we reached. Here we also learned that the road to Quiahuitzlan, which was situated on a hill, passed through Sempoalla, where we soon arrived.

## CHAPTER XLV. {.chapter}
*How we marched into Sempoalla, which at that period was a very considerable township, and what we did there.*

After we spent the night in the village where the twelve Indians had put us up, and made sure of the road we needed to take to Quiahuitzlan, we left very early in the morning for that place. Cortes sent six of the Indians ahead to inform Sempoalla’s chiefs that we were coming and to ask permission to visit. The other six Indians stayed with us as guides. The whole group marched forward in good order, our cannon and weapons ready for action if needed; sharpshooters always led the way—strong, active fellows, and as swift as the horses.

We were not more than three miles from Sempoalla when twenty Indians came to greet us on behalf of their chief. They carried pineapples, wonderfully fragrant and deep red, which they presented to Cortes and the other horsemen, adding that their ruler was waiting for us at his residence but, because of his obesity, couldn’t come out to meet us himself. Cortes thanked them warmly, and we continued. As we passed through the town’s houses, we were amazed—for we had not yet seen such a large place. Everything around looked like a beautiful garden, and the streets were full of people of both sexes. We gave thanks to God for leading us to such a country. The horsemen advanced far ahead and arrived at the main square and the dwellings set up for us. The walls had recently been freshly plastered with lime (which the Indians make very well), and as the sun was shining directly on them, one of our horsemen hurried up to Cortes to say that the walls were made of silver. Aguilar and Doña Marina immediately realized it was fresh lime, and this caused a lot of laughter. We never let the man forget it, often joking that anything white looked like silver to him.

When we got to our quarters, the stout chief came out into the courtyard to receive us. The man was extremely fat, so I will always refer to him as such. He showed Cortes great respect and perfumed him according to their custom, and then Cortes embraced him. After these greetings, we were shown to our rooms, which were comfortable and spacious enough for all of us. Food was brought out, including maize-bread and several baskets of plums, which were in season. As we were ravenous and hadn’t seen such abundance for a long time, some of us named the place Villariciosa (luxurious town), and others Sevilla. Cortes gave strict orders that the inhabitants were not to be bothered in the slightest, and that none of us should leave our quarters.

Once it was known that we had finished dining, the fat chief sent word to Cortes that he wished to visit, and he soon arrived with many distinguished men wearing heavy gold ornaments and richly embroidered cloaks. Cortes met them at the entrance to our quarters and greeted them warmly. After initial pleasantries, the fat chief gave him a present he had brought—gold trinkets and cotton cloth, though of little value. The chief kept repeating, “Lopelucio, Lopelucio, accept this kindly; if we had more to give, we would have brought it.”

Cortes had Doña Marina and Aguilar thank him for such kindness and added that the chief only had to let us know how we could serve him and his people in return. We were the vassals of the great emperor Charles, who ruled many kingdoms and had sent us to correct injustices and stop wrongdoers, and to command that human sacrifices must cease. Much was also said about our holy religion.

After the fat chief heard this, he sighed deeply and bitterly complained about Motecusuma and his officials. Not long ago, he’d been subdued by Motecusuma and robbed of all his gold. His rule was so harsh that he dared not move without orders; yet no one had the courage to oppose him because of his vast power and armies. Cortes told him that he would free him from this oppression, but for now he had to visit his *acales* (meaning ships in their language) and set up quarters in Quiahuitzlan; there, they could discuss the matter further. The fat chief said he was satisfied, and the next morning we left Sempoalla. Four hundred Indian porters, called tamenes in this area, were sent to accompany us. Each porter could carry a fifty-pound load for twenty miles. We were all delighted to have a man each to carry our gear, for until then, we had to carry our own knapsacks—the five or six Cuba Indians with us being of little help. Doña Marina and Aguilar told us that it was customary in this country for chiefs in peacetime to provide porters to anyone who needed them. From then on, we always asked for porters wherever we went. After the first day’s march, we spent the night at a small, uninhabited town not far from Quiahuitzlan, and the people of Sempoalla provided supper for us. Gomara claims Cortes stayed several days in Sempoalla and there formed the alliance and rebellion against Motecusuma. This, as well as his account of the number of Cuba Indians we’re said to have brought, is all incorrect; as I’ve said, we left Sempoalla the very next morning after arriving. I’ll explain later how and where the rebellion started. For now, we’ll enter Quiahuitzlan.

## CHAPTER XLVI. {.chapter}
*How we march into Quiahuitzlan, which was a town with fortifications, and were most friendly received.*

The next morning around ten o’clock, we reached the main town, Quiahuitzlan, built on the steep side of a rock—certainly difficult to attack if defended. We didn’t trust the apparent peace in the country and marched in strict order, very cautiously. Our troops were led by the cannon, so it would be ready if needed. Here, Alonso de Avila, a strict and proud man, poked a soldier named Alonso of Villanueva, who had only one arm, through the empty sleeve of his coat with his lance tip, because he had left the ranks. From then on, we called the man the one-armed of Villanueva. I may be accused of leaving the ranks myself by telling such stories, but I can’t deny it, so I’ll get back in line. We arrived in the middle of town without seeing anyone, which surprised us, as the people had left that very morning when they heard we were coming. On the topmost point of the fort, in front of the cues and large idol-houses, we met fifteen well-dressed Indians carrying perfuming pans. They approached Cortes, perfumed him and those nearby, welcomed us, and humbly apologized for not coming out to meet us sooner, admitting they’d been afraid of us and our horses and wanted to know who we were before coming. They told us to make ourselves comfortable, and assured us all the people would return to their homes that evening.

Cortes thanked them kindly for their welcome, and told them much about our holy religion and our great monarch, in our usual fashion. He also gave them some green glass beads and other trifles from Spain, and in return, they gave us fowls and maize-bread.

During these greetings, word came to Cortes that the fat chief of Sempoalla was approaching in a sedan chair, carried by many important Indians. When he arrived, he repeated his complaints against Motecusuma, joined by the chief of this town and other leaders. Their stories of the cruelties and oppression they endured were so moving that we couldn’t help but feel for them. When they were first conquered, they had already suffered greatly; after that, Motecusuma demanded many of their children each year, some of whom were sacrificed to the idols, the rest forced to work in his household or in the fields. His tax collectors would take any beautiful wives or daughters, only to satisfy their lusts. The Totonaques, who had more than thirty towns, faced the same abuses.

Cortes comforted them as best as he could through our interpreters. He promised and assured them he would end these abuses and that the king had sent him there specifically for this. They should take heart, and they would soon see what he would do for their welfare. This seemed to reassure them, but Cortes could not completely erase their fear of Motecusuma.

We soon saw proof of this; while we were talking with the chiefs, some Indians from the district reported that five Mexican tax collectors had just arrived. At this news, the chiefs turned pale with fear; they left Cortes to receive these unexpected guests, for whom a room was quickly arranged and dinner served. Large amounts of cacao, the main beverage of the Indians, were served to them. As the chief’s house was nearby, the Mexicans passed close to our quarters, but behaved so reservedly and with such arrogance that they didn’t speak to Cortes or any of us. They wore rich mantles and maltatas, which were fashionable at the time. Their hair was glossy, tied in a knot with sweet-smelling roses. Each carried a hooked stick and had an Indian slave to hold a fan and keep off the flies. They were accompanied by many local dignitaries from Totonac country, who escorted them to their quarters and stayed until they had finished dining. Then they called for the fat chief and other town chiefs, and scolded them severely for receiving us. They said the chiefs should have nothing to do with us—this was not their master Motecusuma’s wish—and that no one should have provided us with quarters or golden gifts without his order. They would pay dearly for this; for now, they had to produce twenty Indians with an equal number of women, to be sacrificed in order to appease the gods for the wrong done.

Cortes, noticing the visible anxiety, asked Doña Marina and Aguilar to explain what was happening and who the newcomers were. Marina understood it all and informed him; Cortes then summoned the fat chief and other township heads to ask who the newcomers were, and why they received such honors. They replied that these were Motecusuma’s tax collectors, who had rebuked them for receiving us without prior permission and now demanded twenty people, men and women, to sacrifice to the god of war to secure victory against us. They had also said Motecusuma would soon take us captive and enslave us.

Upon hearing this, Cortes comforted them and urged them to have courage, assuring them he would punish the Mexicans, as both he and his men were willing and able to do so.

## CHAPTER XLVII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes ordered the five Mexican tax-gatherers to be imprisoned, and no further obedience to be paid Motecusuma, nor tribute to be exacted; and of the rebellion which was now excited against this monarch.*

Cortes then told the chiefs they knew he had already said the emperor, our master, had commanded him to punish wrongdoers, and especially to stop kidnapping and human sacrifice.

Now that the Mexican tax collectors were demanding people for these sacrifices, he would have them imprisoned until Motecusuma understood why he had done so and became aware of the other abuses committed against them, their wives, and daughters.

The chiefs were terrified at the prospect of laying hands on Motecusuma’s tax collectors, but Cortes encouraged them for so long that they finally gathered the courage to seize them, fastening their necks with collars to long poles so they couldn’t move. One man who resisted was whipped as well.

Cortes then ordered the chiefs not to obey Motecusuma any longer or pay him tribute, and to spread these instructions to all allied and friendly tribes, letting him know if there were tax collectors in other areas, so he could order their arrest as well.

News of this spread rapidly, as the fat chief sent out messengers, while leaders who had come with the tax collectors hurried back to their towns to share the astonishing news. When the Indians heard of these events, they said such great things could not have been done by men, but only by *teules*, which can mean gods or demons—here, meaning gods; and I ask the reader to remember that whenever I mention teules regarding us, it refers to us.

All the chiefs thought we should kill the prisoners, so they couldn’t return to Mexico and report. Cortes, however, strictly forbade this, and placed a strong guard over them. Around midnight, he summoned the sentinels and told them: “Pay close attention to what I say. Take two of the most active prisoners and quietly bring them to my quarters. Do this so that the Indians do not notice.”

When the two men were brought before Cortes, he pretended not to know they were Mexicans and asked, through interpreters, why they’d been seized. They replied that the chiefs of Sempoalla and this place had done it secretly with our cooperation. Cortes assured them he knew nothing about the matter and regretted it had happened. He had food brought for them, treated them well, and asked them to inform Motecusuma that we were his sincere friends and loyal servants. To prevent further harm, they would be released, and he would scold the chiefs who had imprisoned them. He also promised to free their three companions and advised them to leave quickly to avoid being recaptured and killed. The two men were grateful for their freedom but feared passing through enemy territory. Cortes ordered six sailors to take them by boat twelve miles down the coast, beyond Sempoallan land. All this was carried out quietly, and when morning came, the chiefs were surprised to find only three prisoners left. They insisted that these three should be killed, but Cortes pretended to be furious about the others’ escape and said he would keep the rest under his own guard. He brought chains from the ships, put them on the remaining prisoners, and took them aboard, where their chains were removed and they were treated kindly, promised they would soon be returned to Mexico.

The chiefs of Sempoalla, Quiahuitzlan, and the Totonac country now gathered and discussed their desperate situation: they were certain Motecusuma would soon send an army in response to the capture of his tax collectors, leading to their destruction.

But Cortes, smiling kindly, assured them that he and his men would protect them, and anyone who tried to harm them would pay with his life. The chiefs pledged to unite all their forces with ours against Motecusuma and his allies. On this occasion, Diego de Godoy wrote up a formal declaration of their allegiance to the emperor, and word was sent to the towns of the province. With no more talk of tribute and the disappearance of tax collectors, these people were almost delirious with joy at having thrown off the Mexican yoke.

## CHAPTER XLVIII. {.chapter}
How we resolved to found Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz and build a fortress on the low meadows near some salt springs and the harbor where our ships were anchored; and what happened next.

After we had formed an alliance with the thirty towns of the Totonac mountains, which had revolted from Motecusuma and willingly submitted to our king, we wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation and founded Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. The site we chose was about two miles from the fortress of Quiahuitzlan, in the valley below. First, we marked out the land for the church, market, warehouses, and other public buildings for the town. We also set aside part of the land for a fortress, and the energy with which the walls were raised, the carpentry finished, the turrets and loopholes constructed with their parapets, was unmatched. Cortés himself led by example, carrying a basket of stones and earth on his shoulders and working on the foundations. The caziques and all of us followed suit, and every stage of the project went forward with equal dedication. Some mixed mortar, fetched water, burned lime, baked bricks and tiles; others cooked meals and cut wood. The blacksmiths hammered out nails and other ironwork. In short, from the highest to the lowest, everyone worked tirelessly, while the Indians provided us with such effective assistance that the church and other buildings were soon completely finished, and the fortress nearly so.

Meanwhile, Motecusuma received news in Mexico that his tax collectors had been imprisoned by our allies, that these allies had renounced their loyalty to him, and that all the Totonac towns had revolted. He was outraged with Cortés and all of us, and ordered one of his powerful chiefs to go to war against the rebellious tribes and destroy them completely. As for us, he intended to march against us in person at the head of an enormous army with many generals. While preparations were underway, the two prisoners whom Cortés had freed arrived in Mexico. When Motecusuma learned that Cortés had set them free and had personally sent them to Mexico on a mission to offer their services to their king, the Almighty softened his heart, and he decided to inquire about our intentions. To that end, he sent two of his young nephews, along with four older men who were distinguished caziques, to our quarters, bringing with them a gift of gold and cotton cloth. These men were instructed to thank Cortés for freeing his two tax collectors, but also to strongly complain about the rebellious tribes, who had dared to revolt because we took them under our protection, and now refused further obedience and tribute. For the time being, he was only staying his hand from destroying them because of us, since we lived among them; for in us, he recognized the people whose arrival had been foretold by his ancestors, and who were of the same lineage as himself. However, the rebels would not rejoice long in their treachery, and he would know how to handle them at some future time.

Cortés received the messengers warmly and accepted their present, which was worth over 2,000 pesos. He assured them that he and all of us were well-disposed and ready to serve Motecusuma, and that it was with this in mind that we had taken the three other tax collectors under our protection, who were now immediately brought from our ships, clothed, and handed over to the ambassadors. Neither did Cortés withhold the complaints he had against Motecusuma, for he told them that Quitlalpitoc, his governor, had spent a night in our quarters and had been rude enough not to visit him. He was convinced such behavior had not been ordered by Motecusuma, but was the result of the man's natural rudeness. Respectful treatment was highly valued among us, and for that reason alone we visited the towns where we now were. Motecusuma, therefore, ought to forgive the people for our sake. As for their complaints about the refusal to pay tribute, it could hardly be expected that they would serve two masters, since during our stay they had sworn allegiance to our emperor. As for the rest, he and his companions would soon visit Motecusuma himself, when these matters could be resolved amiably.

After these and other statements, Cortés gave both these distinguished young men and their four venerable companions, who were highly important men, blue and green colored beads, showing them the utmost respect.

As the meadows in the area were well suited for cavalry exercise, Cortés asked Alvarado, who had an excellent brown mare, and our other good horsemen, to perform maneuvers, which completely won over these messengers, who returned to Mexico highly satisfied. At this time, Cortés lost his horse; so Ortiz, the musician, and Bartolome Garcia, the mountaineer, gave him their dark brown horse, which was one of the best in the whole group.

Our mountain allies and the people of Sempoalla had been greatly afraid of Motecusuma, expecting that he would invade their land with a mighty army to destroy them immediately. But when they saw that even his relatives arrived bearing gifts and behaved so submissively before Cortés, they began to fear us more and more, and the caziques said to each other that we must be *teules*, since even Motecusuma himself feared us and sent us presents. If they had already held us in high regard, it was now even greater because of these unexpected events.

## CHAPTER XLIX. {.chapter}
*How the fat cazique and other chiefs of the land came to Cortés to complain that a garrison of Mexicans had been stationed in the strong fortress of Tzinpantzinco, committing many depredations; and what happened next.*

After the Mexican messengers had left, the fat cazique and several other notable allies of ours came to Cortés and asked him to go to a town called Tzinpantzinco, two days' journey, or about thirty-two to thirty-six miles from Sempoalla. They said that a number of Mexican warriors had gathered there, destroying their fields and plantations, attacking their subjects, and causing all kinds of trouble. Cortés was deeply sympathetic, but wasn't sure how to respond, as he had promised them every assistance. He therefore asked them to withdraw for a while so he could consider the matter.

After reflecting for a moment, he turned to us, who were standing nearby, and said with a smile: “It seems, gentlemen, that we are already considered great heroes here; in fact, after what happened with the tax collectors, these people must see us as gods, or beings like their idols. Now, I think it's best to reinforce that belief; and so that they think even one of us is enough to drive the Mexicans from Tzinpantzinco fortress, we'll send old Heredia of Biscay. His fierce looks, huge beard, scarred face, squinting eyes, and lame leg make him perfect for the job, and besides that, he's a musketeer.”

Cortés then summoned the man and said to him: “You must go with the caziques to the river about a mile from here. When you arrive, pretend to be thirsty and say you want to wash your hands; then fire your musket. That will be the signal for me to send someone after you, who will, in my name, ask you to return. All of this is to make the Indians think we are gods, and since your face is not the most pleasant, I trust they will consider you some sort of idol.”

Heredia, who had served for years in Italy, knew well how to play his part and gladly agreed to the plan. Cortés then called the fat cazique and the other chief Indians, those who expected aid from us, back into his presence and said: “I am sending my brother with you to drive the Mexicans out of the fortress, and to bring to me as prisoners those he does not kill.”

When the caziques heard this, they were utterly astonished, unsure if Cortés was serious; but, seeing that he did not change expression, they became convinced he meant it, and set off with Heredia. When he reached the mountains, he loaded his musket and fired it into the air, so everyone in the district would hear it. The caziques themselves sent word to different towns that they had a *teule* with them and were marching to Tzinpantzinco to kill the Mexicans.

I mention this amusing story so the reader can see the clever tricks Cortés used to fool the Indians. Of course, when Heredia reached the river, he was recalled; the caziques came back with him, and Cortés told them he had other plans. His friendship for them was so great, he would accompany them himself with some of his brothers, in order to inspect the country and the fortress. All they needed to do was provide four hundred porters for the cannon and return to us early the next morning. This was arranged, and as soon as daylight broke, we set out, four hundred strong, with fourteen horsemen and enough matchlocks and arquebuses.

On this occasion, some of Diego Velasquez’s supporters began complaining again, declaring that Cortés could continue with those who wished, but as for them, they were determined to return to Cuba.

How this matter ended will be seen in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER L. {.chapter}
*How some of Diego Velasquez’s men refused to take any further part in our activities, and declared their intention to return to Cuba, seeing that Cortés was fully determined to found a colony and had already begun to pacify the inhabitants.*

The next morning, when our junior officers went around to our different quarters and called on the men to march with their arms and horses, Velasquez’s followers insolently replied that they would take no further part in any expedition, but wished to go home to their estates in Cuba. They felt they had already suffered enough by letting themselves be persuaded by Cortés in the first place; now, they said, they wanted him to keep the promise he made in the camp on the downs—to release anyone who wished to return to Cuba, and to provide a ship and supplies.

Seven men now declared they were absolutely determined to return home. Cortés commanded they be brought before him and asked, “Why do you wish to betray me like this?” They replied angrily, “We can't help but be surprised that you would think of founding a colony with so few men in a land full of towns with thousands of inhabitants. We are sick, tired of wandering, and want to return to our homes in Cuba; you ought to release us as promised.”

To this, Cortés replied, as mildly as possible, that he had indeed made such a promise; but they would be failing their duty to desert their captain when he was planning an expedition. Nevertheless, he ordered them to embark immediately, providing them with a ship, cassava bread, a bottle of oil, vegetables, and other supplies as needed for a long voyage. One of these men, a certain Moron of Delbayamo, had a well-trained horse, and traded it quite profitably to Juan Ruano in exchange for valuable property Ruano owned in Cuba.

As these men were about to set sail, the rest of our forces, led by the alcaldes and regidores of Vera Cruz, went to Cortés to request that he issue an order that no one should leave the country—an order which both the service of God and his majesty demanded. They declared that anyone thinking of such a thing deserved death, considering we were surrounded by so many enemies, and that such men were nothing less than deserters abandoning their commander and the standard in the thick of battle and at the moment of greatest danger. Still, Cortés acted as if he meant to release the malcontents, but soon after countermanded the order. All they got was contempt and disgrace, while Moron, on top of that, lost his horse, which Juan Ruano had no intention of returning. Upon this, Cortés ordered our march, and we arrived at Tzinpantzinco without incident.

## CHAPTER LI. {.chapter}
*What happened to us at Tzinpantzinco, and how, on our return to Sempoalla, we destroyed all the idols; and other matters.*

On the first day, we marched twenty miles and arrived at Sempoalla, where we spent the night. Here, 2,000 Indian warriors, organized into four groups, were ready to join us. On the second day, at dusk, we reached the plantations in front of Tzinpantzinco and took the steep, winding road leading into the fortress. The inhabitants must have been warned of our approach, for eight distinguished Indians and several priests (papas) immediately came out, signaling peace. With tears in their eyes, they asked Cortes why we intended to kill them when they had done nothing against us. Our reputation was that we brought good wherever we went and that we stood against the oppression of nations; that was why we had imprisoned Motecusuma’s tax collectors. There was ancient enmity between the Sempoallans accompanying us and the people of Tzinpantzinco over territory and boundaries, and the Sempoallans sought only to plunder and destroy their rivals under our protection. There was usually a Mexican garrison in their town, but it had left when they heard we had arrested the tax collectors. The people of Tzinpantzinco pleaded with us not to go further and to show them mercy.

When Cortes heard these pleas, translated by our interpreters, he immediately ordered Alvarado and Christobal de Oli, along with those of us closest to him, to run to the Sempoallans and stop them from advancing. Despite our haste, we found them already looting the plantations. This made Cortes extremely angry. He summoned the Sempoallan chiefs and harshly rebuked them for their actions. He ordered them, under severe threats, to return all the plunder and to stay out of the town. He accused them of fabricating stories just to plunder their neighbors and sacrifice them under our protection, saying their actions deserved death. Our emperor had not sent us to this land to commit such crimes. He warned them never to do such a thing again, or none of them would be spared.

After this stern warning, the Sempoallan chiefs brought out the prisoners and turkey-fowls they had taken. Cortes ordered the prisoners released and the birds returned to their owners. He then angrily ordered the Sempoallans back to their camp for the night.

The caziques and priests of Tzinpantzinco, along with other locals, saw this act of justice and witnessed Cortes’s goodwill and just behavior. This made them listen all the more attentively to what he told them about our holy religion—abolishing human sacrifices and kidnapping, ending other offenses and abominations, and adopting measures beneficial for their well-being. They responded positively, gathered people from surrounding areas, and formally declared themselves vassals of our emperor. Many complaints were also voiced about Motecusuma’s oppression, echoing what we’d heard from the Sempoallans and Quiahuitzlans.

Early the next morning, Cortes summoned the Sempoallan chiefs. The night, spent in fear and anxiety over his anger and their attempted deception, had unsettled them. Cortes managed a reconciliation and established lasting peace between them and the Tzinpantzinco people. We then marched back to Sempoalla, taking a different route through two towns friendly to the Tzinpantzinco people, where we stopped to rest, tired and overheated. In one town, a certain Mora, from Ciudad Rodrigo, took fowls from an Indian hut. Cortes was so angry that he ordered a rope around the man’s neck and would have hanged him if Alvarado hadn’t cut the rope with his sword, thus saving the terrified man’s life.

I mention this event to show the reader how exemplary Cortes’s discipline was, and the necessity of strictness in such situations. Mora later died in a battle on a mountain in the province of Guatemala. After we left those towns in peace, we found the fat cazique and Sempoallan chiefs waiting for us in huts they’d built, with various provisions they’d brought along. Despite being Indians, they recognized justice as good and holy, and saw that Cortes’s claim to have come to end oppression matched his conduct in Tzinpantzinco. They became even more allied with us. We spent the night in these huts and returned the next morning, together with our Indian friends, to Sempoalla. The Sempoallans now wished only that we would never leave their land, fearing that Motecusuma might send an army against them. They proposed that since we now shared such a strong alliance and were as brothers, we should take wives from among their daughters and kin, so our descendants would share the same blood. To seal this relationship, they immediately presented us with eight women, all daughters of caziques. One, the niece of the fat cazique, was given to Cortes, and Puertocarrero received the daughter of another powerful cazique, called Cuesco. All these women were dressed in the local fashion, wearing fine shifts, gold chains, gold earrings, and attended by other Indian women.

When the fat cazique presented them, he addressed Cortes: “*Tecle*,” meaning ‘sir’ in their language, “these seven women are for your chief officers, and my niece, who rules her own country and people, is meant for you.” Cortes gladly accepted the women, thanked the chiefs, and said these gifts would serve as bonds of fraternity between us. But he insisted they must also abandon their idols and cease human sacrifice. He was deeply troubled by their dreadful religious practices; from now on, he would not tolerate such abominations, human sacrifice, or unnatural acts. Only if they embraced Christianity could a true brotherhood exist. Above all, the women would need to convert before we could marry them. He also demanded that unnatural crimes cease, and young men no longer dress as women to earn a living by such evils. Indeed, hardly a day passed without them sacrificing three, four, or even five Indians, tearing out their hearts for the idols and smearing the blood on the temple walls. The arms and legs of the victims were then cut off and eaten, just as we might buy and consume meat from a butcher. I even believe human flesh was sold, already cut up, in their *tiangues* (markets).

“All these atrocities,” Cortes added, “must stop at once; then, and only then, could our union be genuine, and only then could we help make them lords of new lands.” In response, the chiefs, priests, and leading men answered that it was impossible to abandon their idols or human sacrifice, as all good things came from their gods: their crops grew and all necessities were provided because of them. As for the other offenses, they agreed to try to end them.

This answer greatly displeased Cortes and all of us. We could no longer stand their barbarity and depraved lifestyle. Cortes spoke at length to us, teaching many holy and useful lessons. He said, “There is nothing we could do more beneficial to this people and more to God’s glory than to abolish their idolatry and human sacrifice. True, the people might rise up against us if we destroyed their idols, but we must make the attempt, even if it cost us our lives.”

With that, we armed ourselves as if for battle, and Cortes told the chiefs that we were going out to destroy their idols. When the fat cazique heard, he ordered the others to call up warriors for their defense. As we started up the tall temple—how many steps I don’t recall—he and the other chiefs became enraged. They rushed at Cortes, shouting, “Why are you going to destroy our gods? We will not allow such an insult; it will mean our destruction and yours.”

Cortes lost patience and replied, “I have told you repeatedly not to sacrifice to those monsters, who are nothing more than deceivers and liars. So I must take matters into my own hands and cast them down. Since you refuse to listen to my counsel, I must treat your gods as my worst enemies, not friends. I know well what your chiefs and armed men plan; my patience is gone, and any resistance will cost you your lives.”

Doña Marina translated these threats clearly for the Indians, reminding them about Motecusuma’s army, which could come at any moment. They shifted the matter, saying, “We are not worthy to lay hands on our gods. If you must do it, we suppose you can, but we will not consent.”

Just as they finished, more than fifty of us climbed the temple steps. We pulled down the idols from their pedestals, smashed them, and threw the pieces down the stairs. Some idols were shaped like fierce dragons, as big as calves; others were part human; some looked like large dogs, but all were terrifying.

When the chiefs and priests saw these idols in ruins, they wailed, covered their faces, and begged the idols’ forgiveness in the Totonaque language, since they could not protect them against us, nor dared attack us, fearing Motecusuma. But their warriors did start firing arrows at us. Seeing this, we seized the fat cazique, six priests, and several chiefs. Cortes declared that if the attack didn't stop at once, all their lives would be forfeit. The fat cazique ordered his men to cease, and once calm was somewhat restored, negotiations for peace began, which I'll explain shortly.

I should add that our march to Tzinpantzinco was Cortes’s first foray inland in New Spain, and it brought us great benefits. The historian Gomara again tells his tall tales of the many thousands we supposedly killed at Tzinpantzinco, but the curious reader can see from my story how little his account can be trusted, however fine his writing style.

## CHAPTER LII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes erects an altar, and sets up the image of the blessed Virgin with a cross; after which mass was said, and the eight Indian women were baptized.*

After peace was restored with the chiefs and priests, Cortes told them to carry off and burn the fragments of the idols we had destroyed. Six priests carried out this order, taking the pieces into a special house and burning them. Their dress consisted of a long black cloak and white sleeveless cassock reaching the feet, and a kind of hood—some large, some small. Their clothes were caked with blood from head to foot, and they reeked horribly of sulfur and rotting flesh. We learned later that these priests were sons of prominent citizens. They were forbidden to marry but were given over to unnatural acts, and fasted on certain days. Generally, I never saw them eat anything but the seeds of the cotton tree; they may have eaten other foods, but I do not know.

When the idols were gone, Cortes said all manner of uplifting things to the Indians through our interpreters. “Now,” he said, “we could truly be brothers, and we would lend them powerful help against Motecusuma and the Mexicans. He had already informed Motecusuma that he was no longer to wage war on them or demand tribute. Instead of their idols, he would give them the image of the blessed Virgin, the mother of Jesus Christ, whom we worship and who intercedes for us in heaven.”

The Indians listened attentively to all Cortes explained about our religion. All the masons in town were put to work bringing chalk, which was plentiful there, to clean the blood from the temple walls and plaster them over. By the next day, the work was done and an altar was erected, covered in cotton cloth. The Indians were also asked to bring their best and most fragrant roses, along with small tree branches. They wove a garland, to be continually renewed, so the place would remain pure and undefiled. Four priests were chosen by Cortes to tend to this altar—but first, their long, bristly hair was shorn, and their filthy cloaks removed, replaced with clean white ones, which they were to keep spotless from then on. To supervise them, Cortes appointed Juan de Torres, an old, lame invalid from Cordova, to live near the altar as an anchorite. The carpenters made a cross, which we set up on an elevated platform of plastered lime.

The next morning, Father Olmedo said mass. It was also decided that from then on, the local copal would be used for incense in place of our usual kind, and the people were taught to make candles from the local wax, which they had never used before; these candles would always burn before the altar. The leading chiefs of the area attended mass, but the eight Indian women—who, until then, had stayed with their families—were the main focus. These women were now baptized after a heartfelt sermon. The niece of the fat cazique, who was quite an unattractive woman, was named Doña Catalina and given to Cortes, who received her graciously. The daughter of Cuesco, on the other hand, was very beautiful for an Indian woman, and received the name Doña Francisca, and was given to Puertocarrero. The six others, whose names I’ve forgotten, were given to other soldiers.

When mass and the baptisms were done, the chiefs and dignitaries took their leave, and from then on the best relations existed between us, especially since Cortes had accepted their daughter. We returned to our new town of Vera Cruz amid joyful displays of friendship—soon enough, I will tell what happened there.

The good reader may be certain that nothing of importance happened at Sempoalla beyond what I have told. In this, Gomara and other historians are completely mistaken.

## CHAPTER LIII. {.chapter}
*How we arrived in Vera Cruz, and what happened there.*

We arrived at Vera Cruz with the most prominent people from Sempoalla on the very day that a ship from Cuba docked there. The ship’s captain was Francisco de Saucedo, but we always called him “the gallant,” because he was a great dandy, always fussing over his appearance. It was said he had once been butler to the Admiral of Castile, and he was born in Medina de Rioseco. With him were ten soldiers and Luis Marin, a distinguished officer who later became one of our chief commanders in the Mexican campaigns. Both brought horses: one a stallion, the other a mare. They brought news that Diego Velasquez had been granted authority by the Spanish Crown to trade and found colonies wherever he wished, and had been appointed adelantado (governor) of Cuba. This especially pleased his supporters.

Building the fortress had kept us busy for a long time, and now it was so far along that we could start the woodwork. We began to grow restless from idleness. Most of us approached Cortes, saying that after three months in this country, it was time we found out for ourselves how much truth was in all the talk of Motecusuma’s power. We would gladly risk our lives to see it. But first, we should prove our humble loyalty to his majesty, our emperor, by sending him a full account of all that had happened since we left Cuba. We also suggested that all the gold we had acquired and the gifts sent by Motecusuma should be sent to the emperor.

Cortes replied that these ideas matched his own, and that he had already talked about it with several of the gentlemen. His one hesitation was that if each man took his share of the gold, there would be too little left to be a worthy gift for his majesty. For that reason, he asked Diego de Ordas and Francisco de Montejo—who were skilled at such business—to talk to those likely to insist on their share. They spoke to everyone, explaining that since we wished to send the emperor a valuable present as our first offering, each man should give up his share of the gold collected so far. Most officers and soldiers had already signed to do so, but everyone was free to choose. The paper was there for anyone to sign.

Everyone, without exception, put their name to the document, and agents were appointed to go to Spain. These were Alonso Puertocarrero and Francisco de Montejo, to whom Cortes had already given more than two thousand pesos. The best ship in the squadron was chosen for them, fully supplied and crewed by fifteen sailors. Two pilots—the expert Anton de Alaminos (famous for knowing the Bahama channel, being the first to try that route) and another—were in charge of the ship. Then all of us jointly wrote a report of our adventures for his majesty, telling everything that had happened. Cortes, as he told us, also wrote a lengthy and detailed narrative, though he did not let us read it. The report was signed by all the authorities of the new town and ten soldiers, including myself. There was also another report drawn up by all the officers and soldiers, the contents of which I'll explain in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER LIV. {.chapter}
*Concerning the account of our adventures, with the letter we sent to His Majesty the Emperor, through Puertocarrero and Montejo, the letter being attested by some officers and soldiers.*

This account rightly began with the distinguished marks of respect owed to our great emperor and master. Then followed a complete account of our expedition, from the day we left Cuba up to our arrival on the coast of Mexico, and the date the account was drafted. We did not fail to state that we had only agreed to join the expedition on the promise that we were to found a colony, and how Diego Velasquez had given Cortes secret instructions to confine himself solely to trade and barter. Cortes, in line with this, had indeed wished to return to Cuba with the gold we had acquired; but we had compelled him to remain and found a colony, for which purpose we had elected him captain-general and chief justice, until His Majesty’s further pleasure should be known. We had also promised him a fifth part of all the gold remaining after deducting His Majesty’s fifth. We then named Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba as the first discoverer of this country, followed by the expedition under Juan de Grijalva; our landing on Cozumel Island, the fortunate discovery of Geronimo de Aguilar, and other events. We described our negotiations with the great Motecusuma, mentioning his power and wealth, illustrated by the items he sent us for the Emperor—such as the sun of gold, the moon of silver, the casque of gold dust from the mines, and other articles of solid and crafted gold, all as small proofs of his riches.

After this we spoke about the expanse of the country, its population, the arts, customs, and religion of the inhabitants—of whom we sent four as an example, whom we had liberated from a wooden cage in Sempoalla, where they were being fattened for a sacrificial feast. We then added facts about ourselves: that we were 450 armed men surrounded by many warlike tribes; that our expedition had only the aim of serving God and His Majesty; and that, given our situation, much depended on having a leader familiar with the country, in whom we could place full trust. We humbly begged His Majesty not to grant command of this country to any of his officers; that due to its richness and size, it deserved a ruler of royal blood or another great personage. We all feared that Archbishop Don Rodriguez de Fonseca, entrusted by His Majesty with Indian affairs, had already selected for the command one of his own protégés, namely Diego Velasquez, then viceroy of Cuba; a favor entirely due to the valuable gifts Velasquez sent the Bishop, consisting of the best townships in the imperial domains wherever gold was found. As His Majesty’s most humble and loyal servants, we could not fail to report this to his imperial attention. We resolved to wait until our agents could prostrate themselves at His Majesty’s feet to deliver our letters, and that, whatever his reply, we would honor his commands in the utmost humility. If, in the meantime, the Archbishop Fonseca should send anyone to assume command, we would not obey him until His Majesty was informed, wherever he might be. For now, we asked His Majesty to grant command to Cortes. This request was accompanied by lofty praise for Cortes—highlighting his loyalty and devotion to His Majesty, raising him to the skies. The letter, drawn up with great care and divided into chapters, was signed by all officers and soldiers supporting Cortes. We also prudently kept other copies.

Once the letter was finished, Cortes wanted to read it, and when he saw how faithfully it recounted events and how highly he was praised, he was delighted, thanked us warmly, and promised us great rewards. However, he observed that it would be better to make no mention of the fifth of the gold we had promised him, and to omit the names of the first discoverers of the country. Indeed, we later learned that Cortes, in his own report, never mentioned Cordoba or Grijalva, reserving all the honor and credit for himself.

Nevertheless, there were those among us who countered Cortes’s objections, insisting that it was our duty to narrate everything to His Majesty exactly as it happened.

Our agents then took the letters, bound by a promise not to stop at the Havannah under any circumstances, nor enter the harbor of El Marien, where Francisco de Montejo had possessions. This was done to keep Velasquez uninformed of our actions. They promised this, but, as will be seen, failed to keep their word.

Everything being ready for their departure, Father Olmedo celebrated mass, and we commended them to the guidance and protection of the Holy Spirit. On July 26, 1519, they set sail from San Juan de Ulua, and reached the Havannah soon after. There, Francisco de Montejo would not let our chief pilot Alaminos rest, persuading him to sail along the coast toward Montejo’s settlement, claiming he would take on a fresh supply of cassava bread and bacon. Puertocarrero was greatly displeased with this, but the landing was made. That night, a sailor secretly swam ashore and delivered letters to Diego Velasquez from his supporters, detailing everything that had happened. We later learned Montejo himself had sent this man, who also spread the news along his route. We shall see what steps Velasquez took as a result.

## CHAPTER LV. {.chapter}
*How Diego Velasquez is informed by his agents that we had sent messengers with letters and gifts to our king, and what followed.*

Diego Velasquez received information about everything we had done, both from letters secretly delivered to him—said to be in Montejo’s handwriting—and from the sailor who swam ashore for that purpose. When he heard about the valuable gifts we sent to His Majesty and the agents we selected, his anger flared, and he cursed bitterly against Cortes, his own secretary Duero, and the treasurer Almador de Lares. He at once ordered two small but swift vessels to be fitted out, with as many men and firearms as could be mustered on short notice, and placed them under the command of two officers, Gabriel de Rojas and Guzman, instructing them to sail to the Havannah and capture the ship carrying our agents and the gold.

The two vessels arrived in the Bahama Channel after two days’ sailing and inquired of the fishermen and coasters whether they had seen a large ship pass that way. All reports indicated the ship had left, with favorable winds; so they cruised up and down for some time, but, unable to find any trace, they returned to Santiago.

If the first news had discouraged Diego Velasquez, he became even more so when the ship escaped. His friends then advised him to send someone to Spain to present his complaints before the president of Indian affairs, with whom he enjoyed much favor. Velasquez also made a formal accusation against Cortes and all of us in the royal court of audience at Santo Domingo, as well as to the Hieronymite brothers, viceroys of that island. These brothers—Father Luis de Figueroa, Father Alonso de Santo Domingo, and Father Bernardino de Mancañedo—were then three in number and lived together in the cloister of Mejorada, eight miles from Medina del Campo. Their reply to Velasquez was not very encouraging; for, after learning from our papers about our achievements, they declared that neither Cortes nor his troops could be reproached: we had only written to the emperor and sent him a gift of such value as had not been seen in Spain for a long time (and rightly so, as Peru was then still unknown); on the contrary, we deserved the highest rewards from His Majesty.

Moreover, the Hieronymite brothers commissioned the licentiate Zuazo—who was either sent to Cuba for this reason or had arrived a few months before—to investigate Velasquez's affair on the spot. The developments so completely discouraged Velasquez for many days. At length, he roused himself again and ordered every ship on the island to be prepared, and began enlisting officers and men; he intended to send out a powerful fleet to soon overpower Cortes and all of us. He spared no effort, traveling from place to place and from one settlement to another; where he couldn’t go himself, he sent letters, inviting all his friends to join the armament. In this way, after eleven or twelve months, he managed to fit out a fleet of eighteen ships carrying 1,300 soldiers and sailors. Because the matter was pursued with great party spirit, his relatives and all prominent people of Cuba, as well as everyone with a commandery, felt obliged to join. Command of this fleet was given to Pamfilo de Narvaez, a man of impressive stature and great bodily strength, with a powerful voice and an imperious look. He was a native of Valladolid, very wealthy, and had married a widow in Cuba, Maria de Valenzuela, who owned several lucrative Indian townships.

For now, though, we will leave this expedition aside and return to our agents, who had very favorable weather and arrived safely at their destination, as we will see in the next chapter. The reader will, I trust, understand that the seemingly irregular order of my narration results from my obligation to relate events in this history in the order they occurred.

## CHAPTER LVI. {.chapter}
*How our agents passed through the Bahama Channel with the most favorable wind and arrived in Castile after a short passage—and of our success at court.*

Our agents had a most favorable voyage to the Havannah and then through the Bahama Channel; their journey then continued with equal prosperity, soon reaching the Tercera Islands, and from there to Seville. They hired a carriage and travelled to the imperial court, then located in Valladolid. At this time, Archbishop Fonseca governed at his pleasure, being also president of Indian affairs, while the emperor, still very young, was in Flanders.

Our agents visited the archbishop, expecting a warm reception in gratitude. They gave him the letters detailing our adventures and the valuable gifts, and begged him to forward all this to His Majesty by courier, accompanying it themselves. However, instead of a kind reception, they were met coldly and dismissed with harsh, curt words. They pleaded with him to acknowledge the great services Cortes and his men had done for His Majesty and pressed him to deliver the letters and gifts to the emperor so the truth would be known. He, however, replied haughtily, ordering them not to trouble themselves further: he would inform His Majesty fully of the events—not according to their account, but according to the truth—that, namely, we had rebelled against Velasquez. He followed this with many sharp rebukes.

Around this time, Benito Martin, chaplain to Velasquez, arrived in Valladolid, hurling accusations against Cortes and all of us, which only made the archbishop more hostile to us. Francisco de Montejo did not dare defend our cause, but Puertocarrero, being a cousin of the Earl of Medellin, spoke up. He pressed the archbishop to give them a proper hearing and not answer so brusquely. They only asked him to forward the gifts to His Majesty—they had a right to expect this, as we were servants of the crown and deserved reward, not the rebukes we received.

These words angered the archbishop so much that he had Puertocarrero thrown in prison, due to an old affair—three years earlier he had carried off a married woman, Maria Rodriguez of Medellin, and taken her to the Indies. Such was the first reception our gifts and services met in Spain. Nothing remained for our agents but to hold their peace and wait for a better moment. The archbishop then sent his own account to the Emperor, then in Flanders, in which he praised Velasquez highly and spoke ill of Cortes and all of us, completely omitting our letters.

In response, Puertocarrero, Montejo, Martin Cortes (the general’s father), the licentiate Nuñez (reporter to the royal council and kin to Cortes), decided to send their own courier to the Emperor in Flanders. Fortunately, they had duplicates of all our letters and lists of the gifts intended for His Majesty.

They also sent a separate letter to the Emperor with complaints against the archbishop and all his dealings with Diego Velasquez. Several other nobles supported this plan, as they too opposed the archbishop, who had many enemies thanks to his arrogance and misuse of high office. Since the great services we had rendered to God and His Majesty were now viewed favorably, His Majesty investigated the matter closely. He was so pleased with our actions that for days the dukes, marquises, earls, and other nobles spoke of nothing but Cortes, our courage, our conquests, and the riches we’d sent. Because of this, as well as the archbishop’s unfaithful and distorted report and his keeping most of the gifts for himself, he soon lost His Majesty’s favor. Meanwhile, the archbishop’s own agents in Flanders sent word of all that had occurred, which angered him greatly. If prior to this he had spoken ill of Cortes and us to His Majesty, he now openly accused us of high treason. But the Lord soon curbed his fury, for two years later he was dismissed from office, and then suffered disdain and contempt. We, in contrast, were considered loyal men who had served the crown, as I shall relate in due course. The Emperor told our agents he would soon come to Spain to look into the matter more closely and reward us. Our agents therefore awaited His Majesty’s arrival in Spain.

Before I proceed, I must answer a question several cavaliers have asked: How could I recount these things when I was not personally present, being in New Spain campaigning while our agents were sent with our letters and gifts and suffered ill treatment from the Archbishop of Rosano? My answer is that our agents sent us, the true conquistadors, an exact account of all that passed between them and the archbishop, as well as of the Emperor’s favorable decision for us; Cortes then sent copies to all towns where we were stationed, to show how matters had turned out, and what an opponent the archbishop was. Now, after this explanation, I shall return to our position in New Spain and what occurred in the meantime.

## CHAPTER LVII. {.chapter}
*What took place in our camp after the departure of our agents to His Majesty with the gold and letters; and the instance of severity which Cortes was compelled to give.*

Suspicion among Velasquez’s supporters was again stirred after our agents’ departure, and shortly afterwards the following occurred. A conspiracy was started by Pedro Escudero, Juan Cormeño, Gonzalo de Umbria (a pilot), the priest Juan Diaz, Bernardino de Coria (later a citizen of Chiapa and father of Centeno), and some sailors from Gibraleon. All these men were deeply embittered against Cortes—some because he had refused them the promised discharge to return to Cuba, others because their share of the gold had been lost in the gift sent to the emperor, and the sailors because they still resented the lashes he gave them on Cozumel for stealing bacon. They planned to seize one of our small vessels, sail to Cuba, and tell Viceroy Diego Velasquez to send to the Havannah and Montejo’s estates to capture our agents with all the riches. We reasoned from this that the conspirators were counseled by officers of authority among us, since they knew Montejo, despite strict orders, had landed at his commandery. The plot had advanced so far that they had already placed provisions—cassava bread, oil, dried fish, water, and the like—on board, and were about to set sail when Bernardino de Coria repented, went to Cortes at midnight, and revealed the entire plan.

Cortes first made a thorough inquiry into the names and number of the conspirators, their motives, and their plan. He then ordered the sails, compass, and rudder removed from the intended vessel. After more questioning, the conspirators made a full confession and named others involved. These names were prudently kept secret, and only the most prominent conspirators were prosecuted. After a formal council of war, Pedro Escudero and Juan Cormeño were sentenced to be hanged; Gonzalo de Umbria, the pilot, to have his feet cut off; and the sailors to receive two hundred lashes each. If Father Juan had not been a priest, he too would have faced similar punishment; as it was, he merely suffered the dreadful suspense, which must have been terrible enough. I will never forget how Cortes exclaimed with a sigh, deeply moved, as he signed the death warrants: “How fortunate if I could not write; then I should not have to sign a death warrant!” A sentiment echoed by judges who oversee lives, but originally the words of the barbarous emperor Nero at the start of his reign, when he showed a kinder spirit.

Once the sentences were carried out, Cortes immediately set out for Sempoalla, having previously ordered 200 men and all our horse to follow. The distance to Sempoalla was a good twenty miles. Pedro de Alvarado was away at the time, having left three days earlier with 200 men into the mountains to secure provisions, which were extremely scarce. Orders were left for him to march to Sempoalla on his return, where arrangements would be made for our next route to Mexico. Alvarado, therefore, was not present for the executions.

## CHAPTER LVIII. {.chapter}
*How we came to the resolution to march to Mexico, and to destroy all our vessels, which was done with the advice and approval of all of Cortes’s true supporters.*

While preparations were being made at Sempoalla for our march inland, many discussions took place with Cortes on all matters related to it. We, his most trusted friends, proposed that all the ships should be deliberately stranded, cutting off any chance of future mutiny when we advanced far into the interior. The pilots and sailors would be more valuable to us as helpers than wasting their time idly in the harbor. I know well that the idea to destroy the ships came from Cortes himself; he only placed the proposal on our shoulders so that, if compensation was later claimed, the blame would fall on us and not just him—so that all of us would have to share the cost. The decision was adopted immediately, and Cortes ordered the alguacil-major, Juan de Escalante—a brave young man and a staunch supporter who hated Diego Velasquez for having failed to reward him in Cuba—to remove all anchors, ropes, sails, and anything useful from the ships and strand all the ships but the small boats. The pilots, old shipmasters, and those sailors unable to join our campaign were to remain in town and work fishing with our two drag nets in the harbor, where there was plenty of fish.

Juan de Escalante carried out these orders completely, arriving at Sempoalla with a new company made up of the sailors, several of whom became excellent soldiers. The next thing Cortes did was call together all the mountain caciques who had revolted from Motecusuma and allied with us. He told them they must help build the church, fortifications, and houses of our new town. “This man,” he said, taking Juan de Escalante by the hand, “is my brother; obey him in everything, and appeal to him if you need help against the Mexicans. He will himself defend you whenever you need.” The caciques replied, “We are ready to obey in everything,” and perfumed Juan de Escalante in their custom, which I remember he submitted to unwillingly. For the rest, he was a man to be trusted in all things, and fully had Cortes’s confidence. For this reason, Cortes made him commander of the town and harbor, someone he could trust absolutely, in case Diego Velasquez acted against him during his absence.

Gomara writes that Cortes ordered the ships to be sunk and did not tell us he intended to visit the great Motecusuma at Mexico. But we Spaniards are not people who need so much urging to move forward or to stay idle where there is no advantage or military glory to be gained. Gomara also says Pedro de Irico was left as commander of Vera Cruz. This is simply wrong; it was Juan de Escalante who was made commander and alguacil-major of New Spain. Pedro de Irico would hardly have been given command of a company, let alone so important a post. Nothing should be wrongly credited to a man, nor should anything be taken from someone to whom it rightfully belongs.

## CHAPTER LIX. {.chapter}
*The speech Cortés gave us after our ships were destroyed, and how we prepared for our march to Mexico.*

After the ships had been run ashore before our eyes, we—officers and soldiers—were one morning, after mass, all standing around Cortés. The conversation turned to various military matters, when he asked for our attention, as he had something to propose. He then addressed us at length, in words to this effect. We already knew about the campaign being planned. It was of such a nature that only the help of Jesus Christ, our Lord, could bring us safely through the battles and hardships ahead. Yet, despite our trust in God, we must not lack in courage or energy ourselves; should we be defeated—God forbid—considering our small number, we could expect no help except from above and from our own arms, since we no longer had any ships to return to Cuba. Cortés then gave many stirring comparisons from history, and spoke of several heroic deeds of the Romans. We all replied that we would follow his orders without question, as, like Cæsar after crossing the Rubicon, we now had no way back; besides, everything we did was for the glory of God and His Majesty the Emperor.

After this speech, whose powerful eloquence and moving effect I cannot fully capture, Cortés called the fat cazique before him and reminded him of the care and respect owed to the church and the cross. Cortés said he would now be leaving for Mexico, and he urged the cazique, for Motecusuma’s sake, to end all robbery and human sacrifices from now on. He also told him he would need two hundred porters to carry our cannon, and fifty of his best warriors to go with us.

Just as we were about to set out, a soldier arrived from Vera Cruz, whom Cortés had sent there to bring more men. He brought a letter from Juan de Escalante, reporting that a vessel had been seen off the coast. Escalante had signaled it with smoke and other signals, displayed white flags, and ridden up and down the coast on horseback in scarlet, trying to attract the attention of those on board. He was sure all this must have been seen, yet the vessel made no move to come into harbor. He made inquiries along the coast and found it anchored at the mouth of a small river about nine miles away, and he awaited Cortés’s orders for further action. After reading the letter, Cortés gave command of all the troops at Sempoalla to Alvarado alongside Gonzalo de Sandoval. This was the first time Sandoval was given command, as his military talents, which later brought him so much distinction, were now becoming evident. Strictly speaking, command should have gone to Alonso de Avila, which led to ill feeling between him and Sandoval. At this, Cortés mounted his horse, picked four of our cavalry and fifty of our fittest men, and marched to Vera Cruz, where we arrived that very night.

## CHAPTER LX. {.chapter}
*How Cortés arrived with us at the spot where the ship lay at anchor, captured six soldiers and sailors who came ashore, and what else happened.*

When we reached Vera Cruz, Juan de Escalante approached Cortés and said it would be best to seize the strange ship that very night, otherwise it might raise anchor and sail away. Escalante offered to handle the matter himself with twenty men so that Cortés could rest.

Cortés replied that he could not rest while there was work to be done, and he intended to go himself with the men he had brought. So, without even eating, we set out along the coast. Soon we captured four Spaniards who had been sent to take possession of the land in the name of Francisco de Garay, viceroy of Jamaica. They had come ashore sent by an officer named Alonso Álvarez de Pinedo, who had left a settlement on the banks of the Pánuco a few days before. One of the four, Guillan de la Loa, had written a formal deed of possession, signed by the other three.

After the prisoners confessed this to Cortés, he asked under what authority Garay had sent them to claim the land. They replied as follows. In 1518, after news spread throughout the West Indies of our discoveries under Córdoba and Grijalva, and of the twenty thousand pesos this had brought Diego Velásquez, Anton de Alaminos and another pilot from our voyage advised Garay to petition the king for the right to all lands north of the river St. Peter and Paul. Thanks to his court connections, Garay sent his steward, Torrolva, to Spain, who managed to secure for him the appointment of adelantado and vice-regent of all the lands north of the said river. In consequence, Garay equipped three vessels with two hundred and seventy men, as well as horses and provisions. He put them under Alonso Álvarez Pinedo, who was now about 280 miles away in the river Pánuco, intending to found a colony. The prisoners added that they had only obeyed the orders of that officer and were not personally responsible for their actions. Cortés was pleased with their openness, tried to win them over, and asked if it might be possible to capture the ship. Guillan de la Loa, the most distinguished of the prisoners, thought it could be done, and, with his comrades, offered to hail the ship’s boat to shore. They tried this, but despite their shouting and signals, no one responded. Likely, they had been seen, and the captain, aware of our presence, had warned his crew to watch out for Cortés. With no other option, Cortés told the four prisoners to take off their clothes, and had four of our men put them on and stay behind. The rest of us retraced our steps and waited behind a mountain, just out of sight of the ship. There we stayed until midnight, then quietly moved to the landing place nearby, where we hid ourselves, leaving our four disguised men visible.

At dawn, the four signaled to the ship with hats and cloaks. The shallop soon came ashore with six sailors, two of whom carried water-bottles and went ashore first. We waited for the other four to do the same. Meanwhile, our disguised men washed their hands and acted naturally to conceal their identities. Those in the boat called, “What are you doing there? Why don’t you come on board?” One of ours replied, “Come ashore and have a look around!” The sailors recognized a stranger’s voice and hurried back to the ship, ignoring our signals. We wanted to fire muskets at them, but Cortés refused, saying we should let them go and that he would deal with their commander himself. In the end, we captured only the aforementioned four, and the two who came ashore from the boat, and returned to Vera Cruz—again, without having eaten at all. Such are the true details of the affair, not as Gomara writes, who even claims Garay himself was present, though he did not come here until later, having sent the three officers and ships ahead. I will say more about this in time.

## CHAPTER LXI. {.chapter}
*How we set out on our march to Mexico, and, following the caziques’ advice, traveled through Tlascalla; what happened there, and the battles we fought.*

Once we were ready to march to Mexico, we met to discuss our route. The chiefs of Sempoalla recommended traveling through Tlascalla, as the people there were friendly with them and bitter enemies of the Mexicans. They also sent forty of their best warriors to go with us, which proved very helpful, along with 200 porters to carry our cannon. At that time, we soldiers had no baggage apart from our weapons, which we carried, slept beside, and stood ready with; we had nothing but light shoes on our feet, but were always ready for battle. It was about mid-August, 1519, when we left Sempoalla. We marched in strict order, with sharpshooters and many of our quickest men in the lead. On the first day we reached the town of Xalapa, and from there Socochina, which was strongly positioned, with dangerous approaches and many trained vine trees around. Doña Marina and Aguilar explained much about our holy religion to the people, and that we were subjects of Emperor Don Carlos the Fifth, sent to end kidnapping and human sacrifice. Since the locals were friends of the Sempoallans and paid no tribute to Motecusuma, they received us well and treated us kindly. In each place, we raised a cross, explained its meaning, and urged them to honor it. From Socochina we crossed a high mountain pass to Texutla, where the people were likewise friendly, as they had stopped paying tribute to Motecusuma. From there, we entered rugged and wild mountain country, with no signs of inhabitants, and that first night we suffered intensely from cold and hail. On top of that, all our food was gone, and the wind blowing from the snowy mountains chilled us to the bone; no wonder—for we had come straight from the hot climate of Cuba, Vera Cruz, and its coast into the cold. Whatever misfortune might happen, we had only our weapons, and were entirely unused to the cold. Eventually, we reached another mountain pass with some houses and huge temples for human sacrifice, with piles of wood ready for the idols. Again, there was no food to be found; the weather was still bitterly cold.

Our path now took us across the territory of Xocotlan. We sent two Sempoallan Indians ahead to the cazique, letting him know we were coming and asking hospitality. Since the locals here were subjects of Motecusuma, everything looked and felt different, and we advanced with maximum caution and in close formation. That said, we were quite pleased with the place, with its many whitewashed balconies, the dwellings of the caziques, and tall temples built entirely of stone and lime—so much so, that we named it Castilblanco, a name it still has; a Portuguese soldier among us said it looked just like Casteloblanco in Portugal. The cazique, on hearing of our arrival, came out with his principal people. His name was Olintecle, and he led us into his home, where he gave us little to eat, and that with reluctance.

After the meal, Cortés—using our interpreters—asked the cazique about his monarch, Motecusuma, and learned a great deal about the large armies stationed in the conquered provinces and on the borders. He spoke of the great and mighty city of Mexico, lying in the middle of the waters, with bridges and canoes connecting the houses: each house had an upper balcony and was so isolated by moats that each could be considered a small castle, defensible in its own right. The city was reached by three roads, each of which was cut through in four or five places to allow the water in; across these, wooden bridges were built, and breaking them would cut off access to Mexico. The cazique also described the abundance of silver and gold, precious stones, and the great riches of Motecusuma—he could not praise his monarch enough.

Cortés and all of us were amazed by all the cazique said of Motecusuma’s power and wealth. Yet, instead of being intimidated, we were only more eager to test our fortunes against these fortresses and bridges—that is the nature of a Spanish soldier; the impossibility Olintecle spoke of seemed nothing to us. Truthfully, Mexico was even more strongly fortified than described; only firsthand experience could do it justice—a description cannot. The cazique also added that Motecusuma expected absolute obedience from everyone, and he worried about Motecusuma’s anger if he found out we had entered the town and had been given provisions without permission.

Cortés, through the interpreters, spoke to him as follows: “You should know that we have come from distant lands, by command of our emperor and master Don Carlos, who counts many powerful princes among his vassals. We are here to tell your great Motecusuma that he may no longer allow kidnapping or human sacrifice or wage further wars of conquest, and that he must obey the emperor. I also say to you, Olintecle, and all the caziques present, that you must give up human sacrifice, stop eating human flesh, and cease other vile practices you are used to; such are the commandments of the God we believe in, who gives life and death, and who will one day welcome us into His heaven.”

As the Indians made no answer to all this and much more regarding our holy religion, Cortés turned to us and said, “I think, gentlemen, we can do nothing more here than raise a cross.” To which father Olmedo replied, “I think, sir, even that would be too much right now, for these people, as subjects of Motecusuma, are neither fearful nor shy of us, and would most likely destroy the cross. What we have told them about our faith is enough for now, until they are ready to understand more.”

Following this advice, we did not erect a cross here.

On this march we had a large dog with us belonging to Francisco de Lugo. All night it barked, so the caziques asked our Sempoallan friends if it were a lion or tiger we used to tear Indians apart. The Sempoallans answered we let it loose on any who attacked us. They said similar things about our cannon, claiming we loaded them with stones and killed everyone at whom we fired; that our horses were as fast as deer and could be sent against whoever we wished. “Surely these must be teules!” said Olintecle and the other chiefs. “They most certainly are, as you see them now,” (the Sempoallans continued,) “so do not anger them. Whatever you do, they’ll know about it: they can even read your thoughts, and have already imprisoned your tax-gatherers and ordered the mountain people and us Sempoallans not to pay tribute anymore. They have torn down our teules from the temples and set up their own. They have conquered Tabasco and Tzinpantzinco, and, despite Motecusuma’s power, received his presents. Now they have visited you, and you have given them nothing; you should correct this mistake quickly.”

This shows how well our allies knew how to speak highly of us. It wasn’t long before the caziques brought us four gold chains, three gold necklaces, and some lizards—all of gold but rather poor quality—as well as a package of cotton cloth and four women to bake bread for us. Cortés thanked them warmly and promised to return their kindness.

One place in this town I will never forget, near the temple: here, a vast number of human skulls were stacked in perfect order—there must have been more than 100,000; I repeat, more than 100,000. Similarly, other bones were piled up in another corner of the square, too numerous to count. Human heads hung from beams on both sides. Three papas stood guard at the site, having been appointed for just that role.

We saw the same grisly scenes further inland in every town, even in Tlascalla.

Cortés asked cazique Olintecle which was the best and easiest road to Mexico. “That one, through Cholulla, which is a large town,” replied the cazique. Our Sempoallan allies, however, advised against this, saying the people of Cholulla were treacherous and Motecusuma kept a strong garrison there. They insisted we should go through Tlascalla, because the people there were their friends and sworn enemies of the Mexicans. Cortés followed their advice, and the Almighty blessed his decision. Before leaving, we asked for twenty more of their best warriors to join us, and the cazique agreed.

The next morning, we began our march to Tlascalla, reaching first the small town of Xacatcinco. From there, we sent ahead two of the leading men of Sempoalla—who not only praised us highly but were also friendly with the locals. We gave them a letter, though we knew they could not read, and a Flanders hat with a colored feather, as was fashionable. I will explain what happened next in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER LXII. {.chapter}
*How we began our march to Tlascalla and sent messengers ahead to seek permission from the inhabitants to pass through their territory; how our messengers were taken prisoner, and what else happened.*

As we marched from Castilblanco, we exercised even greater caution than usual. Our sharpshooters always led the way, the cavalry stayed close around our troops, our muskets were loaded, matches burning, and we were ready for battle at a moment's notice.

Our first stop was the small township of Xacatcinco, where the inhabitants welcomed us with a gold necklace, some bundles of cotton cloth, and two Indian women. As mentioned earlier, we sent two prominent men from Sempoalla to Tlascalla to announce our approach, explain we came as friends, and hope for a friendly welcome. This message was necessary, since in Xacatcinco, we heard that all of Tlascalla was mobilizing against us. They already knew we had left that place, and given the number of warriors with us from Sempoalla and Xocotlan—both under Motecusuma—they assumed we came with hostile intentions. They figured we meant to act like the Mexicans, who always invaded under some false pretense when out for plunder.

So, when our messengers arrived with our letter and the Flanders hat, and were about to deliver their message, they were denied an audience and immediately thrown into prison. We waited for them two days. During that time, Cortés explained to the locals, as always, the basics of our holy religion, who our emperor was, the evil of human sacrifice, and the other atrocities they practiced. He also asked for twenty of their warriors to join us.

The locals agreed and sent us twenty warriors; after commending ourselves to God's protection, we broke camp on the third day and continued our march towards Tlascalla. On the way, our two messengers met us, having been secretly freed by friends. All Tlascalla continued to prepare for war against us. The messengers seemed downcast and hardly dared tell us what they'd seen and heard. After gaining courage, they told us how they'd been seized, thrown in jail, and threatened with dire violence against both themselves and us. “Now we will rise up,” they were told, “and destroy those you call teules. We’ll soon see if they’re as brave as you claim. We’ll devour both you and them, for you’ve come under false pretenses and at the urging of Motecusuma the traitor.”

Our messengers tried to dispute this, but it was pointless. When Cortés and the rest of us heard this bold language, and learned how prepared for war they were, we realized the seriousness of our situation. Still, we all cried out, “Well then, since there’s no other way, forward! For good or bad,” and we commended ourselves to God, unfurled our standard, which the ensign Corral carried. The people in the small township where we spent the night warned us that the Tlascallans would try to prevent our entry into their land. Our Sempoalla friends agreed with this.

As we marched, our conversation turned only to strategies for fighting the enemy. Our cavalry would charge three abreast, lances set, at the Indians head-on—while taking care not to let the enemy grab their lances. If that did happen, the rider was to hold tighter, spur his horse, and either wrench the lance back with a sudden tug or drag the opponent along with it.

You might wonder why we took such precautions before even seeing the enemy. I can answer with Cortés’s own words, who told us: “You know, gentlemen, how small our numbers are. Therefore, we must stay especially alert and always expect the enemy to attack. In fact, we must imagine ourselves already fighting, as if the battle had begun. Every soldier likes to grab the enemy’s lance, but given how few we are, we must especially guard against this now. Still, you hardly need my advice, since I’ve always seen you perform better than I could ever instruct.”

Sharing these plans, we advanced about eight miles, when we came upon a massive entrenchment, built so solidly of stone, lime, and a kind of hard bitumen that only pickaxes could break it, and if defended, it would have been nearly impossible to take. We stopped to inspect the fortification. Cortés asked the Xocotlans what purpose it served. They told him it was built by the Tlascallans—whose territory we were now entering—against the great Motecusuma, with whom they were always at war, to defend themselves from his attacks.

After examining the structure and sharing our opinions, Cortés said, “Let’s follow our standard, gentlemen! It bears the holy cross, and with it, we shall conquer.” We all agreed: “Forward, whatever may come; God is our strength.”

We continued on as cautiously as before, and soon our vanguard spotted about thirty Indians not far off, clearly out to scout us. They were armed with two-handed broad swords edged with hard flint, sharper than our steel swords, plus shields, lances, and feathered hair. Cortés ordered some cavalry to approach and try to capture one without injuring them. Five more followed at a distance in case of ambush. Our army advanced straight for the narrow pass, taking every care, since our allies said we’d surely run into a large enemy force hidden nearby. The thirty Indians retreated slowly as our cavalry approached, regrouping whenever we tried to capture them. They fought bravely with their swords and lances, wounding several of our horses. Our men’s tempers flared, and they killed five Indians. Just then, more than three thousand Tlascallans burst out from ambush, hurling a rain of arrows at our cavalry, who quickly closed their ranks. We responded with cannon fire, finally forcing the enemy to give ground, though they fought skillfully and bravely. On our side, four were wounded, and if I remember right, one died days later. We found seventeen of their dead, with far more wounded. As it was getting dark, they continued to retreat, and we followed.

After crossing the mountain, we entered a plain with many maize and maguey fields, from which the locals make their wine. We camped for the night by a brook. Lacking oil, we dressed our wounds with the fat of a corpulent Indian who had been killed. For supper, we feasted on young dogs, which were plentiful. Although the villagers had fled, taking their dogs, some of the animals returned at night, giving us the chance to catch them and prepare some excellent meat. All that night we maintained a strict watch—posting guards, keeping our horses saddled and bridled, and making regular patrols. I’ll stop here and describe the further battles in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER LXIII. {.chapter}
*Of the terrible battles we fought with the Tlascallans, and what else happened.*

The next morning, after praying to God, we broke camp. Each company marched tightly together, and our cavalry remained alert—ready to suddenly charge forward or fall back as needed, always ensuring our lines stayed intact and no one wandered away from their unit.

After marching a while, we ran into two large groups of enemies—about six thousand men. They made a dreadful noise with their drums and trumpets and screamed horribly. They launched arrows and lances, fighting fiercely. Cortés ordered us to halt. He sent three Indians—prisoners from the day before—to the enemy, asking them to stop fighting since we wished to treat them as brothers and friends. He also instructed Diego de Godoy, the royal secretary, to record all that happened, so if anyone later accused us of killing Indians, he'd have proof that we had tried to make peace.

The prisoners took our message, but the enemy ignored it and attacked even more violently, leaving us no choice but to respond. “Forward! St. James is with us! On to the enemy!” Cortés cried, and we fired our weapons so effectively that many Indians, including three chiefs, fell at once. After our first barrage, they withdrew to musket range and regrouped—beyond them an army of over forty thousand warriors surrounded us, commanded by their general Xicotencatl. His standards bore white and multi-colored flags. The ground was full of deep pits, making our cavalry useless until, with great care, they crossed over. This was very risky, as the enemy shot arrows and lances skillfully from higher ground, and their slings hurled stones at us too, but this lasted only until we reached level ground, where we managed to inflict heavy losses. Still, we had to keep our ranks tightly closed: anyone who tried to help another soldier or officer was quickly and dangerously wounded. We had to fight against twenty different divisions—a grueling, exhausting task. On top of that, the Indians constantly threw sand in our faces to blind us. Truly, we relied on God's mercy to survive. The enemy's main purpose was to capture a horse, and they partly succeeded: Pedro de Moron, mounted on his trained mare and with three cavalrymen, tried to break their lines. The Indians pulled the lance from his hand and attacked him with their swords, badly wounding him and his mare—so seriously that the horse died instantly. Only with the help of his three companions did Moron escape the same fate. Our group rushed up in time.

Worst of all, we had to stay close together to avoid being cut apart, which restricted our ability to move. Yet it was necessary to break formation just enough to rescue Moron and the mare, which they were dragging off half-dead. We had to leave the mare but managed to cut the girth and save the saddle. We suffered nine wounded in this battle, and I believe we killed four enemy chiefs. We moved forward, shoulder to shoulder, wreaking havoc with our swords. The enemy retreated, carrying off the dead mare, later cutting her up to send pieces to every township in Tlascalla. As we learned later, the horse’s shoes, the Flanders hat, and our letter were all brought as offerings to their idols. The mare belonged to Juan Sedeño, who had been wounded three times the day before and had lent the horse to Moron. Moron was an excellent cavalryman and died a few days later; at least, I don't recall seeing him again after this engagement.

We fought for over an hour, and our firearms must have caused extensive casualties among the tightly packed enemy. Every man did his duty; we battled like true warriors, for we were in greater danger than ever before. Many Indians died, including eight prominent chiefs—all sons of local lords. Eventually, the enemy retreated in good order—a relief, as we were nearly exhausted and couldn’t pursue. Furthermore, the ground was unfavorable due to scattered houses and pits in which many locals lived. This battle took place on the first two days of September 1519 near the village of Tehuacacinco, and we gave thanks to God for our deliverance and victory.

Afterward, we fell back to some large, high temples that served as strongholds. We dressed our wounds with Indian fat, as before. Five of our horses were wounded, and fifteen men, of whom one died later. We then ate a good supper of dogs and poultry found in abandoned homes. Before resting, we posted sentinels and kept constant patrols all night. We did not sleep until all was properly secured.

All told, we made fifteen prisoners, including two important nobles, but we could never determine the number of their dead or wounded since the Tlascallans always removed their casualties immediately.

## CHAPTER LXIV. {.chapter}
*How we set up camp in Tehuacacinco and what we did there.*

Our recent battles left us very tired, with several men and horses wounded, so we rested for a day, repaired our crossbows, and replenished our arrows. The next morning, Cortés told us, "It won’t hurt for our cavalry to ride out and parade a little. The Tlascallans might otherwise think we’ve had enough after that last battle. We need to show them we're still on their heels." It was wiser for us to act first rather than wait to be attacked, lest the enemy think we were weakened or demoralized. The surrounding countryside was flat and densely settled. We sent seven cavalry, some crossbowmen, and several musketeers—a total of 200 men, not including our allies. Every precaution was taken to protect our camp. On our march through the villages we captured twenty Indians of both sexes, but didn't harm any of them. Our allies, however, were less restrained and set fire to many houses where they found chickens and puppies. After returning to our quarters, Cortés ordered the prisoners' chains removed and gave them food. Doña Marina and Aguilar spoke to them kindly, giving each some glass beads and urging them to make peace with us, as we wanted to treat them as brothers and protect them.

We released the first two Indians we had captured, giving them a letter and instructing them to tell the leaders of the provinces we had no wish to harm the Tlascallans, only to pass through on our way to Mexico to meet Motecusuma.

These two faithfully carried out our orders and proceeded to the headquarters of Xicotencatl, which was, if I remember correctly, about six miles from our camp, in Tehuacinpacingo. Since the elder was away, they spoke to the younger Xicotencatl, who told them we only had to come to his father’s town for peace—after they had satisfied themselves with eating our flesh and sacrificing our blood and hearts to their gods. The next morning, he said, we would see his reply with our own eyes.

These harsh words, coming just after the battles, were not what we wanted to hear. Still, Cortés received the messengers with great kindness—realizing that they no longer feared us—and sent them again with more strings of beads as gifts. He also asked them detailed questions about Xicotencatl’s command and the size of his army, learning that he now had even more men than for the last battle: five chiefs, each commanding ten thousand men. The divisions were as follows: Xicotencatl's own ten thousand; another ten thousand under the powerful chief Maxixcatzin; another ten thousand under the notable chief Chichimeclatecl; ten thousand under Tecapaneca, chief of Topoyanco; and ten thousand under Quaxobcin—making fifty thousand in all. Each force had its own standards and weapons, the main emblem being a large white bird, wings spread as if ready to fly, resembling an ostrich. Additionally, each chief had his own colors and insignia, just like our Spanish dukes and earls. At first, we did not believe all this, but found later it was true. Since we were only human—and feared death—we all confessed to Father Olmedo and the priest Juan Diaz, which took them the whole night. We prayed fervently for victory. Thus the next day dawned, the day of the next battle, which I'll describe in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER LXV. {.chapter}
*Of the great battle we fought with the Tlascallans, and what further took place.*

On the morning of September 5, 1519, we prepared for battle. The cavalry were formed up first, then the foot soldiers, and even the wounded had to come along to increase our numbers and do what they could. The crossbowmen were ordered that some would load while others fired, always alternating. The musketeers received similar orders, and the rest with swords and shields were mainly to strike at the enemy's midsection to keep them from pressing so closely as before. Everyone was strictly told not to leave the ranks. The cavalry were to stick together, attack at full gallop, and target the enemy’s faces and eyes. The ensign Corral was assigned four guards, and so we marched out from camp, standard flying.

We hadn't gone a quarter mile when we saw the fields swarming with warriors. Their heads were adorned with great feather crests, their colors waved, and a wild din of horns and trumpets filled the air. To describe this scene fully would be nearly impossible; it was truly a battle as fierce and uncertain as any could be. At once, we were surrounded by such multitudes that the plain, six miles wide, seemed filled with a single mass of enemies, with our little group of 400—most of us wounded and weary—at the center. We knew the host fought with the intent to spare none of us except those to be sacrificed to their gods. As the attack began, a hail of arrows and stones rained upon us; the ground was soon littered with lances, their double-edged points easily piercing any armor, especially dangerous to the lower body where we had little protection. The enemy fell on us like furies, screaming horribly. Despite this, our heavy guns, muskets, and crossbows did considerable damage, and we met those who pressed too close with deadly blows and thrusts. This time, they did not let us get as near as before. Our cavalry especially showed great bravery and skill, and, next to God, were the main reason we survived.

Our lines were already half-broken; all Cortés’s commands to restore order went unheeded, as the sheer press of the enemy left us only enough space to fight with sword in hand to prevent being overrun. It was truly the enemy's own numbers that helped us, for they were packed so tightly that every shot did heavy damage, and many chiefs and their men couldn't even get into the fight. Also, rivalries from our last battle caused more confusion: Commander Xicotencatl accused another chief, Chichimeclatecl’s son, of not fulfilling his duty; the other insisted he'd done more than his share. So, in this fight, neither helped the other; Chichimeclatecl even forbade the Huexotzinco to join in. The enemy had already learned to fear our horses, cannon, swords, and crossbows, as well as our courage. Above all, God gave us extra strength during this crisis. Since Xicotencatl's two main officers obeyed poorly—and we fought all the harder, killing many of their men, whose bodies were immediately removed—their ranks lost spirit. One leading commander must have been killed, for they gradually withdrew, still keeping order. Our cavalry chased them briefly but had to return due to exhaustion.

Once the crush had passed, we thanked God fervently. We lost only one man, but sixty others—and all our horses—were wounded. I myself came away with two wounds: one on the head from a sling stone, and the other an arrow to my ankle; but both were minor and didn’t keep me from fighting. This was true for most, for unless a wound was disabling, men remained on duty as too few remained unhurt to face the enemy. Returning to camp, we rejoiced in our victory and thanked God. We buried our dead in one of the underground dwellings to prevent the Indians from realizing we too could die—hoping they’d still see us as divine. We piled earth over the grave to hide the smell. As before, we used Indian fat to treat our wounds. Our misery was great: we had no oil for wounds or salt for food. We also had no shelter from the sharp wind blowing over the Sierra Nevada, leaving us chilled to the bone. Nevertheless, we kept our spirits up, and that night slept more deeply than before, having improved our sentries and patrols.

## CHAPTER LXVI. {.chapter}
*How we sent a message the next day to the caziques of Tlascalla to establish peace between us, and what decision they made about it.*

In the last battle, we had captured three distinguished individuals. Cortes sent these, along with the two others we had previously taken and already dispatched once with a message to the caziques of Tlascalla, asking them on our behalf to make peace with us and let us pass through their territory to Mexico, just as we had requested before. If they refused, we would exterminate them all. However, it would grieve us to be driven to such an extreme, since we were well disposed and would gladly welcome them as brothers; we would not have done so much if they had not forced us. Cortes also spoke many other kind words to win their friendship.

The emissaries arrived early at Tlascalla’s main town and delivered their message to a general assembly of the caziques, who were meeting with several elders and priests. Everyone was still deeply disheartened after their defeat, mourning the loss of their leaders, and sons and relatives who had fallen; at first, they would not even listen to our messengers. Eventually, they decided to consult all their astrologers, priests, and fortune-tellers, a kind of conjurer they call *Tacalnaguas*. Once gathered, these were asked to use their magic and enchantments to determine what kind of people we were, and whether it was possible to overcome us if they continued attacking us day and night. They were also to give a definitive answer on whether we were really teules—that is, evil spirits, as the people of Sempoalla had told them—and finally, what we ate. All these things they were to investigate thoroughly.

The soothsayers, conjurers, and priests, who were numerous, immediately began their rituals and enchantments; they claimed to have learned through their arts that we were humans made of flesh and bone; that we ate dogs, fowl, bread, and fruit, like they did, if we could get them; and that we did not devour the Indians—or the hearts of those we had slain. Our friends from Sempoalla had told them all kinds of wild stories about us; not just that we were teules, but that we ate the hearts of the Indians; that our cannons fired lightning; that our dog was a tiger or lion; and that we sent our horses loose on people when we wanted to kill. Worst of all, these soothsayers and priests claimed it was impossible to defeat us except at night, for we were helpless once the sun—source of all our strength—had set.

This seemed like a great tip to the caziques, so they sent orders to their captain-general, Xicotencatl, to attack us as soon as possible and at night. Xicotencatl obeyed: he gathered ten thousand of his bravest warriors, marched towards our camp, and attacked us furiously from three directions at once during the night. The attack was made boldly, for the Tlascallans believed they had only to show themselves to capture us easily and sacrifice us to their gods. But God had ordered it otherwise. However quietly they approached, we were on our guard, as the outposts and patrols quickly ran in at the first sound and gave the alarm. Since we always slept in our clothes, weapons in hand, horses bridled and saddled, and cannons loaded, we gave the enemy such a harsh welcome with muskets and crossbows, and cut among them so fiercely with our swords, that they soon had enough and fled. The country was flat and the moon bright, so our cavalry could pursue the fleeing enemy a long way. The next morning, we found about twenty of them dead and wounded, so their casualties must have been significant; they surely realized night fighting was not so pleasant. Some say they were so angry with the soothsayers and priests that two of them were sacrificed. In this night’s fight, we lost one of our Sempoalla friends, and two of our men and a horse were wounded, and we captured four prisoners. You can imagine how glad we were to have come through so well. We all thanked God for his help, buried our Sempoalla friend, dressed wounds, and tried to get some rest for the rest of the night, but not before taking every precaution to secure our camp as always. It was only the next morning we realized our true state. Not a single one of us had escaped without one, two, or three wounds, and all of us were weakened by fatigue and hardship. Xicotencatl still hovered nearby, and we had already lost fifty-five men, some killed in battle, others dead of sickness or the cold. Twelve more were exhausted, even our commander Cortes and Father Olmedo were down with fever. It’s no wonder: among all our hardships, we never dared let go of our heavy weapons, and the cold was severe, and we couldn’t find any salt. It was natural that we’d start to wonder how this campaign would end, and where we would go if we ever got out of our current predicament—for the idea of marching on to Mexico struck us as laughable when we looked at the power of that state. Even if we got as good terms with Tlascalla as with the Sempoallans, what would happen if we faced Motecusuma’s huge armies? We had no idea what was happening at our fortress in Vera Cruz, and our men there knew nothing about us. There were certainly many brave knights and soldiers of great courage among us who also gave wise advice in council, and Cortes never spoke or acted without consulting them first. Historians like Gomara make it sound as if everything was Cortes: “Cortes did this, Cortes did that, Cortes was here, Cortes went there—as if nothing else mattered.” Even if, as Gomara claims, Cortes had been made of iron, he couldn’t possibly have been everywhere and done everything himself. What’s the point of such exaggeration? It would be enough to say Cortes was an excellent captain, as he certainly was! I feel obliged to mention this, for aside from God’s protection, his blessing was on our arms and on the council we gave Cortes, and only that way could things have turned out so well.

But I won’t bore the reader with further preamble, for that's not the point of this history. I am more pleased to relate that we all agreed to protect the general, and begged him, since God had rescued us and spared our lives, to release our prisoners and send them back to the caziques and ask them for peace, adding that we would pardon past events, including the death of the horse.

I should not forget to mention the brave spirit Doña Marina, though a native woman, always showed. All day long, we heard threats of being killed and eaten by the locals; she had seen with her own eyes how we were surrounded in those recent battles, how we were all wounded and many sick—yet she never lost heart. On the contrary, she showed courage far beyond her sex. When the prisoners were sent off again to make a peace offer, she and Aguilar instructed them exactly what to say: that peace was to be arranged within two days, or we would march forward, lay waste to their lands, force our way into their towns, and put every soul to the sword. I must return to Gomara, who never mentions our killed, wounded, or hardships, as if everything turned magically in our favor. Clearly, his sources were poorly informed. Did he never think how interesting his work would be to us conquerors, and that we would not withhold the truth if we read it?

But back to my story: our envoys went to the great town of Tlascalla, where the elder Xicotencatl lived. If I recall rightly, we sent a letter along, even though we knew the Indians wouldn’t understand it; there was also an arrow with it. They found the two main caziques in council with the other principal men. Their answer I will give in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER LXVII. {.chapter}
*How we again sent messengers to the caziques of Tlascalla, seeking peace, and the decision they reached upon it.*

The two main caziques our messengers spoke with were Maxixcatzin and the elder Xicotencatl, father of the captain-general of the same name (called the younger). The envoys delivered their commission, and the caziques stayed silent for a time and were undecided until God moved their hearts to make peace with us. They called a meeting of all caziques and leading men of the townships, including friends from Huexotzinco province. When all had assembled at the house of Maxixcatzin and the elder Xicotencatl (who held the highest rank), these prudent men gave a speech to the assembly to the following effect, as we later learned, though we may not recall the exact words: “Brothers and friends! You know how many times these teules, who are among us always ready for battle, have offered peace and said they came as friends to help us. Nor have you forgotten the prisoners they have taken—yet they never harm them, but release them. We have now attacked them three times with all our force, day and night, but we have not defeated them, and they have killed many of our people—children, relatives, chiefs. Now, once again, they ask for peace, and those from Sempoalla, who are with them, assure us these strangers are enemies of Motecusuma and the Mexicans, and have ordered their people and those of the Totonac mountains not to pay tribute any longer. We all know that for over a hundred years, the Mexicans have raided our land each year. They’ve boxed us in our territory so we cannot travel to get salt for food or cotton for clothing. If any of our people go outside the mountains, they rarely return; the treacherous Mexicans and their allies kill or enslave anyone they catch. Our soothsayers and priests have given us their opinion of these teules; we know their power and bravery by direct experience. For these reasons, we are inclined to make peace. Whether they are men or spirits, an alliance would help us. Let’s send four chiefs to their camp with good food to show them goodwill and an intent for peace so they may help and protect us against our enemies. Let’s invite them into our land and present them with some of our women so we can become one people—since, according to their messengers, they also have women with them.” The caziques all agreed to this, resolving to begin a treaty for peace, and ordered the captain-general Xicotencatl and other commanders to halt all attacks; they sent word at once. The younger Xicotencatl, however, refused to listen, expressing deep grief and harsh words: “There’s no need to beg for peace! Many of the teules have already been killed, and one of their horses; I will attack again tonight and destroy them all.”

When the elder Xicotencatl, Maxixcatzin, and the other caziques heard this reply, they were furious and ordered all officers and the whole army not to obey Xicotencatl in anything related to attacking us, and to cease hostilities altogether. Still, Xicotencatl refused to submit, so it became necessary to send the four elders who were supposed to make peace to these obstinate ones to convince them. But these four were so intimidated by the young hothead that they failed to complete their mission.

As two or three things happened at the same time, I’ll recount them in order, beginning with our excursion to a neighboring town.

## CHAPTER LXVIII. {.chapter}
*How we decided to march into a nearby township and what happened there.*

After two days had passed without anything noteworthy, we proposed to Cortes to make an excursion to a township about four miles from our camp, whose people had ignored our earlier peace offers. We decided to take them by surprise at night—not to hurt, kill, or capture the people, but simply to get food, scare them a little, and make renewed offers of peace depending on circumstances. The town was called Zumpanzingo and was the largest in the area. Tecodcungapacingo, where we camped, was under its authority; the surrounding area was filled with scattered houses and villages. Cortes approved of our suggestion and we set out shortly before daybreak with all those who could best endure the march: six cavalry, ten crossbowmen, and eight musketeers—Cortes himself leading, even though he was suffering from a fever. All proper precautions were left in place for defending our camp.

We marched about six miles before dawn, and the wind blowing from the snowy mountains was so sharp that we shivered with cold. Our horses were also affected: two suffered cramps and trembled like leaves, and we feared they would die. Cortes sent them back to camp. We reached Zumpanzingo before sunrise. The residents saw us coming and fled their homes, their minds full of terrifying stories about us. They shouted warnings about the teules, saying they killed everyone, sparing neither young nor old. Seeing how frightened they were, we stayed in a courtyard until full daylight, to avoid harming anyone in the dark. On the highest temples in town, we saw priests and notable elders who, noticing we were doing no harm, became bolder and came down to Cortes. They apologized for not sending provisions or peace envoys, which we had asked for. They told us it was all the fault of commander Xicotencatl, who had forbidden them and was encamped nearby. They admitted to fearing him, since all the warriors from Tlascalla and the surrounding lands followed him. Through our interpreters, Doña Marina and Aguilar, who always accompanied us, Cortes reassured them, telling them not to be afraid, and urging the chiefs of the main town to come and make peace, since war would only bring them trouble.

This was the message the priests were to give, since we had not yet received a reply from our other ambassadors to the Tlascalla chiefs, nor had those four principal men arrived. Before leaving, however, the priests brought us over forty fowl and turkeys, and two women to bake our bread. Cortes thanked them warmly for the gift and asked for twenty men to carry it to camp. These came without fear, carried the food, and stayed with us until evening. We gave them some small gifts and they returned home happy. Because we harmed no one, the inhabitants praised our good conduct; the priests and leading men also told Xicotencatl they had given us food and two women—which angered him greatly. The same news was sent to the elder caziques, who were pleased to learn we could have destroyed the town but did none and instead sought peace. They ordered daily deliveries of food and whatever else we might need. The four dignitaries charged with making peace with us renewed their orders, and no longer delayed, soon coming to our camp with supplies and gifts. We returned to camp very pleased with the food and women.

## CHAPTER LXIX. {.chapter}
*What we found on returning to our camp, the new disputes stirred up, and how Cortes responded to the arguments made to him.*

When we returned to headquarters from Zumpanzingo, pleased with our supplies and the peace made with the locals, we were met only with complaints and discontent. All we heard were warnings about the great dangers we still faced in this campaign; nor did our return improve morale. The loudest of the discontented were those who owned settlements and Indian encomiendas in Cuba; they didn’t just grumble in private—seven of them (whose names I leave out for honor’s sake) joined together and paid a call on Cortes. One of them, skilled in rhetoric and thoroughly familiar with the subject, acted as spokesman.

He began, with a counsel’s air, by asking Cortes to consider our wounds and how exhausted we were from constant hardships day and night, always fighting, patrolling, on outpost duty, and on watch. He said they had counted that we had lost fifty-five men since leaving Cuba, and we still didn’t know what was happening at our garrison in Vera Cruz. However much God had favored us, it was due to his mercy alone. It was wrong, he said, to rely too much on divine protection, for that would be tempting fate. “The pitcher goes to the well until it breaks,” they said, and sooner or later, we would be sacrificed to the idols. God in his mercy might save us, but we should return to Vera Cruz and remain there, where we would be among friends and allies—the peoples of the Totonac mountains—until we could send a ship to Diego Velasquez and the islands to get reinforcements and supplies. If only our ships had been saved—or at least a couple—for emergencies. But, alas, he said, Cortes had followed the counsel of men insensitive to fortune, who destroyed the only means of escape.

“May God forbid,” they added, “that you and those who advised it do not live to regret it. Our suffering is already overwhelming; our condition is unbearable, and our life worse than pack animals. At least pack animals, after their work, get their load taken off, are fed, and can rest. We, in contrast, are always under arms, never undressed. Look at the histories of the Romans, Alexander the Great, and other great generals—none of them ever destroyed their fleet when facing such risks, just a handful of men among many warlike tribes. You will be responsible for your own death and ours. At least, try to save your own and our lives, and lead us back to Vera Cruz while we still have peace here. They would have advised this earlier, but the dangers surrounded us on all sides until now. But now, while the enemy is quiet, opportunity appears. Mind you, the enemy will surely attack again; these three quiet days that Xicotencatl has allowed are only to gather reinforcements. We couldn’t survive another fight like those we’ve just faced.”

Such were their arguments as, confident, they pressed their case. But since all this was phrased as friendly advice, Cortes responded calmly, saying something like the following: “Much of what you have said I have also thought about; but above all, I have clear proof that there are no braver Spaniards in the world than you, no troops who can fight or suffer more. In fact, we would have been destroyed long ago if we hadn’t always kept our weapons ready, patrolled, kept watch day and night, and endured sun and rain. Our only safety was in always facing danger stoutly. Of course God has helped us, but I can’t imagine a greater display of heroism than what I saw in you when the enemy surrounded us, attacking from all sides, especially in the battle where one of our horses was killed. That moment taught me more about your valor than anything before. Since God saved us then, I trust our future attempts will succeed as well. You, too, can testify that I never lack courage in danger, nor have you ever fallen short in answering my trust.”

Cortes truly described himself, for he was always front and center in battle.

“And remember, gentlemen,” he continued, “that up to now God has protected us, and we can trust he will not abandon us, for from the very first we have declared his holy religion everywhere, destroyed the idols, and done our best to serve him. Trusting in God and our patron, St. Peter, we have reason to consider this war close to its end, since Xicotencatl and the others dare not show themselves after so many of their men were destroyed, or they can’t convince them to return. The people of Zumpanzingo willingly bring us food, and all the tribes nearby remain peaceful. As for our ships, it was necessary to destroy them, and though I did not consult you when that decision was made, I had good reason in light of what happened on the dunes, which I will not discuss here. The advice you gave before, and your complaints now, both come from the same spirit of dissatisfaction, but be aware that other cavaliers among us disagree with you and advise instead to trust in God and do our duty. Indeed, you give us credit, saying even the greatest Roman generals cannot compare their deeds to ours. Future historians, if it please God, will tell even greater things of us, for our cause is just and we act as Christians, serving God and our emperor. If you think we could survive by retreating, think again: the moment these people saw we were running from them, even if we left on good terms, even the stones of the ground would rise up against us. Just as the Indians now look at us as superior beings, or gods, they would see us as cowards if we tried to leave. You suggest we settle with our Totonac friends; but if they saw us turn back without going on to Mexico, and they’re refusing to pay Motecusuma tribute, he’ll send armies to destroy them if they don’t declare against us. Thus, where we expect friends, we would make enemies. What would Motecusuma think of our bold words and envoys if he saw us retreat? He would think it was all a joke. So, you see, gentlemen, the outlook is bad either way. Our wisest course is to remain here in this prosperous valley, where food is plentiful. Today it’s fowl, tomorrow dogs, but—thank God—we won’t starve. Salt and warmer clothing are our main wants. You say we’ve lost fifty-five men since Cuba, to hunger, exhaustion, sickness, and wounds, and that now we’re few and worn down. But remember, God has given us strength in our small numbers, and war always brings losses. Food one day, none the next. And after all, we came here not to seek comfort, but to fight whenever necessary. So I ask you, cavalier gentlemen, who have always been brave, not to give in to despair or to memories of Cuba and what you left behind. Prove yourselves the valiant soldiers you are, for, next to God, all depends on our courage.”

With this answer, the envoys went back to their group, who all agreed they could not dispute anything Cortes had said, and reminded each other that we left Vera Cruz intending to march to Mexico; though now, they were far better aware of that city’s strength and armies. Even the Tlascallans were frightened whenever the Mexican name was mentioned. We said the Sempoallans were at peace, but we had as little proof of that as we did about goings-on in Mexico. Up to now, we had suffered so much that if we were attacked again as fiercely as before, we could not withstand it. Even if the enemy stayed quiet, a march to Mexico would be madness, and they were amazed anyone would want or command it. Cortes replied—rather angrily—“Even so, it is better to die like brave men, as the poets say, than live as cowards!” The rest of us, loyal to our general and who had agreed to destroy the ships and appoint him captain, backed him, asking him not to heed the complaints any further but to order as needed, with God’s help, and rely on our loyalty.

That ended their plotting. They continued to grumble against Cortes and cursed us supporters and the Sempoallans for suggesting this route—using language unfit for them—but, for the time being, complied and obeyed our general in all things.

Meanwhile, the elders of Tlascalla again sent strict orders to Xicotencatl not to attack us, but instead to bring food and come personally to our camp to make peace. This was the wish of all the caziques and principal men of both Huexotzinco and Tlascalla. Orders were at the same time sent to every officer, forbidding them to obey Xicotencatl in anything except negotiating peace. Such commands were sent three times in a row, because word came that Xicotencatl was not only ignoring them but planned to attack us again that night, having gathered 20,000 warriors. Always arrogant, he again refused to listen, and what happened next will be told in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER LXX. {.chapter}
*How Captain Xicotencatl assembled 20,000 chosen warriors to attack us in our camp, and what happened as a result.*

The caziques, Maxixcatzin and the elder Xicotencatl, along with all the leading figures of the main town of Tlascalla, had now, for the fourth time, issued strict orders to their captain-general not to approach our camp, and instructed the other officers not to accompany him unless he was coming to seek peace with us. Xicotencatl was encamped near us and was deeply angered by this; still, he decided to send us forty Indians bearing provisions: fowls, bread, and fruit. This gift also included four unpleasant old Indian women, some copal, and parrot feathers.

Naturally, we assumed they came with peaceful intentions. When brought into Cortés's presence, they perfumed him and spoke, without the formalities their people usually observed: “These gifts are sent to you by General Xicotencatl so that you may eat, if it is true you are teules, as the people of Sempoalla say. If you also require a sacrifice, then kill these four women and eat their flesh and their hearts. We did not know your wishes in this, so we have not sacrificed them for you. But if you are human, be satisfied with the fruit and fowls; and if you are kindly teules, accept the copal and parrot feathers as an offering.”

Cortés replied through our interpreters that he wished for peace, not war, as he had already told them. He had come into their land to ask them, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and our great emperor Don Carlos, to stop practicing human sacrifice. We were all human beings, made of flesh and bone like them, not teules but Christians. We killed no one unless we were attacked; in that case, we destroyed our enemies, whether day or night. He expressed gratitude for the food and urged them to also send true peace envoys.

It was immediately obvious to us that these people Xicotencatl sent were actually spies, sent to gather information on our camp's defenses, the number of our men, our horses, and our cannons, among other details. They remained with us throughout the day and the following night. Some would occasionally return to Xicotencatl, while others arrived to take their place. All this greatly puzzled our friends from Sempoalla, as in their customs, it was unusual to stay in an enemy's camp for such a length of time without a specific purpose. Their suspicions were heightened by comments made by two old men from Zumpanzingo, who hinted that Xicotencatl was ready with a large army to launch a surprise attack on us. At first, they dismissed these warnings as mere boasting and had not mentioned them to Cortés. Doña Marina, having learned of this, quickly informed our general, who, wanting to uncover the truth, ordered two Tlascallans—who seemed trustworthy—to be detained. They confessed that Xicotencatl had sent them as spies. These men were then released, and others were detained, all of whom gave the same answer and added that their commander, Xicotencatl, was just waiting for their report before attacking us at night with all his forces.

After Cortés was certain of the situation, he ordered all of us to stay alert and ready for battle; he also imprisoned seventeen more spies. Some he had their thumbs cut off, others their whole hands, and sent them back to Xicotencatl with this message: “This is how I punish such messengers. He may come now, by night or day, and we will be waiting for him here for two full days: had we not been inclined toward peace, we could have already destroyed both his army and himself. It is now time that he put aside such foolishness and sent a sincere sign of peace.”

The unfortunate men, thus maimed, returned to Xicotencatl's camp just as he was preparing to march with his entire army to attack us at night. On seeing his spies in that condition and hearing how they'd been treated, his pride and confidence were broken at once. Moreover, a certain chief with whom he had quarreled during recent battles left the camp with his men.

## CHAPTER LXXI. {.chapter}
*How four leading men came to our camp to negotiate peace, and what then occurred.*

At this point, we had lost hope of securing the peace we so strongly desired and began instead to prepare for battle. We cleaned and sharpened our weapons, readied our arrows, and made other preparations for a fight, when one of our scouts hurried in with news that a party of Indians, men and women, was approaching along the main road to Tlascalla, heading straight for our camp, loaded with bundles. One of our horsemen had gone ahead to watch them and now galloped back with word that the group was nearing our camp, only stopping now and then to rest.

Cortés and all of us were delighted to hear this; we hoped they were bringing news of peace, and indeed, that was the case. He ordered that no alarm be raised and that we all remain quietly in our huts as if unaware of their approach. When the Indians arrived, four important men stepped out from among the porters. They had been sent by the elder caziques to make a peace treaty with us. They signaled peace by lowering their heads, then walked directly to Cortés's hut. There, they touched the ground with their hands, kissed it, bowed three times, and perfumed him with copal. They began: “All the chiefs of Tlascalla, with their subjects, allies, friends, and confederates, wish to make peace and friendship with Cortés and his brothers, the teules. They ask forgiveness for starting hostilities instead of seeking friendship, which only happened because they believed we were friends of Motecusuma and the Mexicans, their most bitter enemies for generations. Their suspicion was strengthened by our having so many people from tribes that paid tribute to Motecusuma, who often raided their country under various pretexts and carried off their women and children. They again feared some trick was at hand, and so had not trusted our envoys. They did not start the fighting when we first entered their country, nor was it on their orders, but was the act of the Chontal-Otomies, a rough and wild tribe from the mountains, who thought they could easily overpower our small group, seize us as prisoners, and offer our hearts to the Tlascallan chiefs to win their favor. Now, they came to ask forgiveness and would provide us with all the food we needed. They hoped we would accept the provisions they now brought as a sign of their goodwill. In two days' time, the commander Xicotencatl and the other caziques would come themselves to show how much all Tlascalla desired to make peace and friendship with us.”

After the chiefs finished speaking, they bowed again, touched and kissed the ground. With great dignity and seriousness, Cortés replied through our interpreters: “I would be justified in refusing to listen or make any agreement with you; for, upon first entering your land, I offered peace and said I wished to help you against your Mexican enemies. You would not believe me, nearly killed our ambassadors, attacked us three times, and even sent spies into our camp. During battle, we could have killed many more, and we regretted the loss of those who died; but we were forced into it. I had even resolved to take the war to the very town where the senior caziques lived. But since you now ask for peace, I will receive you kindly, in the name of our emperor, and accept the food you have brought. Tell your chiefs to come here in person or send a better guarantee of peace. If you refuse, I will march on your city and attack you at your own doors. You must only approach our camp in daylight; if you come at night, we will kill you all without mercy.”

After giving this answer, Cortés gave the messengers blue beads for the caziques, as a token of peace. They left and went to nearby Indian dwellings, leaving the women who had come with them to prepare bread, fowl, and dinner for us. There were also twenty men who fetched wood and water for cooking, and they made us a fine meal. Now convinced they wished for peace in earnest, we gave heartfelt thanks to God who arranged matters thus; and truly, it was about time, for we were all exhausted from the endless war, as any reader can imagine.

As for these events, Gomara again mixes in many untruths. At one point he claims Cortés climbed a mountain to look over the town of Zumpanzingo, though it was actually right next to our camp, and anyone could see it plainly. He also claims the soldiers made certain remarks I won't repeat here, while saying he had good sources—none of which is true. Never was there a commander more strictly obeyed than Cortés, nor will there be again. Such thoughts never entered the minds of our men, except in the one instance I have already described. Even the suggestions made to Cortés, as mentioned in the previous chapter, were all respectful advice. Those who offered them did so with good intentions, and though they sometimes disagreed, they always obeyed him strictly. Is it any wonder that a general should listen to sensible advice from experienced soldiers, especially when his troops are in such a difficult situation? I only regret that all Gomara's falsehoods may be believed, because his writing style is so impressive.

## CHAPTER LXXII. {.chapter}
*How ambassadors arrived at our camp from Motecusuma, and the gifts they brought.*

After God, in His great mercy, granted us success in the battles against the Tlascallans, our reputation spread far and wide—even to the mighty Motecusuma in Mexico. While we had already been regarded as teules, or a kind of gods, the tales of our bravery were now even more inflated, and the whole country was filled with fear after we broke the power of the Tlascallans with such a small force, forcing them to sue for peace.

So it was that the powerful king Motecusuma—whether out of kindness or, more likely, fear of our approach—sent five distinguished men to our camp in Tlascalla, welcoming us and expressing the great pleasure he felt at our victories over such large armies. The envoys brought a valuable present: gold trinkets of various designs, worth about 1,000 pesos, and bales of cotton goods carried by twenty men. He also told us it was his desire to become a vassal of our emperor, and that he was pleased we were near his city. He expressed goodwill toward Cortés and the other teules and wanted to know how much annual tribute in gold, silver, jewels, and cotton goods he should send our emperor—suggesting that, if we told him, we'd have no need to come to Mexico. He would be glad to see us, but warned that the journey was hard, through barren and rocky country, and that he worried about the hardships we would endure, as there was no way to remove these obstacles.

Cortés replied with thanks for his kind sentiments, the gifts, and his offer to pay tribute, but asked the ambassadors not to leave until we reached the metropolis of Tlascalla, when he would give them his response for their king.

In truth, Cortés was unwell, as the previous day he had taken a manzanilla purgative, found on the island of Cuba, which is very beneficial when used correctly.

## CHAPTER LXXIII. {.chapter}
*How Captain-General Xicotencatl arrived at our camp to negotiate peace; his speech, and what happened next.*

Cortés was still talking with Motecusuma's envoys and preparing to dismiss them and rest (as his fever was returning) when word came that General Xicotencatl was approaching with several caziques. They wore cloaks, white and multicolored—half white, half colored—their traditional peacetime dress. About fifty distinguished men accompanied Xicotencatl. When they reached Cortés's quarters, they showed the deepest respect in their custom and burned copal before him. Cortés greeted them warmly and invited them to sit nearby, and then Xicotencatl spoke: “He came on behalf of his father, Maxixcatzin, and all the caziques of the Tlascallan republic, to ask for our friendship: in their name, he brought homage and pledged obedience to our emperor and lord, and begged forgiveness for having fought against us. They had done this because they didn't know who we were and thought we had been sent by their enemy Motecusuma, who had repeatedly used trickery and violence to enter their land for plunder. Fearing another such attack, they believed they had no choice but to take up arms for protection. However, they were very poor and possessed neither gold, silver, jewels, nor cotton goods: they even lacked salt, as Motecusuma forbade them to leave their territory for it. Their ancestors once had some gold and gems, but these had gradually been surrendered to Motecusuma to avoid destruction. That was long ago and now they had nothing left to offer as gifts. Their poverty, not ill will, was the cause—yet they were eager for good relations.”

After these preliminaries, Xicotencatl voiced further grievances against Motecusuma and his allies. “Those allies were all hostile to our country and never let us live in peace. Until now we had bravely defended ourselves, but all our efforts had been useless against you, though we fought three times; you were invincible. Bitter experience has taught us who you are, and now we wish to be your friends and the vassals of the great emperor Don Carlos; for we are convinced that, with you as allies, we can finally live safely with our families, instead of being vulnerable to the attacks of the treacherous Mexicans.”

Xicotencatl made various other offers of service on behalf of his people. This Xicotencatl was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a large, fresh-colored face full of scars as if marked by smallpox. He looked about thirty-five years old, and was dignified and serious. Cortés thanked him sincerely, saying, “He accepted them as vassals of our emperor, and from now on, would count them as friends.”

Xicotencatl then invited Cortés to the capital, where all the caziques, elders, and priests were eagerly awaiting us. Cortés agreed that he would do so soon, but first had business to finish with Motecusuma's ambassadors, after which he would visit them. Then, turning to them more sternly, he recounted the repeated attacks they'd made on us. He assured them he bore no grudge and freely forgave the past, but they must strictly keep the peace he now granted them, and never betray it. If they did, he would destroy their town and put its people to the sword, and from then on wage war against them without mercy to the very end. Xicotencatl and the others promised faithfully to keep their word, even offering themselves as hostages to prove their sincerity. There followed further conversation between Cortés, Xicotencatl, and the leading men present. We gave them blue beads for themselves, the elder Xicotencatl, and most of the caziques, assuring them we would soon visit their capital, which they should announce to their people.

The Mexican envoys were present for the entire exchange and heard the Tlascallans pledge their service to us—a turn of events that displeased them, knowing it would hurt their country. So, after Xicotencatl's departure, the Mexicans told Cortés with a knowing smile not to trust Tlascallan words or gestures. They assured him it was all deception and that treachery lay hidden behind their friendship. They claimed the Tlascallans only wished to lure us into their city to trap and destroy us. We should remember how often they had attacked us with their entire army. Now that open battle had failed and many of their people had died or been wounded, they would try a different approach with sweet words and a display of peace.

Cortés replied resolutely that he was not concerned about their intentions. If what the Mexicans claimed proved true, he would put all the Tlascallans to death. They might attack him by night or day, in the field or in the city—it made no difference. To see for himself, he was resolved to visit their capital. Seeing such determination, the Mexican ambassadors begged him to stay at his present camp for six days, so they could first send messengers to Motecusuma and return with his answer within that time.

Cortés agreed, in part because of his own illness, and in part because he thought the Mexicans' warnings might not be entirely unfounded. In those days, he could better discover the real intentions of the Tlascallans.

Now that everything appeared peaceful and the lands from Vera Cruz to our current camp were peopled by friendly tribes and allies, Cortés sent a letter to Juan de Escalante, left in garrison at Vera Cruz. He instructed him to finish the buildings, reported the great victories we had won since our arrival in Tlascalla, and how we had forced the people to make peace. He also told him to hold a thanksgiving, and in every way to favor our allies of the Totonaque mountains. Finally, he asked him to send two bottles of wine he had buried in a certain place there, and some holy wafers, since we had none left. Escalante responded quickly with all Cortés requested. You may well imagine the rejoicing in Vera Cruz at this news.

During these days, we erected a large cross at our camp, and Cortés had one of the nearby temples cleaned and replastered by the people of Zumpanzingo and other Indians. But, to return to the Tlascallan caziques: our delayed visit greatly troubled them, but they kept sending us fowls and figs, now just in season, and a daily supply of food. They did this with genuine goodwill and would not accept anything in return; rather, they urged Cortés more eagerly every day not to delay his visit. Cortés, though, preferred to wait the six days for the Mexican ambassadors' return, and each time put off the Tlascallans with a friendly excuse.

The Mexicans kept their word, and after six days, six noblemen arrived from Mexico with a rich gift from Motecusuma, worth over 3,000 pesos—gold trinkets of many kinds, two hundred pieces of cotton cloth inlaid with feathers, and other fine Mexican goods.

As they gave these presents to Cortés, they informed him that Motecusuma was very pleased by our success. However, he requested that we not bring any Tlascallans into his territory under any circumstances and, on the whole, not to trust them. He said they only wanted to rob us of our gold and other valuables, being poor themselves and having no good cotton cloaks. They were all the more eager for this, knowing we were friendly with them and had received gifts. Cortés accepted the presents with much appreciation, assuring them he would do Motecusuma good service in return—and if it turned out the Tlascallans meant to betray us, they would pay dearly for it. He trusted, though, that such thoughts were far from their minds and would soon visit in person to judge for himself.

In the middle of these discussions, several messengers from Tlascalla arrived, informing Cortés that all the senior caziques of the region were on their way to visit and escort us into their city. Upon hearing this, Cortés asked the Mexican ambassadors to remain with us three more days before returning to their king with his reply; for, at that moment, he was about to grant peace to the Tlascallan leaders.

## CHAPTER LXXIV. {.chapter}
*How the old caziques of Tlascalla arrived in our camp and invited Cortés and all of us to visit their city, and what happened next.*

The elder caziques of Tlascalla, seeing that we did not come to their city, decided to visit us themselves. They set out, some on foot and others riding in sedan chairs or a kind of hand-barrow. In addition to those I mentioned before (Maxixcatzin and the blind Xicotencatl, the elder), there were Guaxolacima, Chichimeclatecl, and Tecapaneca of Topoyanco. Their entourage included several other notable persons. When they came into Cortés’s presence, they showed him great respect, and to us as well, bowing three times. They also perfumed the air with copal, touched the ground with their hands, and kissed it.

The elder Xicotencatl then addressed Cortés as follows:

“Malinche! Malinche! We have often begged you to forgive our past attacks against you. We’ve already told you that we thought you were allied with Motecusuma. If we had known what we know now, not only would we not have refused you entry, but we would have met you halfway with supplies. In fact, we would have gone as far as the coast where your ships landed to escort you here. Since you have now graciously forgiven us, I have come with all the caziques to ask you to come to our city immediately, and to accept the warm welcome we are preparing for you to the best of our abilities. Please set aside all other business, Malinche, and come with us now. We are truly sorry that the Mexicans have poisoned your mind against us with lies, and that this alone kept you from visiting us. We are used to their slanders. Do not believe them, nor even listen to them, for all they say and do is filled with deceit.”

To this, Cortés replied with a calm smile, saying, “He had long known that someday we would come to this land. They were a brave people, and he was surprised they had treated us as enemies. As for the Mexicans now present, they were only waiting for his orders to return to their lord Motecusuma. He gladly accepted their invitation to visit their city and thanked them for the provisions and their other offers of kindness. They could count on our service in return. The only reason he had not visited sooner was that we lacked enough men to transport the tepuzques”—as they called our cannon. Hearing this, they were clearly pleased and immediately exclaimed, “Is that all? Why didn’t you tell us before?” And indeed, within half an hour, there were 500 porters ready, so that early the next morning we were able to set out for the capital of Tlascalla. We proceeded as usual, with the heavy artillery, the cavalry, the crossbowmen, and musketeers in close formation. Cortés had also asked the Mexican ambassadors to come along, so they could see for themselves the sincerity of the Tlascallans. To calm their concerns, he promised they would stay in his own quarters and not be disturbed.

Before continuing, I should explain why Cortés was called Malinche by all the tribes through whose territories we passed. From now on, I'll call him by that name, except where it would be inappropriate. The name was given to him because our interpreter Doña Marina was always at his side, especially when ambassadors visited or during talks with the caziques—in those situations, she interpreted for both parties. So, they called him “the captain of Marina,” which was shortened to Malinche. This name was also given to Juan Perez de Artenga of Puebla, since he always accompanied Doña Marina, and to Geronimo de Aguilar for similar reasons. The former was even known as Juan Perez Malinche. We entered the metropolis of Tlascalla twenty-four days after crossing their borders, on September 23rd, in the year of our Lord 1519.

## CHAPTER LXXV. {.chapter}
*How we marched into the city of Tlascalla, were received by the old caziques, received their gifts, were brought their daughters and nieces, and all that followed.*

When the caziques saw our baggage advancing, they hurried ahead to prepare for our reception and to decorate our quarters with green branches. About a mile outside their city, they came out to meet us again, bringing their daughters, nieces, and other important women, with those of the same family or tribe gathered together. Outside of Topoyanco, which was the fifth, there were four major tribes present. People from all the surrounding towns kept gathering as well, each distinguished by the colors of their traditional clothing—since they lacked cotton, their garments were still impressively and neatly woven from colored nequen. Next, all the papas—their priests—came out in great numbers from the temples. They carried incense burners with glowing embers and perfumed us. Some wore long white cloaks similar to surplices with capes like our canons. Their hair was long and matted, practically impossible to style without cutting, and matted with blood running over their ears, since they had just performed sacrifices that very day. Their fingernails were exceptionally long, and they kept their heads bowed in humility as they approached us. We were told these men were deeply respected for their religious status. The leading people formed a guard of honor around Cortés. As we entered town, crowds filled the streets and balconies, eager to see us: everyone looked delighted. They brought us twenty baskets of deliciously scented roses in various colors, which they presented to Cortés, our officers, and especially those on horseback. Eventually, we reached some large courtyards where our quarters had been made ready. Xicotencatl the elder and Maxixcatzin led Cortés by the hand to his room. Each of us had a separate bed filled with dried grass and covered with nequen blankets. Our friends from Sempoalla and Xocotlan were housed nearby in the same fashion. Cortés requested that Motecusuma’s ambassadors stay with him. We soon realized that goodwill and hospitality were abundant here, and so we relaxed our usual precautions. The officer responsible for setting the sentries and organizing patrols told Cortés that, since everything seemed so friendly, maybe we could forgo our strict watchfulness. “That may be true,” answered our general, “but we will not give up such a good habit. The people may be trustworthy, but we must not take peace for granted—always be on guard as if an attack could happen at any moment. Many a commander has been ruined by neglect and overconfidence. We are a small force, warned by Motecusuma himself (even if he did not speak sincerely), and we must be ready for anything at any time.”

The two chief caziques, Xicotencatl the elder and Maxixcatzin, were offended by our continued military precautions and did not hide their feelings, speaking frankly to Cortés: “Malinche, your actions suggest that you either consider us your enemies or at best still don’t trust us or the peace treaty between our peoples. You post guards and patrols as if we were still at war. This isn’t your idea—it's the Mexicans, whispering fears of betrayal and seeking to turn you against us. You can't trust what they say. You’re here among us; everything we have—our property, our lives, our children—is at your disposal, and we would die for you. Ask for as many hostages as you want; we will provide them.”

Cortés and all of us were moved by the kindness and dignity with which the old men spoke. Our captain replied that he required no hostages; he merely needed to see for himself that all was well. These military precautions were standard for us, and they should take no offense. He thanked them for their kindness and promised to serve them in return.

After this, other notable individuals arrived with provisions—fowls, maize bread, figs, and vegetables. Indeed, we had plenty to eat during the twenty days we stayed in the city.

## CHAPTER LXXVI. {.chapter}
*How mass was said before many caziques, and the present they gave us.*

Early the next morning, Cortés ordered an altar to be built and mass to be said, since we now again had wine and holy wafers. Father Olmedo was still unwell with fever, so the priest Juan Diaz said the mass. Maxixcatzin, Xicotencatl the elder, and several other caziques attended.

After mass, Cortés withdrew to his quarters, accompanied by those always near him, along with the old caziques and our interpreters. The elder Xicotencatl told Cortés that the people wanted to make him a gift, if he would accept it. Cortés replied that he would always gladly accept their gift. They then spread mats on the floor, covered with cloaks, and laid out five or six small gold pieces, a few stones of little value, and several bundles of woven nequen—a rather poor present, not worth twenty pesos. The caziques, smiling, said, “Malinche, we can imagine you are not very excited by such humble gifts, but as we’ve told you, we are poor. Motecusuma and his Mexicans have gradually taken all our wealth. Please do not look at the humble value, but accept them kindly, as gifts from your faithful friends and servants.” They gave us provisions as well.

Cortés accepted the gifts with every sign of pleasure and assured them that, coming from them and with such good will, these gifts were more valuable to him than a whole houseful of gold, and he would regard them as such. He added many other gracious words expressing his high esteem for them.

The caziques had also agreed among themselves to offer us their most beautiful daughters and nieces. Old Xicotencatl said to Cortés, “So that you will be even more sure of our goodwill and know how eager we are to please you, we have decided to offer you our daughters in marriage so that you may have children by them. We want a true kinship with such good and valiant men as you. I have a beautiful unmarried daughter whom I have chosen for you.”

Maxixcatzin and most of the other caziques said the same, urging us to take their daughters as wives, accompanied by many other friendly gestures. Maxixcatzin and Xicotencatl spent the whole day with us. The latter, being blind, touched Cortés’s hair, face, beard, and body to get an idea of his appearance.

Cortés replied regarding the women that he and all of us were grateful, and that we would find a way to repay their kindness at the first opportunity.

“What do you think,” Cortés asked Father Olmedo, “is this not the right time to ask these people to abolish their idols and human sacrifices? Out of fear of the Mexicans, they would likely do anything we asked.” “The time will come soon enough,” answered the priest, “when they bring us their daughters—then we can tell them we can’t accept until they promise to give up human sacrifice. If they agree, that’s well; if they refuse, we will know our duty to God and our faith.”

## CHAPTER LXXVII. {.chapter}
*How the caziques presented their daughters to Cortés and to us, and what happened next.*

The next day, the elder caziques returned, bringing five young women—handsome for native women and finely dressed—each with a waiting-maid, all daughters of caziques. Xicotencatl spoke to Cortés: “Malinche, this is my daughter; she is a maiden, never married—take her for yourself and give the others to your officers.”

Cortés accepted the young women and seemed pleased, but said they should remain with their families for now. The caziques asked why, and Cortés replied, “The only reason is that I must first fulfill my duty to the God we worship and to our emperor, which is to require you to give up your idols, human sacrifices, and all the abominations practiced here, and to urge you to believe in our one true God.” He told them much about our faith, with Doña Marina and Aguilar interpreting. These conversations happened frequently. Cortés also showed them an image of the Holy Virgin holding her divine Son, and explained it represented the Blessed Virgin Mary, now in heaven, mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, conceived by the Holy Ghost, virgin before, during, and after his birth, and now our intercessor with her divine Son.

He added many other things about our faith and concluded, “If you are truly our brothers, and sincerely want peace, and if we are to take your daughters as loving husbands, then you must abandon your cruel idols and believe in the Lord God we serve. If you do, blessings will follow—your lands will prosper, your people will flourish, and after death, your souls will reach heaven and eternal glory; but by sacrificing humans to idols—which are really only devils—you doom your souls to hell and endless torment.” For now, Cortés spoke no more on the matter, as he had often mentioned it before.

They replied, “Malinche, we have heard this from you before; we gladly believe that your God and this noble Lady are good beings. But you ought to keep in mind that you have only just arrived and just entered our city. Surely you should give us time to observe your conduct and the nature of your God and Lady. Once we understand their qualities, we may well choose what we believe is best. How can you ask us to give up the gods we’ve worshipped for generations? Even if we wished to please you, what would our priests, our warriors, even our children say? They would rebel. The priests have spoken to our teules, and they have warned not to stop human sacrifices or abandon ancient practices, else famine, plague, and war will destroy our land.”

From this direct and fearless response, it was clear that pressing the issue further would be pointless, and that they might rather die than give up their human sacrifices. Even Father Olmedo, a learned theologian, had to advise Cortés: “My opinion, sir, is that you should not press this on them. It is wrong to force people to become Christians. I even wish we hadn’t destroyed the idols at Sempoalla. This shouldn’t be done until the people know more about our faith. What do we accomplish by tearing down their idols? They can just go to another temple. Still, we should never stop teaching with piety, and the day will come when they see our intentions and advice are good.”

In this, the three cavaliers—Alvarado, Leon, and Lugo—agreed, telling Cortés that Father Olmedo was right, and it would be unwise to press the matter further with the caziques.

So the subject was dropped. Cortés limited himself to requesting that the idols be removed from a recently built local temple; it should be cleaned and newly plastered, and the image of the Blessed Virgin placed there. The caziques agreed, and when all was ready, mass was celebrated and the daughters of the caziques baptized. Xicotencatl’s daughter was named Doña Louisa. Cortés took her hand and presented her to Alvarado, saying to Xicotencatl that he was giving her to his brother, a chief officer and leader, who would treat her well and make her happy; Xicotencatl said he was content with this.

Maxixcatzin’s niece or daughter was named Doña Elvira. She was very beautiful, and, if I remember correctly, was given to Leon. The others went to Oli, Sandoval, and Avila, who all took Christian names with their brides, as was fitting for ladies of noble birth.

It was then explained to the caziques why we always put up two crosses wherever we camped for the night, telling them that their gods feared the crosses. The caziques listened with great attention. But before I continue, I must mention something more about Xicotencatl’s daughter, Doña Louisa, given to Alvarado.

The whole of Tlascalla took the greatest interest in her welfare, and honored her as a woman invested with command. Alvarado, who was a bachelor, got a son by her, who was named Don Pedro; and also a daughter, Doña Leonora, who is now the wife of Don Francisco de la Cueva, a cavalier of distinction, and a relation of the duke of Albuquerque. She is already the mother of four or five sons, all valiant cavaliers. She is an excellent lady, and a daughter worthy of such a father, who, as every one knows, is comptoir of Santjago and chief justice and viceroy of Guatimala; nor is she less worthy of the house of Xicotencatl, for the latter ranked very high in Tlascalla, and was looked upon as a king.

## CHAPTER LXXVIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes gained some information respecting Mexico from Xicotencatl and Maxixcatzin.*

One day, Cortes took the caziques aside and questioned them about Mexico's situation and affairs. Xicotencatl, being the more intelligent and distinguished, answered his questions, while Maxixcatzin, also a man of high rank, assisted occasionally.

“Motecusuma,” said Xicotencatl, “commanded such a vast army that whenever he set out to conquer a large township or invade a province, he would send 100,000 warriors into the field. We Tlascallans had often experienced this in our wars with the Mexicans, which have gone on for over 100 years.”

Cortes interrupted, asking, “How have you managed to avoid being completely subdued by such a vast army?” They replied, “It’s true, we have often been defeated by the Mexicans, losing many men who were either killed in battle or taken as prisoners to be sacrificed to their idols. But we have also slain many of the enemy and captured some ourselves. The Mexicans never approached us without us receiving advance warning of their movements. We always made every effort possible and could rely on help from the Huexotzincans, attacking the enemy or defending ourselves as needed. Another advantage was that the Mexicans were hated throughout the provinces and among all tribes that Motecusuma had conquered and plundered. The warriors forced to serve in his army fought reluctantly and without much courage. In this way, we defended our country as best as we could. Our greatest defeat came at the hands of the Cholullans, whose town is about a day’s march from Tlascalla. The people there are very deceitful. That town is where Motecusuma usually gathered his troops for campaigns, and from where they often marched under the cover of night.”

Maxixcatzin added, “Motecusuma kept strong garrisons in every town, in addition to the warriors he would send out from his capital. Every province had to pay him tribute of gold, silver, feathers, precious stones, cotton cloth, as well as men and women: some taken into his service, others sacrificed. He was such a powerful and wealthy monarch that he achieved and obtained everything he desired. His palaces were filled with riches and chalchihuis stones, which he seized wherever he went. In short, all the wealth of the land was in his hands.”

They continued to speak of the magnificence and splendor of his court with such detail that, if I tried to repeat all they told us, I would never finish; as well as the number of his wives—some of whom he would from time to time give in marriage to his relatives—the great strength of Mexico City, how it sat in the middle of a lake, and the great depth of the water. Several causeways led to the city, intersected at different points and connected by wooden bridges, under which canoes could pass. If these bridges were removed, the sections between them became islands and completely cut off access to the city. Most of the city’s houses were built over the water, and it was possible to get from one building to another only by drawbridges or canoes. Each house had balconies, provided with a kind of breastwork, so inhabitants could defend themselves from the rooftops. Yet the whole town was well supplied with fresh water from the spring at Chapultepec, about two miles from the city. Water was partly piped in, partly brought by boats through the canals, then sold to the inhabitants.

As for weapons, the Mexicans used double-edged lances they threw with a thong that could pierce any cuirass. They were also excellent archers, and used pikes with obsidian blades, finely made and as sharp as razors. They carried shields and wore cotton armor. They also had many slingers armed with round stones, long pikes, and sharp swords used with both hands.

To explain all this, they brought large pieces of nequen cloth showing depictions of their battles and war tactics. When Cortes and the rest of us felt we had learned enough, the conversation turned to matters of greater importance. Our friends told us how they had come into the country and settled, and why, despite their proximity to the Mexicans, they were so different and always at war with them. They shared a tradition from their ancestors, that long ago there had been a race of men and women here of immense stature, with heavy bones, who were evil and bad-tempered. Through constant war, they had mostly destroyed these giants, and the few who remained had gradually died out.

To show us how huge these people were, they brought out a bone, a thigh bone of one of these giants, which was massive and as long as a tall man. The bone was whole, from knee to hip joint. I measured it against myself, and it was as long as I am tall, and I am a tall man. They showed us more bones, but most were worm-eaten and decayed. Still, we didn’t doubt for a moment that giants had inhabited this land. Cortes said we ought to send these bones to his majesty in Spain at the first opportunity.

The caziques also spoke of another tradition handed down from their ancestors. A certain god, whom they highly honored, told them that one day people would come from the rising sun, from distant countries, who would rule over them. If we were those people, they said, they would rejoice, for we were brave and good-hearted. This old prophecy also came up when we negotiated peace with them, and they had offered us their daughters to cement an alliance and gain our help against the Mexicans; which they had told their idols.

We were all astonished at these accounts, and asked each other in amazement if all they said could be true. Cortes replied, “Indeed, we come from the rising sun. The emperor, our master, sent us that we might become your brothers, for he already had some knowledge of your land. May God in His mercy let us be the means of saving you from eternal damnation!” To which we all answered, “Amen!”

The reader will, no doubt, have heard enough of our conversations with the people of Tlascalla, and I will gladly move on, as I have much more to tell.

Among other things, I must mention the burning mountain of Huexotzinco. While we were in Tlascalla, it began emitting more flames than usual. Cortes and all of us, being unfamiliar with volcanoes, were amazed. Diego de Ordas, one of our chief officers, boldly decided to inspect this wonder and asked our general’s permission to climb the mountain, which Cortes granted.

Ordas took two Spaniards with him and asked some leading men of Huexotzinco to join them. Though the locals did not refuse, they tried to dissuade him, warning that once he got halfway up Popocatepetl, as they called the volcano, he would be unable to proceed because of the trembling earth, blazing flames, and falling stones and ashes. They never dared to go higher than a certain point where temples stood to the gods of Popocatepetl. They left Ordas at that spot, but he and our two soldiers pressed on until they reached the summit.

As they climbed, the volcano spewed huge flames, half-burnt, perforated stones, and great heaps of ash, shaking the mountain to its base. They waited for an hour, then, when the smoke and flames lessened and there was less ash, they continued to the crater, which was perfectly round and about a mile wide. From the summit, they could see Mexico City, its lake, and all the surrounding towns, as the mountain is only about forty-eight miles away.

After Ordas had fully observed everything and marveled at the sight of Mexico and its suburbs, he returned with the two Spaniards and the Huexotzinco men to Tlascalla. The locals saw this as an extremely risky feat, and we Spaniards, never having seen a volcano before, were astonished by Ordas’s account. Indeed, at that time it could rightly be called a hazardous venture! Later, other Spaniards and some Franciscan friars climbed to the volcano’s mouth, but Ordas was the first to dare it. When he later returned to Spain, he asked the king for permission to put a volcano on his coat of arms. His nephew, who lives at Puebla, now bears these arms. While we stayed there, we never again saw the volcano erupt with so much fire or make such thunderous noise; it was not until the year 1539 that it erupted like that again.

Enough now about the mountain; we now know what it is. Later, we saw many other volcanoes, such as those in Nicaragua and Guatemala, so that of Huexotzinco no longer seems remarkable. I should note that in Tlascalla, we found wooden houses shaped like cages, in which many Indians of both sexes were kept and fattened for sacrifices and feasts. We did not hesitate for a moment to break them open and free the prisoners. These poor people would not leave our side, as it was the only way to save their lives. Afterwards, Cortes ordered these cages broken open wherever we found them—every township had them. We all showed our horror at such atrocities and sternly reproved the caziques, who then promised to stop killing and eating humans. I say they promised, but that was all—for if we turned our backs for a moment, the same barbarities would be committed. Now, it is high time to speak of our march to Mexico.

## CHAPTER LXXIX. {.chapter}
*How our captain Hernando Cortes and all our officers and soldiers determine to march to Mexico.*

We had now been in Tlascalla for seventeen days and had heard so much about the immense treasures of Motecusuma and the splendor of his capital that Cortes decided to call a council about marching to Mexico. He gathered all the officers and soldiers whom he thought willing to go forward. In this council of war, it was decided that we should march without delay. Still, there were differing opinions in camp. Many thought it reckless to venture, with so few men, into a heavily fortified city whose ruler commanded such vast numbers of warriors. But Cortes insisted there was no use arguing—our resolve was set, and we had always expressed our desire to pay our respects personally to Motecusuma. When those who opposed the plan saw how determined he was, and how most of us were devoted to him, shouting, “Forward—now or never!” they stopped objecting. The ones who opposed us were those with property in Cuba; we poorer soldiers were ready to risk our lives in battle and endure every hardship for God and our king. 

When Xicotencatl and Maxixcatzin saw that we were determined to march to Mexico, they grew anxious for us. They urgently tried to dissuade Cortes, warning him not to trust Motecusuma or any of the Mexicans—nothing should be believed of their supposed respect, courteous words, or displays of friendship. All their professions of goodwill and even their gifts hid treachery. What they gave one moment they would take away the next. We were warned to remain constantly alert, day and night, for the Mexicans would attack us when we were least prepared. In battle, we were to show no mercy: kill the young so they could not fight us again, and the old so they could not harm us through their counsel.

They gave many such warnings. Our captain showed them gratitude for their concern and treated them and the other caziques with every courtesy, even giving them a significant share of the fine goods that Motecusuma had sent as gifts. Cortes remarked that the best thing would be to establish peace and friendship between them and the Mexicans, so that they wouldn’t have to go without cotton, salt, and other goods.

Xicotencatl replied promptly, “With the Mexicans, peace is just for show—enmity remains in their hearts. They excel at plotting foul treacheries even under the pretense of profound peace. No confidence should be put in their promises; their words are empty. I cannot urge you too strongly to watch out for the traps set by this treacherous people.”

Then we considered which route to take to Mexico. Motecusuma’s ambassadors, who were still with us and wanted to act as guides, claimed the best and most level road went through Cholulla, whose people, as Motecusuma’s subjects, would help us.

We all agreed that this was the way to go, but the Tlascallan caziques were distressed by our decision. They insisted we should go by Huexotzinco, whose people were their friends and relatives, and not by Cholulla, where Motecusuma usually laid his traps. Despite their arguments, Cortes stood by his decision to go through Cholulla. He chose this route because, by all accounts, the town was heavily populated, with many beautiful towers and large pyramids and temples, in a lovely valley surrounded by well-provisioned towns. At that time, Cholulla even looked from a distance as majestic as our city of Valladolid in Old Castile. In Cholulla, too, we would have our Tlascallan allies nearby, and it seemed the best location to plan our approach to Mexico City without clashing with its main armies. For, in truth, if God had not mercifully helped us with his heavenly strength, we could never have accomplished what we did!

After long discussion, the route through Cholulla was decided upon. Cortes sent word to its inhabitants, especially since, being so near, they hadn’t sent any ambassadors or shown us the attention due to us as representatives of our mighty king, who had their welfare at heart. He summoned all caziques and priests of the town to present themselves at our quarters and swear allegiance to our king, or be considered our enemies.

While Cortes was sending this message and making other preparations, it was reported to him that four ambassadors had arrived with gold gifts from the powerful Motecusuma, who never sent messengers without presenting gifts—they would have considered it an insult otherwise. I will relate in the following chapter what their message was.

## CHAPTER LXXX. {.chapter}
*How the great Motecusuma despatched four ambassadors to us, all men in high authority, with presents in gold and cotton stuffs, and what they said to our captains.*

When Cortes received the four ambassadors, they greeted him and the surrounding warriors with the deepest respect, laying before him the gifts—valuable gold pieces of various designs worth about 10,000 pesos, and ten bundles of cotton cloth beautifully interwoven with feathers. Our general received these with a friendly smile. The ambassadors then said that their king was surprised we had stayed so long among such poor and uncivilized people—people unfit even to be slaves, vicious, treacherous, and thievish—who, at some unexpected moment, would surely try to kill us for plunder. Motecusuma begged us to come to his own city, where at least we could enjoy some of its good things, though these might not meet our deserved standard, nor even what he wished they could be. We would be regularly provided with necessary goods, though much had to be brought into the city from other places.

These offers of friendship were really bait from Motecusuma, trying to get us out of Tlascalla—he knew we were close allies of its people, and that the caziques had even offered the daughters of Malinche and his officers to strengthen that tie. He could only assume that no good would come to the Mexicans from our alliance with Tlascalla, and thus, he hoped to entice us with gold and other gifts to enter his territory—or at least to get us to leave the land of the Tlascallans.

The Tlascallans knew these ambassadors personally, telling our captain they were important men and landed nobility, with subjects of their own. Motecusuma only sent them on his most important missions. Cortes warmly thanked them for their courtesy and for the expressions of friendship on their king’s behalf, and told them that soon he would pay his respects to him. He then invited them to stay with us for some time.

Around this time Cortes also sent two chief officers ahead to speak with Motecusuma, view Mexico City, and examine its strong fortifications and other defences. These officers were Alvarado and Vazquez de Tapia. They set out on their journey, and the four ambassadors who brought the gold remained with us as hostages. Our two officers traveled with other messengers who had come earlier. I was at that time suffering from a severe wound and fever, without medicine, so I do not recall how far these two went. But I do remember that word quickly spread that Cortes had sent them ahead to Mexico, and this decision met with widespread disapproval. We felt that nothing could result from it except a quick look at the city; so an order was soon sent after them to call them back to camp. They returned quickly, as Tapia had become ill with fever on the road. The ambassadors told Motecusuma about this, and he was eager to know what these two teules—these Spanish officers—looked like and whether they were indeed commanders. The ambassadors described Alvarado as a man whose face was especially handsome and noble, shining like the sun, and confirmed he was an officer. They even made a faithful likeness of him and gave him the name *Tonatio*, meaning the *Sun, son of the Sun*. Of Tapia, they said he was a man of commanding presence, strong, and likewise a chief officer. Motecusuma was disappointed to hear of their return; his ambassadors, however, had accurately described their appearance and rank: for Alvarado was beautiful in form, noble in bearing, pleasant in speech, and always had a smile, while Tapia, despite his powerful appearance, carried himself nobly.

We were quite pleased when they returned to our quarters, and we made no secret of our opinion that sending them was not the wisest thing Cortes had done. But I will say nothing more of that—it’s not crucial to my history.

## CHAPTER LXXXI. {.chapter}
*How the inhabitants of Cholula sent four Indians of low status to us to apologize for not visiting us in Tlascala, and what happened next.*

I mentioned in the previous chapter that our captain had sent a message to Cholula, inviting the people there to visit us in Tlascala. When the local leaders received this message, they simply sent four Indians of low rank and apologized for not coming themselves, claiming to be unwell. These messengers brought neither provisions nor anything else; in a few brief words they offered only the excuse I just mentioned.

The Tlascala chiefs who were present when these messengers arrived were surprised by their appearance and remarked to Cortés that this message was truly an insult to him and all of us, since these messengers were *Macehuales*, ordinary people of low standing.

This incident led Cortés to send four Indians from Sempoala to Cholula, instructing them to tell the inhabitants that he expected an embassy from them within three days, made up of men of rank and authority. The distance between them and him was only twenty miles, and if no one appeared within the stated time, he would consider the town of Cholula to be in rebellion against us. If, however, the required embassy did show up, he intended to share important matters with them—matters for their spiritual salvation and for their general well-being—and would then consider them friends and brothers, just as he did the Tlascala people. However, if they were completely against our proposals and did not value our friendship, we would not bother them with our presence.

When the people of Cholula received this friendly message, they replied that their reason for not coming to Tlascala was that they were enemies of its people and knew well how they, along with their ruler Motecusuma, had been maligned by the Tlascala. They said that if we would just leave the town of Tlascala and cross out of its province, and if they then failed to treat us as they should, we could judge them as we had threatened, and act accordingly.

Our captain considered this excuse quite reasonable, so we decided to march to Cholula. When the Tlascala leaders saw that our decision was made, they spoke to Cortés as follows: “So you put more trust in what the Mexicans say than in us, your friends? We have often warned you to be especially careful with the people of Cholula, and with the power of Mexico generally; but so that you will have help in case you need it, we have armed 10,000 of our warriors to go with you.”

Cortés thanked these good men for their kind intentions and discussed with us whether it was wise to enter a country, whose friendship we hoped to gain, with so large an army. After careful consideration, we decided that 2,000 men would be enough to join us, so Cortés requested only that many, and the rest had to stay behind.

## CHAPTER LXXXII. {.chapter}
*How we arrived in the town of Cholula, and the grand reception we received.*

Early one morning we broke camp and set out for Cholula. We marched in the best order possible, since, as I have mentioned, we always took extra precautions wherever we suspected possible hostility. On the first day, we reached a river about four miles on this side of Cholula, where we camped for the night at a place where there is now a stone bridge. Huts and dining areas had been set up for our use.

That same night, ambassadors arrived from the Cholula leaders, all men of high rank, to welcome us to their land. They brought provisions—fowls and maize bread—and told us that all the chiefs and priests would soon come to give us a proper welcome, and asked us to excuse them for not coming out immediately. Cortés, through Doña Marina and Aguilar, thanked them for the food and their good intentions; then we lay down to rest after posting the necessary sentries and organizing the patrols.

At dawn, we set out again and marched straight toward the town, just outside of which we were met by the chiefs, priests, and many other Indians who had come to greet us. Most wore a kind of cotton cloak, shaped similarly to our marlotas. These cloaks were also used by the Capoteca Indians. They all appeared friendly and well-disposed toward us. The priests carried earthen censers to offer incense to our officers and the soldiers nearest to them.

When the priests and chiefs saw the Tlascala warriors who had come with us, they asked Doña Marina to remind Cortés that it was not appropriate for their enemies to enter the town armed. Cortés then ordered the officers and all of us to halt and spoke as follows: “I think, gentlemen, before we enter Cholula, we should, through kind words, try to find out what these priests and chiefs really intend. They seem upset that our Tlascala friends are with us, and they do have a fair point; so it is my intention to explain to them, kindly, the reasons for our coming to their city. You already know, from the Tlascala, that these people are naturally treacherous; so it is wisest for us to first have them swear loyalty to our king.”

He then asked Doña Marina to call the chiefs and priests around him where he sat on horseback, with all of us standing close by. Three leading chiefs and two priests soon came before Cortés and addressed him as follows: “Malinche, please don’t be suspicious of us for not coming to Tlascala to welcome you, or for not sending provisions. We did not lack good intentions toward you, but Maxixcatzin, Xicotencatl, and all of Tlascala are our enemies. They have harshly slandered us and our great monarch, and now, not satisfied with words, they dare to come armed to the edge of our city under your protection. We beg you to order them to return to their own country, or at least to have them remain in the fields instead of entering our city in this way. The rest of you are welcome to enter whenever you wish.”

Once our captain heard this reasonable request, he sent for Alvarado and Oli and told them to ask the Tlascala to set up their huts and quarters outside the town, and not to come in with us, except for those who were carrying our heavy artillery and our friends from Sempoala. These officers were also to explain why this was necessary and the fear in which the chiefs and priests held the Tlascala; they were to let them know on what day we would start our march through Cholula to Mexico, and lastly, tell them not to feel upset about this change.

When the people of Cholula saw how Cortés handled the situation with the Tlascala, they appeared more at ease; after this, Cortés explained to them that our king and master, whose subjects we were, was a powerful monarch who ruled over many great kings and chiefs. We were sent by him to tell them, in his name, that from now on they must not worship idols, make human sacrifices, eat human flesh, or commit unnatural crimes and other evils. We had come to their town because the road to Mexico went through it, and we wanted to meet the great Motecusuma; but we also wanted to consider the Cholula people as brothers. Cortés added that other leading chiefs had already sworn loyalty and submission to our king, and he hoped they would do the same.

They replied that we were asking a lot; we had hardly met them before asking them to get rid of their gods, which they could not do. However, with respect to giving homage to our king, they were willing to agree to this. So they verbally promised loyalty, but not with the usual formalities before a royal notary; upon this agreement, we entered the city of Cholula. The rooftops and streets were crowded with people eager to see us. And who could blame them? They had never before seen men like us, nor any horses! Through these crowds we were led to our quarters, several large rooms where all of us, our friends from Sempoala, and the Tlascala who carried our baggage, had plenty of space. We were immediately provided with plenty of good food.

## CHAPTER LXXXIII. {.chapter}
*How the inhabitants of Cholula devised a plan, at the instigation of Motecusuma, to murder us all, and what further happened.*

The grand reception we received at Cholula was, at first, genuinely well-meant and honest on the part of the inhabitants. Yet things changed rapidly. Motecusuma, through his ambassadors, secretly plotted with the Cholulans to destroy us. The inhabitants were ordered to arm themselves in secret and coordinate with 20,000 of his troops, who were already on their way. These troops would slip quietly into Cholula, join forces, and attack us by surprise, harassing us both day and night. The goal was to take as many of us prisoner as possible and send us bound to Mexico. These orders were given along with lavish promises and gifts, such as jewels and a golden drum. The papas were also instructed to sacrifice twenty of us to their idols.

Everything was carefully planned, and the trap was ready to spring. Motecusuma’s troops were partly hidden in the woods about two miles outside Cholula, while others had been secretly admitted to the homes of the Cholulans. All the forces were well-armed. The balconies of houses had been reinforced with breastworks, the streets barricaded with heaps of earth and dug with deep holes, all meant to render our cavalry useless. Some homes were filled with neck-straps, twisted hide ropes, and long poles meant to bind us and transport us to Mexico. But Providence decided otherwise, and all their plans were doomed to fail, as the reader will soon learn.

For now, we were lodged in good quarters and received ample provisions for the first few days. Even though all appeared peaceful, we did not let down our guard, maintaining our excellent practice of vigilance. Indeed, signs of change soon became apparent. By the third day, we received no provisions, nor did any cazique or papa visit us. If any Indian came near our quarters, they did so mockingly, as if hinting that something unexpected was about to happen. Cortes, recognizing this, asked the ambassadors of Motecusuma—who were still with us—to instruct the caziques to bring us provisions as usual. Some wood and water were brought, but the old man who delivered them claimed there was no more maize in Cholula. That same day, more ambassadors from Motecusuma arrived, joining those already staying with us. They delivered their monarch’s message to Cortes with little courtesy, even impudence, stating that Motecusuma wished us not to come to his city, as he could not provide for us there. They demanded an immediate reply since they were eager to return to Mexico. Seeing the unpleasant turn of events, Cortes responded with caution and politeness, saying how greatly he was surprised that such a powerful monarch as Motecusuma would change his mind so often. He requested they delay their return until the next day so he could decide how far we could comply with their king's wishes.

If I recall correctly, he also gave them some strings of glass beads. In any case, they promised to stay until the next day.

Once the meeting ended, Cortes gathered us together, instructing us to be particularly vigilant, as he was certain the inhabitants had some wicked intent. He summoned the main cazique, whose name escapes me, and asked him to come in person or send a representative. The reply was that he was ill and that neither he nor any other chief could attend.

Seeing how affairs were turning, Cortes ordered two papas to be brought from a nearby cu where several other papas were assembled. This was done with full respect for their rank.

Cortes greeted each of them with a chalchihuis, a stone as precious to them as an emerald is to us. He then gently asked what had caused the fear among the caziques, chiefs, and papas, and why they would not visit us, even though we had invited them. One of these papas seemed to be of higher status—almost like a bishop—presiding over all the cues of the town and held in deep veneration by the people. This chief priest replied that the papas feared nothing from us; if the cazique and other chiefs would not come, he himself would invite them and was sure they would promptly appear.

Cortes asked him to do so, while he detained the other papa. Before long, this head priest returned to our quarters with the caziques and other local dignitaries. Cortes asked why they were avoiding us and not sending provisions, adding that if our stay was burdensome to them, he would lead us out the very next morning to Mexico to pay our respects to Motecusuma. All he asked was that they provide enough porters for our baggage and artillery, and send us provisions.

The chief was so embarrassed that he could hardly speak, but finally promised to send provisions, while adding that Motecusuma had ordered him to withhold them and to prevent us from proceeding further.

During this exchange, three of our Sempoallan allies slipped in and quietly told Cortes they’d found deep holes in the street near our quarters. These holes were thinly covered with sticks and earth, easy to miss unless inspected closely. They had cleared away the covering of one hole and discovered sharp stakes at the bottom, clearly intended to injure our horses if they fell in. They also noted piles of stones on top of houses, which had been fortified with brick breastworks. Preparations for an attack were obvious, with another street barricaded by large wooden beams. At that very moment, eight Tlascallans arrived from their camp outside the town and said to Cortes, "Are you unaware, Malinche, of the betrayal being planned here? We have learned that the Cholullans last night sacrificed seven people to their war god, including five children, to ask for victory against you. Not only that, but they have sent all their belongings, wives, and children out of town."

Hearing this, Cortes told the men to return to their camp and instruct their chiefs to be ready to enter the city at a moment's notice. He then turned to the cazique, papas, and chiefs of Cholula and told them not to be afraid; but if they broke their promise to our monarch, he would have to punish them. He reminded them we planned to leave for Mexico in the morning and would need 2,000 of their warriors to join our ranks, as the Tlascallans had done.

The chiefs assured Cortes they would provide the warriors and porters he requested, then left to make preparations. They seemed utterly confident, believing we could not stand against their combined forces or Motecusuma’s army lying in ambush. They blocked all exits from the town, intending to trap us in the narrow streets as we set out the following morning. Every man was told to carry out his assigned task at the right time. They even planned to send 2,000 men ahead, counting on our ignorance of their plot to easily capture and bind us for transport to Mexico. Their faith in success was unwavering, especially as their war god had promised them victory.

While they were certain of triumph, Cortes was determined to uncover more of their plot. He instructed Doña Marina to further present chalchihuis stones to the two papas he’d already spoken with, and to tell them that Malinche wanted another meeting. Doña Marina was very skilled in such matters and, aided by the gifts, persuaded them to join her in our general’s quarters. There, Cortes urged them to honestly reveal everything, reminding them of their duties as priests and men of standing, and assuring them that he would not betray their trust. He also made them generous promises. The papas then confessed that Motecusuma was deeply undecided about whether to let us move toward his capital—he changed his mind several times a day. At first, he had ordered that when we arrived at Cholula, we were to be treated with utmost respect and escorted to his city. At other times, he sent word forbidding our entry to Mexico. Now, his gods, Tetzcatlipuca and Huitzilopochtli—whom he wholly trusted—advised him to kill or capture us in Cholula. The day before, he had sent 20,000 warriors, half of whom were already hidden within the town, the other half in the nearby mountain passes. These troops had been told of our planned departure, the method of attack, and of the 2,000 Cholullans who would march with us. Twenty of our men were to be sacrificed to the idols.

After hearing all this, Cortes gave both papas some beautiful cloaks and told them to keep silent about this conversation, warning that if they revealed anything upon his return from Mexico, they would lose their lives. That night, our general called a council of war with the most sensible and experienced soldiers in our small army to discuss our options. As often happens in such circumstances, opinions were divided. Some suggested we change our route entirely and go by way of Huexotzinco; others advised seeking peace at all costs and returning to Tlascala. Others of us argued that if we left the Cholullans' treachery unpunished, the Mexicans would attempt even greater harm elsewhere—and now that we had established ourselves in this land, it would be better for hostilities to break out here, where provisions were plentiful and we could do more damage than in open country. We would also immediately inform the Tlascallans and invite them to join us in battle.

In the end, this plan was unanimously agreed to, and the next morning was set for our departure. We packed our kits—which was not a hard job, as we had little baggage. Our attack on the Indians was to be staged in the large square next to our quarters, which was surrounded by high walls, so we could punish them appropriately. As for Motecusuma's ambassadors, we simply told them that a conspiracy against us had been discovered, falsely blamed on Motecusuma and his envoys. We said we could not believe this, but that for now, they were to remain in our general's quarters and avoid any further contact with the townspeople, to ease our suspicions. They would also serve as our guides on the way to Mexico.

The ambassadors assured us that neither Motecusuma nor they knew anything of what had been said. Nevertheless, we placed a guard on them, fearing they might slip away and inform Motecusuma how we discovered the plot.

That night, we were on especially high alert and fully armed. The horses were saddled and bridled, strong watches posted everywhere; patrols circled continually, for we felt sure we would be attacked that night by the combined forces of Mexico and Cholula. We received further confirmation from an old Indian woman, the wife of a cazique, who took pity on the youth and good looks of Doña Marina (knowing she had many valuable possessions) and persuaded her to come away to avoid the imminent massacre. This woman said we were all to be killed that night or the next day, acting under peremptory orders from Motecusuma, who had sent a Mexican army to join the Cholullans and kill all but those they could take prisoner for transport to Mexico. Out of compassion, she revealed this. She urged Marina to quickly gather her belongings and come live at her home, promising she would have her second son as a husband.

Doña Marina, who was very clever, answered, “I thank you for your warning, good mother; I would go right now if I could find someone to carry my mantles and gold trinkets, for I have a lot. So I ask you and your son to wait a little while, and we will leave together at night—these strangers have spies everywhere.”

The woman trusted this explanation, and waited with her son. Doña Marina used the time to ask further questions about how the attack was to happen and when the plot had been made. All the old woman's answers matched what the papas had told us. Marina asked her how she knew such guarded information. "I know it from my husband," she replied, "who commands one of the town's quarters. He has gone to help with preparations and to join the Mexicans in the mountain passes. He received a golden drum and the other chiefs fine cloaks and gold, along with orders to bind the strangers and send them to Mexico."

Doña Marina concealed her true feelings, replying, “How glad I am to learn your son is of high rank! We’ve been discussing secrets—let me pack up, and you and your son, my new brothers, must help me escape.”

The old woman believed her, settling in a specific spot with her son. Meanwhile, Doña Marina explained everything to Cortes. He immediately summoned the old woman and questioned her further about Cholula’s plans, which fully matched the papas’ revelations. Cortes ordered her kept under close guard so she could not inform her companions.

At dawn, the confidence and contempt displayed by the caziques, papas, and other Indians was obvious—they looked as though they felt sure we had fallen into their trap. More of their troops than we requested were sent, but there was still enough space to fit all of them, and us, in the square by our quarters, which can be visited to this day as a reminder of that bloody day. Although their troops arrived very early, we were already prepared.

The main gate to the walled square was held by our men with swords and shields, with orders to let no armed Indian leave. Our general mounted his horse, guarded by several of us, and when he saw how eager the caziques, papas, and warriors were to gather, he cried out loudly: “How eager these traitors are to get us among the passes and feast on our flesh! But God will decide things differently from what they expect!”

He asked after the two papas who revealed the conspiracy, and was told they were waiting outside with other caziques, wanting to be let in. Cortes sent our interpreter, Aguilar, to tell them to return home, as he had no need of them at that time. This was to keep them safe during the attack as thanks for their help.

Our general, on horseback with Doña Marina at his side, then sternly rebuked the caziques and papas: "Why did you try to murder us last night, when we had done you no harm? Had we said or done anything to justify such betrayal? I had only urged you, as I did with every tribe we passed, to give up human sacrifice and cannibalism, to avoid unnatural crimes, and to live more virtuously. I spoke only to you about our holy faith, meaning you no injury. Why did you collect all those long poles, nooses, and ropes in the building near the great cue? Why barricade the streets and dig pits, fortify your rooftops, and send your families and property out of the city? All these things betray your treacherous intent. You even refused to supply us food, only mocking us with water and wood as though to say you had no maize. I know that large numbers of your warriors are hiding in the passes around your city, waiting for us to head to Mexico. More joined during the night. For our kindness in treating you as brothers and sharing what God and our sovereign instructed, you have plotted to kill and eat us, for which you have already prepared your pots, salt, peppers, and tomatoes! If you planned to kill us, why not attack openly on the field like your neighbors the Tlascallans did? I know all your plans, including the sacrifice of twenty of us to your god of war; and that three nights ago you offered up seven of your own people, seeking victory over us. But your gods’ promises are nothing but lies. They have no power over us, and all your treacherous schemes will backfire."

When the caziques, papas, and chiefs heard this—all skillfully interpreted by Doña Marina—they admitted it was all true, but claimed they were not responsible; everything had been ordered by Motecusuma and his ambassadors. Cortes retorted, "Spanish law does not allow such betrayal to go unpunished; you will pay for it with your lives." At that moment, he ordered a cannon fired as the signal for us to attack.

Many of them were killed with the sword, and some were burned alive to show the falseness of their gods. Within two hours, the Tlascallans stormed in from their camp, fighting bravely in the streets with Cholula’s warriors. They fanned out for prisoners and plunder, and we could not stop them. The next day, more Tlascallan troops arrived and caused even more destruction, their hatred for Cholula being deep. Eventually, we took pity and ordered them to stop the slaughter. Cortes summoned all the chiefs he could and requested them to return to camp, which they did—only the Sempoallans remained in the city.

During all this, some caziques and papas from other parts of town came to us, saying they had no part in the plot. This may have been true, as each quarter of this large city had its own regiment and customs. They begged for pardon, supported by our two friendly papas and by the old woman who had almost become Doña Marina’s mother-in-law.

Cortes was at first reluctant to listen to them, but eventually summoned Motecusuma’s ambassadors, who had been confined. He told them that although the whole town deserved destruction, he would show mercy for Motecusuma’s sake, but expected future goodwill—or, failing that, they would pay with their lives. He also called for the Tlascallan chiefs and told them to free their prisoners, as revenge had gone far enough. It took effort to convince the Tlascallans, since they felt the Cholullans deserved more for past wrongs, but they obeyed and released many captives, though they carried away much loot—gold, cloaks, cotton, salt, and other things.

Cortes then arranged a reconciliation between the two peoples, and, as far as I know, the peace held thereafter. He instructed the caziques and papas to have all inhabitants return home and to reopen the tiangues (markets), promising no further harm would be done. The chiefs agreed and promised the villagers would return in five days, explaining many had fled to the woods. They also worried Cortes might appoint an unwanted cazique in place of the one killed during the fight. Our general simply asked who the rightful successor was, and when told it was the late chief’s brother, he made him governor.

Once the population returned and markets were running, Cortes assembled the papas, chiefs, and leading citizens to explain our holy religion and urge them to end idol-worship and human sacrifice, as well as their other abominations. He showed them the falsehood and powerlessness of their idols and reminded them of the empty promises about victory. He asked them to pull down these lying idols, or let us do it if they would not. In the meantime, he ordered one of their temples cleared and freshly plastered so we could set up a chapel and erect a cross. This seemed to cheer them up, and they solemnly promised to destroy their idols, though they kept delaying whenever we reminded them. On this point, Father Olmedo reassured Cortes, arguing that it would do little good for the natives to smash their idols unless they first understood our faith. We should wait to see what impact our march on Mexico would have. For now, we had done enough by encouraging them to piety and by putting up the cross.

Regarding the city of Cholula, I should add: it lies in a valley and is surrounded by so many towns—Tepeaca, Tlascala, Chalco, Tecamachalco, Huexotzinco, and others—that I cannot list them all. The region produced much maize, various beans, and especially maguey, whose sap the locals used for wine. The city also produced a great variety of earthenware pots glazed black and white, for sale in Mexico and nearby provinces. In this, Cholula was as famous locally as Talavera and Valencia in Spain. At that time, Cholula boasted over a hundred extremely tall towers, every one a cue or temple where sacrifices and idol worship took place. The principal temple here was even taller than Mexico’s, although Mexico’s was certainly magnificent and high. This temple reportedly had a hundred courts and an idol of vast size (its name slips my memory), highly venerated, with worshippers coming from many places to sacrifice or offer gifts for their dead. I remember when we first came to the city, looking up at those white temples towering above, it strongly reminded us of Valladolid.

A word on Motecusuma’s troops: they had hidden themselves just outside town and set up stakes and deep holes to hinder our cavalry. But once they heard what happened, they retreated instantly to Mexico to report to Motecusuma. However quickly they withdrew, we were immediately notified by two notable persons who were with us. Motecusuma was extremely angered and troubled by the news. He immediately ordered many Indians to be sacrificed to his war god, Huitzilopochtli, to seek guidance on whether to stop us from reaching Mexico or welcome us peacefully. For two days, he and his papas fasted and held sacrifices. Finally, the gods advised him to send us ambassadors to apologize for Cholula and to allow us into Mexico with every sign of friendship—but, once inside the city, to deny us food and water, destroy the bridges, pen us in, and then kill us to the last man. Only then were the great sacrifices to be held in honor of Huitzilopochtli, who gave the oracle, and of Tetzcatlipuca, god of the underworld. Our legs, arms, and thighs were to be eaten at their feast, the rest thrown to the serpents and tigers they kept in wooden cages, as I will describe later.

It can be imagined how the punishment we dealt to Cholula spread rapidly through all New Spain. If before our victories at Potonchan, Tabasco, Cingapacinga, and Tlascala we were famed for our courage and called teules, or terrible gods, now we were regarded as even greater divinities, able to detect every secret, and were treated with the deepest awe.

I am sure, kind reader, you’ve heard enough of the affair at Cholula, and I would end here, except to mention the wooden cages we saw there. These were made of heavy timber and held grown men and boys being fattened for sacrifice and feasts. Cortes ordered these diabolical cages torn down and the prisoners sent home. He made the chiefs and papas solemnly promise, under threat of severe punishment, never again to imprison people like this, nor to eat human flesh. But those promises were worthless—they never intended to honor them.

These are some of the monstrous crimes that the bishop of Chiapa, Las Casas, cannot stop cataloging. But he errs in claiming we punished the Cholulans without cause, or for our amusement. I can call as witnesses the pious Franciscan friars—the first monks sent by our emperor after the conquest—who came to Cholula to investigate everything minutely. They questioned the elders and papas and were convinced that everything happened as I have related. Indeed, had we not made an example here, we would have lived in constant fear, surrounded as we were by Mexican and Cholulan troops lurking all around. If we had been destroyed then, the conquest of New Spain would not have happened so swiftly, nor would a second army have found its way there as easily. If it had, the coastal Indians would have fiercely resisted and kept up their idolatrous rites. I even heard the very pious Franciscan Brother Toribio Motelmea admit it would have been better if blood had not been shed, if the Indians had not given us cause. But this lesson convinced all the peoples of New Spain that their idols were only lying demons, and they saw how much happier they were to cease worshiping or sacrificing to them. In fact, after this affair, the people of Cholula cared little for their idols. They removed the great one from the main temple and either hid or destroyed it; at all events, we never saw it again, and they replaced it with another.

## CHAPTER LXXXIV. {.chapter}
*The negotiations we began with the great Motecusuma, and the ambassadors we sent to him.*

We had now stayed a fortnight in Cholula, and any further stay would have been a waste of time. All the inhabitants had returned to their homes, the markets were again full of goods and merchants; peace was restored between them and their neighbors, the Tlascallans; a cross had been erected and much of our holy faith explained to the people. Besides, we found out that Motecusuma had sent spies into our quarters to gather intelligence about our plans and whether we really intended to march to his capital. His two ambassadors, who were still with us, also kept him fully informed about everything as it happened.

Our captain then called a council of war, inviting only those officers and soldiers in whom he placed complete trust and whose wisdom and courage he highly valued. In this council, it was decided to send a most friendly and flattering message to Motecusuma, nearly as follows: “In obedience to our sovereign, we had traveled over many seas and through distant lands solely to pay our personal respects to him, the king of Mexico, and to reveal things that would greatly benefit him. We chose the road through Cholula because his ambassadors had suggested it and told us the inhabitants were his subjects. We were warmly received and treated well for the first two days, but then discovered that a wicked conspiracy had been planned to destroy us all; however, this could only fail, as we had the ability to know things beforehand—it was impossible for anything to happen without our knowledge. So, we punished many of those who plotted that treachery, but refrained from punishing everyone involved, considering that the Cholulans were his subjects and out of our deep respect for him and our strong friendship. It was regrettable, however, that the caziques and papas declared everything had been done by his command and was planned by his own ambassadors. We did not believe a word of this, as it seemed impossible that so great a monarch, who always called himself our friend, could be part of it. On the contrary, we expected that, if his gods had advised him to treat us as enemies, he would face us directly in the open, though it made no difference to us whether we fought in a city or field, night or day, since we always defeated any who dared attack us. Fully convinced of his friendship and eager to meet him personally and speak with him, we intended to go to Mexico to present our monarch’s commission.”

When Motecusuma received this message, and learned that we by no means thought him involved in what had happened at Cholula, he again, as we were told, began fasting with his papas and making sacrifices to his gods, seeking to know whether he should let us enter his city or not. They answered yes, since, once we were there, he would be able to kill us whenever he wished. His top officers and priests agreed, thinking that if he did not admit us, we might start a war against his subjects and call upon the Tlascallans, Totonacs, and other tribes who opposed the Mexicans and were allied with us. To avoid such trouble, the wisest option was to follow the counsel that Huitzilopochtli had given.

The day for our departure now arrived, and, just as we were about to leave our quarters, more ambassadors arrived with gifts from Motecusuma.

## CHAPTER LXXXV. {.chapter}
*How the powerful Motecusuma sends us a valuable gift of gold and the message accompanying it, and how we all agreed to begin our march toward Mexico; and what further happened.*

When Motecusuma was informed of our words about our friendship toward him, and the confident way we spoke, he was once again troubled and amazed that nothing could be hidden from us, and that we were ready to be attacked anywhere, whether inside the city walls or in the open, by day or night—it made no difference to us. He reflected on our war with the Tlascallans and on the battles at Potonchan, Tabasco, Cingapacinga, and Cholula, and became even more perplexed and discouraged. He often changed his mind, but finally decided to send six of his principal courtiers to us with a gift of gold and ornaments of various kinds, together worth over 2000 pesos, as well as packages of beautifully woven cotton cloth.

When these messengers were brought before Cortes, they touched the ground with their hands, kissed it, and addressed our general with deep reverence: “Malinche! Our ruler and monarch, the mighty Motecusuma, sends you this gift, and asks you to accept it with the same goodwill he has for you and your brothers. He also asks us to express his regret for what happened in Cholula and to tell you he would have preferred if you had punished those wicked and lying people even more severely, since they tried to blame him and his ambassadors for their treachery. You may rest assured of his friendship and come to his capital whenever you wish. As men of great courage and as ambassadors of such a great monarch, he will receive you with proper honors, and only regrets that, because the city stands in the middle of a lake, he will not be able to supply your table with all the foods he would otherwise wish. You will be treated with the greatest respect everywhere, and he has already sent orders to all towns along your way to give you whatever you may need.” The ambassadors also offered many further courtesies in their ruler’s name.

Cortes, as our interpreters explained the message, accepted the gifts with every sign of pleasure. He embraced the ambassadors and gave them various pieces of cut glass. Every officer and soldier among us congratulated himself on how fortunate things had become and on the invitation from the king to visit Mexico—for our desire to see that city grew stronger each day, especially among those who had no property in Cuba and had been on the earlier expeditions of Cordoba and Grijalva.

Cortes sent back a kind reply to all that was said and arranged for three of the ambassadors to stay and show us the way, while the rest returned to Mexico to tell their king that we were already on the road.

When the two elder caziques of Tlascala learned that Cortes was determined to march to Mexico, they were deeply distressed, and reminded Cortes how often they had warned him—not warning him enough would be impossible—not to go into such a vast and powerful city, with so many ways to wage a deadly war. The Mexicans, they said, would inevitably one day surprise us, and it would be a miracle if we escaped with our lives. To prove their goodwill toward us, they still offered to send 10,000 warriors under their best generals, with ample supplies.

Cortes thanked them for their kindness and explained that it would not be proper to enter Mexico with such a large army, especially since the hatred between them and the Mexicans was so intense. He only needed a thousand men to carry our cannon and baggage and clear the road for us.

Those 1,000 men were provided immediately—strong, young men—and we were just about to begin our march when the caziques and chiefs of Sempoalla, who had stayed with us this whole time and given us great help, came to Cortes and asked him to return with them to Sempoalla. They were determined, they said, not to go with us to Mexico through Cholula, as they were convinced it would mean destruction both for them and us; especially for them, as the leading men of Sempoalla who, not only had led their people to stop obeying and paying tribute to Motecusuma, but also seized his tax-collectors.

Cortes answered by asking them to calm their fears; he assured them nothing would harm them if they stayed with us, for, if they did, who would dare to trouble them? He begged them to reconsider and remain with us, promising them all kinds of riches. But all his pleas, along with Marina’s friendly advice, were useless, and they refused to accompany us. At this, Cortes declared, “God forbid we should force these people, who have done us so many favors, to go with us against their will!” He then divided among them several packages of the very finest cotton fabric, and also sent two packages to the fat cazique for himself and his nephew Cuesco, who was also an important chief. At the same time, he wrote to his lieutenant Juan de Escalante, alguacil-major of Vera Cruz, reporting all that had happened and that we were on our way to Mexico. He especially warned him to keep a careful watch on the local people, urged him to speed up the completion of the fortress, and to protect the local inhabitants from the Mexicans, as well as to keep our men from wronging them in any way. This letter was sent with the Sempoallans, and then we set out on our march with all necessary military precautions.

## CHAPTER LXXXVI. {.chapter}
*How we set out on our march to Mexico; what happened to us on the way; and the message Motecusuma sent us.*

As we marched out of Cholula, we maintained our usual precautions. Some of our cavalry always went ahead to scout the route, closely followed by some of our best infantry to help in case of ambush or to clear the path. Our cannon and muskets were kept loaded, and our cavalry rode three abreast on each flank, ready to help immediately if needed, with the rest marching in tight formation. I am particular about describing all this so readers understand how careful we were on this march.

On the first day, we reached a spot with a few scattered dwellings on high ground, under Huexotzinco’s authority; if I am not mistaken, it is called Iscalpan, about nine miles from Cholula. Here, all the caziques and papas of Huexotzinco were assembled; they were friends with the Tlascallans and had brought along neighboring tribes from around the volcano, presenting Cortes with provisions and some gold trinkets. They asked him not to mind the small value of the gifts, but to accept them with goodwill. Then, they all tried to talk him out of marching to Mexico, describing the strength of the city, its great number of warriors, and the dangers we faced. Seeing they could not change our minds, they told us which road we should take and warned us that, after crossing the mountain pass, we’d find two wide roads—one leading to Chalco and the other to Tlalmanalco, both under Mexican rule. One road was in good condition and easy to travel (and would be the best for us), but the other had been blocked by fallen pines and other trees to prevent us from taking it. Further up, the good road was barricaded and guarded by Mexican troops lying in wait; others were stationed there to attack us. They advised us to skip the good road and turn onto the one to Tlalmanalco, which was blocked by trees, offering to help clear it, aided by our Tlascallan allies.

Cortes thanked them for their gifts and advice, assuring them he was determined, with God’s help, to continue his march, and that he would take their suggested route.

The next morning, very early, we set out again and, by noon, reached the mountain’s summit, finding the two roads just as the Huexotzincans had described. There we paused to reconsider what we’d been told about the Mexican forces waiting in the pass. Cortes asked the two Mexican ambassadors which road they recommended—the one blocked by timber or the smooth one. They suggested the latter, as it led to Chalco, a large town where we would be well received since it belonged to Motecusuma; the other was dangerous and led to a much smaller town. Despite this, Cortes chose the blocked road, and we marched through the mountains as tightly as possible. Our Indian allies worked hard to clear the heavy fallen timber, and even today some of these trees are still seen by the roadside. Once at the summit, it began to snow so heavily that the ground was soon white. We started descending and stopped for the night in scattered huts, apparently serving as inns for Indian merchants. We also found plenty of food, and despite the cold, we posted sentries and kept regular patrols as usual.

Early the next morning, we set out again, and by high mass we arrived at Tlalmanalco, where we were treated with great kindness and hospitality. As soon as news of our arrival spread, people from Chalco, Amoquemecan, Ayotzinco, and many other nearby places (some names I forget) gathered around us. (The last town has a harbor with canoe traffic.) These tribes together gave us a gift of gold worth about 150 pesos, two bundles of cotton cloth, and eight women. “Malinche,” they said as they presented these to Cortes, “please accept this gift, and from now on we hope you will regard us as your friends!”

Cortes gratefully accepted it and promised to help them whenever they needed him. While we stood around him, he asked Father Olmedo to share some teachings about the Christian faith, urging them to abandon idol-worship—which the friar did, telling them much the same as we had in other towns. They said all he taught was very good and that in due time they would consider these things further. We also told them about our emperor’s great power and that he had sent us to this country to end robbery and oppression.

No sooner had we said this than they began, out of earshot of the Mexican ambassadors, to complain bitterly against Motecusuma and his tax-collectors. The Mexicans, they said, took everything they owned, violated the chastity of their wives and daughters right before their eyes if they were beautiful, and carried them off for hard labor. They themselves had to carry wood, stone, and maize by land and water to the monarch’s large plantations, and give up their own produce to support the great temple; in short, their complaints were endless, and after so many years, I cannot recall them all.

Cortes very kindly gave them all the comfort he could, interpreted by Doña Marina, who added that our general could not presently fix these injustices, but if they endured their hardship a while longer, they would one day surely be freed from such oppression. He then asked two of their principal men, along with four of our Tlascallan friends, to secretly go to the place where the other road had been blocked, as the Huexotzincans had mentioned, and see if there were any troops stationed there. But the caziques assured him there was no need: all barricades were gone and the pit filled in again. The Mexicans, they said, had cut a dangerous pass some six days before and posted a force there to stop us, but since then their god of war had advised them to let us pass without trouble until we were in the city, and then to kill us all. The caziques also begged us to stay with them and promised to provide all we needed. “Believe us,” they pleaded, “do not go to Mexico; the city is incredibly strong and filled with countless warriors. If you enter, you will all be killed.”

Cortes, with the calmest look, replied that neither the Mexicans nor anyone else had the power to take our lives—that is in the hands of the God we believe in. We had an obligation to Motecusuma and to all the caziques and priests, so we would march straight to Mexico. We needed only twenty of their men to go with us; he would do his utmost for them and as soon as he arrived, seek justice for them so that neither Motecusuma nor his officers would oppress them as before.

Hearing this, joy lit up every Indian’s face, and the twenty men Cortes asked for quickly joined us; and, just as we were about to leave, more ambassadors arrived from Motecusuma, whose message I will relate in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER LXXXVII. {.chapter}
*How the powerful Motecusuma again sends ambassadors to us with a present of gold and cotton goods: that monarch’s message to Cortes, and the answer he returns.*

As I have mentioned earlier, we were about to continue our march when four distinguished Mexicans arrived at our quarters with a message from Motecusuma, bringing a gift of gold and cotton goods, and addressed Cortes after performing the customary signs of respect: “Malinche! Our sovereign, the mighty Motecusuma, sends you this gift. He wishes us to express his regret for the many hardships you have endured on your long journey from such distant lands to meet him. He once again offers to send you a quantity of gold, silver, and chalchihuis stones as tribute to your king, as well as gifts for you and the other teules with you; but he again begs you not to advance any further, but to return the way you came. He promises to send plenty of gold, silver, and jewels for your emperor to the harbor on the coast; he will send you four loads of gold, and your companions one each, but he absolutely forbids you to enter Mexico, as all his troops are under arms to stop you; in addition, the only way into the city is by a narrow causeway, and we could not supply you with provisions there.”

Beyond this, the ambassadors gave several other reasons to persuade us not to advance. Unpleasant as this message may have sounded to him, Cortes nonetheless embraced the ambassadors warmly and accepted the gifts, whose value I can no longer recall. I should also note that Motecusuma never sent any message to us without accompanying it with some present of gold.

At this point, Cortes returned to his earlier argument with the ambassadors, saying he was surprised that their master—who had called himself our friend so many times, and was such a powerful monarch—could change his mind so often. Wanting one thing one day and reversing it the next. Regarding his offer of gold for our emperor and ourselves, we were grateful for his good intentions and for the presents now delivered, and he assured them that one day our emperor would return the favor. Then he asked them if it would be right, after we had come so close to his city, to turn back without fulfilling our monarch’s instructions. Could not Motecusuma imagine, if he sent ambassadors to a king of his own status, how he would feel if they turned back after almost arriving at the palace, without seeing the king or carrying out their orders? How would he receive such ambassadors on their return? Would he not see them as cowards and weaklings? Our emperor would only see us in that light—and would treat us accordingly—if we returned in this way. Therefore, we had no other option; we must enter his city one way or another. In the future, Cortes asked, Motecusuma should not send any more ambassadors with such messages. He, Cortes, was determined to see Motecusuma personally and explain the reason for our mission. All we wanted was an audience; and as soon as our stay became burdensome to him, we would leave and return. As for the supposed shortage of provisions, we were used to making do with little. Therefore, he had best make up his mind to receive us, since we could not possibly abandon our purpose of seeing Mexico. With this answer, Cortes sent the ambassadors back to their king and we continued our march. Since we had been frequently warned by the people of Huexotzinco and Chalco, and we knew Motecusuma had been advised by his idols and priests to let us into the city and then attack us, we became even more cautious. We were humans, after all, and feared death. We were extra vigilant, especially since the country was thickly populated; making only short marches each day. We planned how we would enter the city and commended ourselves to God’s protection, confident in the hope that, as the Lord Jesus had watched over us through all our previous dangers, he would also shield us from the power of Mexico.

That night we lodged in Iztapalapan, where an excellent supper awaited us. This town was half on the water, half on dry land, on the slope of a small hill where, now, a public-house is built.

Upon learning our reply to his message, Motecusuma sent his nephew Cacamatzin, prince of Tezcuco, with great ceremony to welcome us. Our outposts first brought news of this prince’s approach, reporting to our general that a large number of Mexicans dressed in splendid mantles were coming peacefully toward us. It was still early, just as we were preparing to break camp, so Cortes ordered us to wait until we knew the reason for the visit.

Soon, four distinguished gentlemen approached him, expressing the deepest respect, and announced that Cacamatzin, prince of Tezcuco and Motecusuma’s nephew, was about to arrive and asked that Cortes wait for him. It was not long before the prince appeared, in greater magnificence than any Mexican noble we had yet seen. He was seated in a beautiful litter decorated with silver, green feathers, and gold branches from which hung many precious stones. The litter was carried by eight nobles, who we were told were themselves lords of towns.

When the procession reached Cortes’ quarters, they helped the prince from the litter, swept the ground before him, and brought him into our general’s presence. After the customary greetings, Cacamatzin addressed Cortes: “Malinche! I and these chiefs have come to attend you, to provide you and your companions with whatever you require, and to guide you to the lodgings we have prepared for you in our city. All this is done at the command of our monarch, the mighty Motecusuma.”

As we beheld the glory and dignity of these nobles, especially Motecusuma’s nephew, we could not help remarking to each other that, if these appeared with such splendor, what must the power and majesty of Motecusuma himself be\!

When Cacamatzin finished speaking, Cortes embraced him, spoke kindly to him and the assembled nobles, and presented the prince with three pieces of polished stone, pearly in color and painted with various figures; giving the other chiefs blue glass beads. He again thanked them for Motecusuma’s kind attention and asked on what day he would be able to thank Motecusuma in person.

With the conference ended, we resumed our march, joined by the nobles who had come out to meet us and by crowds from all the nearby region, so that progress was difficult amid such throngs.

The next morning we came to the broad highway of Iztapalapan, and for the first time we beheld the many towns and villages built in the lake and the even greater numbers on the mainland, with the long, straight causeway leading into Mexico. Our amazement was at its height; we could not help comparing what we saw to the magical castles in the tales of Amadis de Gaul. The temples, towers, and stone buildings of the towns, rising from the lakes, were so high, grand, and splendid that some of our men thought they must be dreaming. And the reader mustn’t be surprised at my enthusiasm, for it’s impossible to speak calmly of such things, utterly new and beyond even our wildest imagination.

As we got closer to Iztapalapan, two more chiefs came out with great ceremony to meet us: the prince of Cuitlahuac and the prince of Cojohuacan, both close relatives of Motecusuma. We entered Iztapalapan and were lodged in palaces of great size, surrounded by wide courtyards and built from hewn stone, cedar, and other fragrant woods. All the rooms were hung with cotton drapery.

After seeing this, we visited the gardens attached to these palaces, which were truly astounding. I could not tire of wandering among them, admiring the many trees heavy with sweet scents, the rosebushes, flowerbeds, and fruit trees along the pathways. There was also a basin of fresh water connected to the lake by a small canal, built of vari-colored stone and decorated with many carvings; it was large enough for their biggest canoes. Waterfowl of many kinds swam there, and everything was so charming that we could hardly find words for our astonishment. Truly, I believe no land so splendid had ever been discovered—for Peru was not known at the time. But now, nothing remains of it, not a stone of this beautiful town stands today.

Not long after, the lords of Iztapalapan and Cojohuacan arrived with a gift worth about 2,000 pesos, for which Cortes thanked them warmly. He treated the lords with every possible kindness, and through our interpreters explained to them many things about our holy faith and our emperor's great power.

Iztapalapan was a large town then, half on water and half on dry land. Its site is now all dry; where once boats sailed, now seeds are sown and harvests gathered. The entire face of the land has changed so completely that anyone who had not seen it before would hardly believe waves had ever rolled where now there are only maize fields—in so short a time everything has changed so wonderfully!

## CHAPTER LXXXVIII. {.chapter}
*The magnificent and grand reception which the powerful Motecusuma gave Cortes and all of us on our entrance into the great city of Mexico.*

The next morning we left Iztapalapan, escorted by all the prominent lords mentioned above. The road we took was eight paces wide, and if I remember right, ran perfectly straight into Mexico. Despite its width, it was far too narrow for the countless people who kept pouring in to see us, and we could hardly make our way forward. The tops of all the temples and towers were packed with onlookers, and the lake itself was covered with canoes filled with Indians, all eager to catch sight of us. And who could blame them? Men and horses like us had never been seen here before!

As we took in all this splendor at once, we scarcely knew what to think—hardly daring to believe it was real. There stretched a series of sizeable towns along the lakeside, with even grander ones rising above the water. Everywhere we saw crowds in canoes; we crossed new bridges at intervals and ahead lay the marvelous city of Mexico in all its glory.

And we, walking through these untold multitudes, were just a handful—450 men at most—still mindful of the warnings from the people of Huexotzinco, Tlascalla, and Tlalmanalco who cautioned us not to risk our lives among the Mexicans’ treachery. I think any reader should ask themselves if there were ever bolder men in the world than us.

At a point where a narrow causeway led to Cojohuacan, we were met by a group of lords and dignitaries in splendid dress, sent by Motecusuma to greet us and welcome us in his name; as a sign of peace, they touched the earth with their hands and kissed it. Here we paused briefly while the princes of Tetzcuco, Iztapalapan, Tlacupa, and Cojohuacan hurried ahead to Motecusuma, who was slowly making his way toward us, surrounded by other nobles and seated in a sedan of extraordinary beauty. When we drew near a group of small towers near the city, the king rose from his sedan, supported by the arms by his main lords, with an exceptionally rich canopy held above him, decorated with green feathers, gold, silver, chalchihuis stones, and pearls hanging from curious borders.

Motecusuma himself, by custom, was richly dressed, wearing a sort of half-boot set with jewels, the soles made of solid gold. The four main lords supporting him were likewise adorned in fine clothes, which they must have put on along the way in order to serve at the king’s side; they had been less splendorously dressed when they greeted us earlier. Around Motecusuma were many other nobles, some bearing the canopy overhead, some spreading cotton cloths on the road ahead so his feet would not touch the earth. No one dared look him directly in the face; everyone stood with eyes downcast, and only his four nephews and cousins supporting him dared look up.

When it was announced that Motecusuma himself approached, Cortes dismounted and went to meet him. Many courtesies were exchanged. Motecusuma greeted Cortes, who, through Marina, wished the king good health. If I recall right, Cortes, with Marina beside him, tried to give the place of honor to Motecusuma, who declined and instead gave it to Cortes. At this point, our commander produced a necklace of precious stones, of beautiful colors and shapes, strung on gold wire and scented with musk, and hung it on Motecusuma’s neck. Our general was about to embrace him, but the nobles about Motecusuma restrained his arms as they thought it improper. Then Cortes had Marina tell the king how fortunate he felt to see such a powerful monarch and how grateful he was for his welcome. Motecusuma responded in gracious terms, then ordered his nephews, the princes of Tetzcuco and Cojohuacan, to escort us to our quarters, while he himself returned to the city accompanied by his other relatives and lords. As they passed, we saw how all in the king’s presence kept their heads bowed, no one daring look up—and how much respect was paid to him.

The road ahead of us was less crowded, yet the numbers of men, women, and children in the streets, in balconies, and in the canoes just to see us defied all counting. Even as I write this, it all rises before my eyes as if it were yesterday; I am ever more aware of the great mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ in giving us the strength and courage to enter the city. For myself, I am especially grateful to God for saving my life through so many dangers, as the reader will see from this history: I cannot praise him enough that I have lived to tell these stories at all, even if not as well as I would wish.

We were lodged in a great building, large enough for all of us, which had belonged to Axayacatl, Motecusuma’s father. Here Motecusuma also kept a secret room full of treasures, left him by his father and never touched until now. Next to this structure stood temples and Mexican idols; this spot was chosen for us because we were called teules, or seen as such, so we might live among them as if among our equals. The halls and rooms were very spacious, and those intended for our leader had carpets. Each of us had a separate bed, which could not have been better appointed for a gentleman. The place was swept and the walls newly plastered and painted.

When we arrived in the large courtyard of this palace, Motecusuma came up to Cortes, and, taking him by the hand, led him to his quarters, which were beautifully decorated in the local style. He then hung around his neck a finely wrought golden necklace, decorated with figures of crabs. The Mexican lords marvelled at all these great favors their monarch showed our leader.

Cortes thanked the king for so much kindness and Motecusuma said, “Malinche, you and your brothers must now make yourselves at home and rest from your journey.” He then returned to his palace, which was nearby.

We divided the apartments among the companies, positioned our cannon advantageously, and organized so that both cavalry and infantry were ready at a moment’s call. We then sat for a generous meal already prepared for us.

This bold and memorable entry into the great city of Temixtitlan-Mexico took place on November 8, 1519. Thanks be to the Lord Jesus Christ for all this. If I have not exactly remembered every detail, I ask the reader’s pardon for the present.

## CHAPTER LXXXIX. {.chapter}
*How Motecusuma, accompanied by several lords, visits us in our quarters, and the conversation between him and our general.*

After Motecusuma had finished his meal and heard that we had also eaten, he set out from his palace with great ceremony, attended by many nobles and all his relatives, to visit us. Cortes, informed of his approach, moved to the center of the room to greet him. Motecusuma took him by the hand while others brought in a chair of great value decorated in Mexican style with elaborately worked gold; the king then invited Cortes to sit beside him.

Motecusuma began an excellent speech, first expressing his pleasure at entertaining in his city such brave cavaliers as Cortes and us. He said that a couple years before, he had learned that another commander had landed in the province of Champoton, and the following year someone else arrived off the coast with four ships. He had long wanted to see Cortes; now his wish fulfilled, he was ready to serve us and provide anything we needed. He was now convinced that we were those people foretold by his earliest ancestors—a people who would come from the rising sun to conquer these lands. After the battles we fought at Potonchan, Tabasco, and with the Tlascallans, which had been reported to him in paintings, he no longer doubted.

To this, Cortes answered that we would never be able to repay him for his many kindnesses. We did in fact come from the rising sun and were subjects of a powerful king, Don Carlos, who had many great princes for vassals. Our king had heard of Motecusuma and his great power, and had sent us specifically to ask him and his people to adopt the Christian faith for the salvation of their souls; and that we worshipped only one true God, as Cortes had previously explained somewhat to his ambassadors Teuthlille, Cuitalpitoc, and Quintalbor—all of which would be more fully described to him in due course. When this conversation ended, Motecusuma gave our general various golden ornaments, and to each of our officers a smaller portion of similar kind with three bundles of feather-decorated cotton; and to each soldier two more bundles. He gave all these gifts gladly and with perfect courtesy. Afterward, he asked whether we were all brothers and subjects of our great king; Cortes replied that we were all united in love and friendship. The conversation between Motecusuma and Cortes was friendly, though brief, as it was the king’s first visit and he did not want to be overbearing. He then ordered his steward to supply us with food—maize, fowls, fruit, and fodder for our horses; he also sent women to grind our corn and make bread. The king then took his leave very politely, and Cortes and all of us walked him to the door.

Our commander then gave strict orders that no one was to leave headquarters until we learned more about our situation.

## CHAPTER XC. {.chapter}
*How our general, the next day, paid a visit to Motecusuma, and of the conversation that took place between them.*

The following day, Cortes decided to visit Motecusuma in his palace. First, he sent a message to check on Motecusuma’s health and to ask whether it would be agreeable for the monarch to receive a visit from him. Our general brought with him four of our principal officers—Alvarado, Leon, Ordas, and Sandoval—as well as five soldiers, myself included.

When our arrival was announced, Motecusuma came forward to meet us in the center of the room, accompanied only by his nephew, since the other nobles were only allowed to enter his chambers on very important occasions. After exchanging initial courtesies, Motecusuma and our general shook hands. Motecusuma then led Cortes to an elevated seat, placing him at his right hand. The rest of us were also invited to sit on chairs that were brought in for us. Through our interpreters, Cortes spoke at length to Motecusuma: “He said that all the hopes, both ours and his, were now fulfilled, as he had completed his journey and obeyed the commands of our great emperor. Now, all that remained was to make known to Motecusuma the commandments of our God. We were Christians, believing in one true God only, Jesus Christ, who suffered and died for our salvation. We prayed to the cross as a symbol of the cross on which our Lord and Saviour was crucified. By his death, all humanity was saved. He rose on the third day and was received into heaven. By him, heaven, earth, the sea, and all living things were created; nothing existed but by his divine will. Those figures considered as gods were not gods, but demons—evil spirits. It was easy to see how powerless and pitiful they were, since everywhere we had planted the cross, those gods no longer dared to appear. Motecusuma’s ambassadors had clearly witnessed this, and Motecusuma himself would, in time, recognize this truth. Cortes then asked him to pay special attention to something else he had to say.” Cortes then carefully explained how the world was created, how all people are brothers and descendants of one father and mother, Adam and Eve, and how our emperor was grieved that so many souls should be lost and sent to hell by those false idols, where they would suffer eternal fire. For that reason, our emperor had sent us here to end such misery, to encourage the people to stop worshipping those gods, to no longer sacrifice humans, and to avoid theft and unnatural offenses. Soon, our emperor would send men of great piety and virtue to this land, men who would better explain these things, and of whom there were many in our country. We were only the first messengers, asking for their support and help in this mission.

As Motecusuma was about to answer, Cortes interrupted and turned to us, saying, “Truly, I am determined that they comply with this, and let this be the start of our work!”

Motecusuma replied as follows: “Malinche! What you have told me about your God has already been mentioned to me by my servants, to whom you revealed similar things immediately upon your arrival off the coast. I am not unaware of what you have shared regarding the cross and other matters in the towns you passed through. However, we remained silent, since the gods we worship have been worshipped by our ancestors for generations. We have long acknowledged them as good deities, just as you have yours, and therefore let us speak no further on this subject. Concerning the creation of the world, we also believe it was created many ages ago. We also believe that you are the people our ancestors prophesied would come from the rising sun, and I feel indebted to your great emperor, to whom I will send gifts of my most valuable possessions. It has now been two years since I first received news of him from some ships which appeared off my coast from your country, whose people also called themselves his subjects. Tell me, do you truly all belong to the same people?”

Cortes assured him that we were all servants of the same great emperor; that those earlier ships were only sent in advance to explore the seas and harbors and prepare for this present journey.

Motecusuma then said that even at that time, he had thought about allowing some of those men to travel inland, as he greatly desired to see them, and had intended to honor them. Now, since the gods had fulfilled his greatest wish and we now lived in his homes—which we could consider our own—we could rest and enjoy ourselves, and we would lack nothing. Although he had sometimes told us not to come to his city, he had done so reluctantly. He had acted this way because of his subjects, who greatly feared us—believing we controlled fire and lightning and killed many with our horses; that we were wild, violent “teules,” and similar tales. Now that he had met us and seen for himself that we too were made of flesh and bone, and men of understanding and courage, he had an even higher opinion of us than before, and was willing to share all he had with us.

At this, Cortes told him that we were very grateful for his kindness and generosity.

Motecusuma, who was always cheerful, though never forgetful of his rank, now continued in a more humorous tone: “I know perfectly well, Malinche, what the people of Tlascalla, with whom you are allied, have told you about me. They made you believe that I am some kind of god, or teule, and that my palaces are filled with gold, silver, and jewels. I do not think for a moment that reasonable men like yourselves could believe such things—you must see it all as nonsense: and now you can see, Malinche, that I am made of flesh and bone like you, and that my palaces are built of stone, lime, and wood. I am indeed a powerful monarch, and I have inherited vast treasures from my ancestors; but anything else they told you is pure nonsense. You should think of that just as I think of the stories about lightning and flames supposedly flung about by you.”

Cortes replied, laughing, “We know from experience that enemies never speak the truth about each other. Even so, we had already concluded that there was no other monarch in this part of the world as noble or illustrious as yourself, and that our emperor’s high opinion of you was well justified.”

During this conversation, Motecusuma quietly asked his nephew to have the house steward bring in some gold ornaments and ten bundles of fine fabric, which he divided among Cortes and the four officers present. We five soldiers each received two gold neck chains, worth about ten pesos each, and two packages of cotton cloth.

The gold Motecusuma gave away that day was valued at more than 1,000 pesos. But more importantly, he gave everything with such generosity and dignity as befit a great monarch.

As it was already afternoon, Cortes began to worry that a longer stay might trouble the monarch, so he rose and said, “Each day we are more grateful to your majesty for so many kindnesses; but for now, it is time to think of dinner.”

The monarch thanked us for our visit, and we parted with the greatest courtesy. We then returned to our quarters, where we shared with our fellow soldiers the generous welcome the monarch had given us.

## CHAPTER XCI. {.chapter}
*Of Motecusuma’s person, character, habits, and great power.*

At this time, the mighty Motecusuma was around forty years old. He was tall and slender, and though rather thin, his body was beautifully proportioned. His skin was not very dark, but resembled the general complexion of the local people. His hair was not very long, except where it hung thickly over his ears, covering them completely. He had a black, though thin, beard, which looked handsome. His face was long but cheerful, and his fine eyes could show love or command seriousness as needed. He was exceptionally clean, taking a bath each evening. Besides a number of concubines—daughters of high-ranking men—he had two legal wives of royal descent, whom he visited privately, only in the presence of his closest servants. He certainly did not commit any unnatural crimes. The clothes he wore on one day were not worn again until four days later. In the halls next to his private rooms, a guard of two thousand nobles was always present, though he only spoke to them to give orders or receive news. Whenever they entered his quarters, they first had to exchange their rich attire for simpler, though always neat and clean, clothing, and they could only approach him barefoot, with eyes lowered. No one dared to look directly at him, and during the three required prostrations before approaching, they would say: “Lord! my Lord! sublime Lord!” Everything reported to him had to be brief, with downcast eyes, and when they left, they walked out backwards. Even princes and other nobles who came to Mexico on lawsuits or other business from elsewhere always took off their shoes and changed into more modest dress before entering his palace. They were not allowed direct entry, but had to wait outside for a long time, as it would otherwise be considered disrespectful to the monarch.

More than 300 dishes were prepared daily for Motecusuma’s dinner, kept warm by porcelain pans of fire beneath them. Three hundred dishes were served for him alone, and over 1,000 for attendants. Occasionally, accompanied by his top household officers, he would select the day’s dishes and various birds himself. We were told that the flesh of young children, as a delicacy, was also served to him at times as a treat. Whether this was true, we could not discover; there were already so many kinds of food—fowls, turkeys, pheasants, partridges, quails, wild and tame geese, venison, musk pigs, pigeons, hares, rabbits, and countless other birds and animals. There were even more dishes that it would be difficult to name them all. I do know, however, that after Cortes reproached Motecusuma for human sacrifices and eating human flesh, Motecusuma gave orders that such dishes should never again be brought to his table. I will stop here and instead describe how the monarch was attended during meals. If it was cold, a large fire was made, using a kind of aromatic charcoal made from tree bark that emitted no smoke but filled the room with delicious fragrance. To keep Motecusuma from getting too warm, a gilded gold screen decorated with figures of their gods was placed between him and the fire. He sat on a low, cushioned chair, finely carved, while the matching table was only slightly higher. The table was covered with white cloths, one of them large. Four neat, pretty young women brought round pitchers, called Xicales, filled with water to wash his hands. The water was caught in other vessels, after which the women handed him towels to dry his hands. Two other women served maize bread baked with eggs. Before he began eating, a wooden, gold-gilded screen was set before him, so no one could watch him eat, and the women served from a distance. Four elderly noblemen were invited to dine with him, to whom he spoke or asked questions from time to time. Sometimes he would offer them a plate from his table, which was a great honor. These elderly men, as we learned later, were his closest relatives, trusted advisors, and chief justices. When he shared a dish with them, they ate it standing, with utmost reverence, but never looked him directly in the face. The dinnerware was made of colorful and black porcelain from Cholulla. While the monarch ate, his courtiers and staff nearby had to remain absolutely silent.

After the hot dishes, all kinds of fruit were placed before him, though Motecusuma ate little of them. Occasionally, he was served a golden pitcher filled with a drink made from cacao, which is very invigorating. Although we did not pay much attention at the time, I saw about fifty large, frothy pitchers of this drink being brought in. It was also served to the monarch by women, always with the utmost reverence.

Sometimes, while dining, he would be amused by Indian dwarfs and hunchbacks who acted as jesters. On other occasions, he had entertainers who joked with him, or dancers and singers performing in front of him. Motecusuma greatly enjoyed such performances, and distributed any leftovers and cacao pitchers among the performers. After finishing his meal, the four women cleared the table and brought him water to wash his hands. During this, he would converse with the four elderly men, then leave to take his afternoon nap.

Once Motecusuma had dined, the men on duty and his other officers were served, and I have often counted more than a thousand dishes for them, all the same types as above. They were then brought the customary Mexican frothy pitchers of cacao—easily 2,000—and afterward, abundant varieties of fruit.

Then the women who worked in baking, the cacao makers, and the young women who served the king had their meal. Truly, the daily expense for these dinners alone must have been immense!

In addition to these, there were many butlers, house-stewards, treasurers, cooks, and managers of maize stores. There would be so much to say about these that I hardly know where to start—and we couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly everything was organized. I almost forgot to mention that during dinner, two other beautiful young women brought him small cakes as white as snow, made of eggs and rich ingredients, on plates with clean napkins; also, a kind of long bread made of substantial things, and some pachol, a type of wafer. They then gave him three beautifully painted and gilded tubes, filled with liquid amber and a herb called by the Indians tabaco. When the meal, singing, and dancing ended, one of these tubes was lit, and Motecusuma inhaled the smoke. After a short while, he would fall asleep.

Around this time, a well-known cazique we called Tapia was Motecusuma’s chief steward, responsible for all the emperor’s revenues, kept in large books of Mexican paper called *Amatl*. One entire house was filled with these records.

Motecusuma also kept two arsenals stocked with all kinds of weapons, many decorated with gold and jewels. These included shields of several sizes, sabres, a kind of broad sword wielded with both hands and edged with flint stones sharper than Spanish steel; long lances with pointed spikes a fathom long, also edged with sharp flint. These points were so sharp and hard that they could pierce even the strongest shield and could cut like a razor; the Mexicans even used these stones to shave. There were excellent bows and arrows, single- and double-pointed pikes with throwing thongs, slings with specially made round stones, and a kind of large shield that could be rolled up and stored, unfolding to cover a defender from head to foot in battle. There were also many quilted cotton cuirasses for armor, beautifully decorated with feathers, wooden and bone helmets and morions adorned with plumage. Artisans worked constantly to increase this stock, and the arsenals were overseen by specific officials.

Motecusuma also maintained several aviaries, and I can hardly keep myself from detailing everything about them. I’ll simply say we saw every sort of eagle, from the king’s eagle to the tiniest, and every type of bird from the largest to the tiny colibris, in full plumage. There were also the birds which provided the green feathers for fine feathered works, known as quezales. There was a species of sparrow with five different colored feathers—green, red, white, yellow, and blue—though I’ve forgotten their Mexican name. We saw so many parrots and other colorful birds I cannot name them all, as well as geese with splendid feathers and other large birds. These birds had designated breeding areas and were cared for by multiple Indian men and women, who saw to their nests, food, and breeding needs. In the aviary courtyard, there was a large pond of fresh water hosting various waterfowl, including a particularly beautiful, long-legged bird, its body, wings, and tail brightly colored, called the ipiris in Cuba, where it is also found.

In another building, many idols, said to be the most terrifying of their gods, were erected. Near these, all kinds of beautiful animals were kept: tigers, two types of lions (one shaped like a wolf, called a jackal), foxes, and other small predatory animals. Most of them had been born here and were fed on venison, turkeys, dogs, and, as I have heard, sometimes the remains of humans.

As for the dreadful human sacrifices practiced here, we were told this: the victim’s chest was cut open with a sharp flint knife, the beating heart was torn out and immediately presented to whatever idol the sacrifice honored. The head, arms, and legs were then cut off and eaten at feasts—except for the head, which was hung from a beam reserved for the purpose. No other part was eaten; the rest was given to the animals kept in those dens, which also included vipers and other venomous snakes, most notably one whose tail had a rattle. This last serpent, considered most dangerous, was kept in a special cabin filled with scattered feathers where it laid its eggs and was fed the flesh of dogs and human victims. We were specifically told that after we were driven out of Mexico and lost 850 men, these creatures fed for many days on the bodies of our dead. Indeed, when all the tigers and lions roared, accompanied by the jackals’ howling and the snakes’ hissing, it was dreadful—like being in hell.

Now I’ll turn to a different subject and describe the skilled arts of the Mexicans: first, the sculptors and gold and silversmiths, who were so talented at working and smelting gold that they would astonish even the best Spanish goldsmiths. There were many of them, and the best lived at Escapuzalco, about four miles from Mexico. Then came experts in cutting and polishing precious stones and chalchihuis, which is like the emerald. Then, talented painters and feather artists, and exceptional sculptors. Even today there are three Indian artists living in Mexico—Marcos de Aguino, Juan de la Cruz, and El Crespello—who have reached such mastery in painting and sculpture that they might be compared to Apelles, or to Michelangelo and Berruguete among our own contemporaries.

The women were especially skilled weavers and embroiderers, and made the finest featherwork fabrics. The more ordinary fabrics for daily use came from towns in the province of Costatlan, on the north coast near our original landing place with Cortes.

Motecusuma’s palace concubines, all daughters of notable men, worked on the most beautiful featherwork fabrics. Similar items were made by certain women living in seclusion, like our nuns. There were many such women, living near the temple of Huitzilopochtli. Fathers would sometimes offer their daughters to these houses, out of piety or in honor of some female idol, the guardian of marriage, and there they lived until marriage.

The powerful Motecusuma also kept many dancers and clowns: some danced on stilts, tumbled, and performed for his entertainment. An entire quarter of the city was inhabited by such performers, whose only occupation was entertainment. At last, Motecusuma employed numbers of stone-cutters, masons, and carpenters, who worked solely on the royal palaces. Above all, I must mention his flower, tree, and vegetable gardens, which he kept diverse and well-tended. These gardens included baths, wells, and ponds of clear water that ebbed and flowed. The air was alive with many kinds of birds among the trees. He also kept plantations of medical plants and vegetables, all cared for by a large number of gardeners. All baths, ponds, and buildings were well built of stone, as were the theatres for the singers and dancers. So many remarkable things could be observed in these gardens and throughout the city that I can hardly express my amazement at the grandeur and magnificence of the Mexican monarch.

Meanwhile, I find myself as tired from writing down all these things as the reader may be from reading them! So I will close this chapter and move on to how our general, with many of his officers, went to see the Tlatelulco, or great square of Mexico; and on that occasion, we also climbed the great temple, where the idols Tetzcatlipuca and Huitzilopochtli stood. This was the first time Cortes left his headquarters to walk about the city.

## CHAPTER XCII. {.chapter}
*Our general takes a walk through Mexico, and views the Tlatelulco (the great square), and the chief temple of Huitzilopochtli.*

We had already been in the city of Mexico for four days, and neither our commander nor any of us had left our quarters during that time, except to visit the gardens and buildings adjoining the palace. Cortes now decided to explore the city, visit the great market, and see the chief temple of Huitzilopochtli. He sent Geronimo Aguilar, Doña Marina, and one of his pages named Orteguilla—who by this time understood some of the Mexican language—to Motecusuma, requesting permission to view the various buildings of the city. Motecusuma, in his reply, granted us permission to go wherever we pleased, though he was concerned we might do something disrespectful to one of his idols. He therefore chose to accompany us himself, along with some of his principal officers, and left his palace with a grand retinue. When he reached a spot about halfway between his palace and the temple, he got out of his sedan, believing it would be disrespectful to his gods to approach them in any other way than on foot. He leaned on the arms of the highest officers of his court. Others walked ahead, holding aloft two rods that looked like scepters—signaling that the monarch was approaching. Whenever he was carried in his sedan, he himself held a short staff, half gold and half wood, much like our judges use. In this way he arrived at the temple, which he ascended with many papas. On reaching the summit, he immediately began to burn incense to Huitzilopochtli and performed other ceremonies.

Our commander, accompanied by most of our cavalry and foot soldiers—all well-armed, as we always were—proceeded to the Tlatelulco. By Motecusuma’s order, several caziques came to meet us on our way. As soon as we arrived in this enormous market, we were amazed by the multitude of people, the abundance of goods for sale, and the excellent order and organization throughout. The grandees who accompanied us explained every detail and gave us full explanations of all we saw. Every type of merchandise had its own area for sale. We first visited the areas for gold and silver wares, jewels, cloths interwoven with feathers, and other manufactured goods—including slaves of both sexes. This slave market was as large as the Portuguese market for African slaves at Guinea. To prevent them from running away, the slaves had halters around their necks, though some were allowed to walk freely. Next were the vendors of more common goods—cotton, twisted thread, and cacao. In short, every kind of product found in New Spain was here; it reminded me of my hometown, Medina del Campo, during the fair, where each type of merchandise has its own assigned street. In one place, stuffs made of nequen were sold, along with ropes and sandals; in another, cooked sweet maguey root and various other maguey products. In another part, skins of tigers, lions, jackals, otters, red deer, wild cats, and other predators were displayed, some tanned. Elsewhere were beans and sage, with other herbs and vegetables. A designated area was set aside for vendors of fowl, turkeys, ducks, rabbits, hares, deer, and dogs, as well as fruit-sellers, pastry-cooks, and tripe-sellers. Not far from them were stalls with all kinds of earthenware, from large cauldrons to the smallest pitchers. Then came the honey and honey-cake sellers, along with those selling other sweets. Next were timber merchants and furniture dealers with tables, benches, cradles, and all sorts of wooden items, all neatly arranged. What more can I add? If I tried to list everything, I should mention even human excrement, sold in canoes docked in the canals near the square, and used in tanning leather; the Mexicans insisted proper tanning could not be done without it. I am sure many readers will find this amusing; nevertheless, it is factual, and as further evidence, I must note that along every road, accommodations of reeds, straw, or grass were built, hiding those who used them from view, so nothing of this valuable substance would be lost. But why should I detail every item for sale in this market? If I had to list them all, I’d never finish. And yet, I have not mentioned the paper—called amatl here—the tubes filled with liquid amber and tobacco, the various perfumes and ointments, nor the seeds displayed under the market porticoes, nor the medicinal herbs.

In this marketplace, there were also courts of justice with three judges and several constables, who inspected the goods for sale. I almost forgot to mention the salt, the makers of flint knives, the fish, and a type of bread made from a kind of mud or algae collected from the lake’s surface—eaten as is, and tasting somewhat like our cheese. There were also instruments of brass, copper, and tin; wooden cups and painted pitchers. Attempting to list this abundance of wares would take more space than I can afford; besides, the market was so crowded and the porticoes jammed, it was impossible to see everything in one day.

On our way to the great temple, as we passed the courtyards next to the market, we saw many other merchants selling gold dust straight from the mines, packed in tubes made from the bones of large geese. These were worked so thin and white that the gold showed through. The value of these tubes was judged by their length and thickness, and they could be exchanged for certain numbers of mantles, xiquipiles of cacao nuts, slaves, or other goods.

After leaving the market, we entered the large courtyards surrounding the chief temple. These took up more ground than the marketplace at Salamanca and were enclosed by a double wall made of stone and lime. The yards were paved with large, white flagstones that were exceptionally smooth; where stones were missing, brown plaster had been used, and all was kept so clean there was not a speck of dust or straw anywhere.

Before we could ascend the steps of the great temple, Motecusuma—who was sacrificing atop it—sent six papas and two of his top officers to escort Cortes up. There were 114 steps to the top, and since they feared Cortes would tire like Motecusuma, they offered him support, but he declined. Upon reaching the summit, we crossed a platform with many large stones where victims for sacrifice were laid out. Nearby stood a large idol in the form of a dragon, surrounded by other hideous figures and pools of fresh blood. Motecusuma himself emerged from a chapel where his vile gods stood, accompanied by two papas, and warmly welcomed Cortes and all of us. “Climbing this temple, Malinche,” he said, “must surely have tired you!” Cortes replied, through our interpreters, that nothing could tire us. The monarch then took his hand and invited him to look out over his vast city, the lake towns, and the settlements around the city. Motecusuma also noted that from here we could get a good view of the great market.

Indeed, this hellish temple, in its great height, offered a view of the whole area. We could see the three causeways leading into Mexico: the one from Iztapalapan, which we used to enter the city four days before; the one from Tlacupa, along which we later fled eight months later, when we were driven out by the new monarch Cuitlahuatzin; and the one from Tepeaquilla. We could also see the aqueduct from Chapultepec, which supplied the entire city with fresh water. The bridges over the channels where the causeways were interrupted also stood out, and the waters of the lake could be seen rising and falling. The lake itself was filled with canoes bringing provisions, goods, and other merchandise. Here it was clear that the only access to the houses in the city—and to all towns built in the lake—was by drawbridges or canoes. In all these towns, the beautiful white-plastered temples rose above the smaller buildings, much like towers and castles in our Spanish cities, making for a splendid view.

After we had taken in this magnificent scene, we turned our eyes back to the enormous market and saw the huge crowds of buyers and sellers. The bustle and noise of the multitude was so great it could be heard more than four miles away. Some of our men, who had been in Constantinople and Rome and traveled throughout Italy, said they had never seen a marketplace as large, as orderly, or as crowded as this one in Mexico.

On this occasion, Cortes said to father Olmedo, who was with us: “I think we should take this opportunity to ask Motecusuma for permission to build a church here.”

Father Olmedo replied that it would certainly be a good thing if the monarch agreed, but that it would be rash to bring up such a request now, since his consent would not be easily won even under the best circumstances.

Cortes then turned to Motecusuma and said, through our interpreter Doña Marina: “Your majesty is truly a great monarch, and you deserve even greater glory! It has been a pleasure to see your cities. Now I ask one favor, that you allow us to see your gods and teules.”

Motecusuma replied that he must first consult his top papas, and then addressed them briefly. After that, we were led to a kind of small tower with a single room, inside which were two altars draped with exceptionally beautiful coverings. On each stood a massive, fat-looking figure; the one on the right was the god of war, Huitzilopochtli. This idol had a broad, grimacing face with wild and furious eyes, and it was covered in jewels, gold, and pearls, held on with a type of paste made from a local root. Large, jewelled serpents encircled this demon, who held a bow in one hand and a bundle of arrows in the other. A smaller idol, beside it, represented its attendant, carrying the monster’s short spear and a golden shield studded with gems. Around Huitzilopochtli’s neck hung golden and silver representations of human faces and hearts, decorated with blue stones. In front of him stood several incense burners with copal, which is the incense of this country; also, the hearts of three Indians slaughtered that day were burning as a sacrifice. The walls and floor of this chapel were nearly black with blood, and the stench was horrific.

On the left stood another idol, as large as Huitzilopochtli, with a face resembling a bear and glittering eyes made of tetzcat, the country’s obsidian mirror. Like Huitzilopochtli, it was covered in precious stones and was called *Tetzcatlipuca*. This was the god of the underworld, with the souls of dead Mexicans beneath him. Around its body were small devils with snakes' tails. The walls and floor were also stained with blood, and the smell was worse than any slaughterhouse in Spain. Five human hearts had been sacrificed to him that day. At the top of the temple was another chapel, very finely finished and richly carved. Here stood another idol, half-man, half-lizard, also covered in jewels—half hidden from view. We were told that the hidden side was covered with the seeds of every plant, since he was the god of seeds and fruits; I have forgotten his name. Here too, everything was smeared with blood, and the stench was so sickening we could not have stayed much longer. In the same place was a gigantic drum, known as the drum of hell, whose sound was so mournful and deep, and so powerful, that it could be heard over eight miles away. The drum head was made from the hide of a huge serpent. The platform was littered with dreadful things—large and small trumpets, giant knives, and burnt hearts of sacrificed Indians—everything stained with old blood, horrible to see, and filling the mind with terror. Plus, the stench everywhere was so vile we could not wait to escape this place. Our commander, smiling, said to Motecusuma, “I cannot believe that so wise and powerful a monarch as you has not realized by now that these idols are not gods, but evil spirits—devils. To prove this, and to let your papas see the truth, allow me to build a cross atop this temple, and give us a little space in the chapel of Huitzilopochtli and Tetzcatlipuca to place an image of the holy Virgin. Then you will see what fear will come upon these idols which have so deceived you.”

Motecusuma understood what the image of the Virgin Mary was, but was deeply offended by Cortes’ proposal, replying in front of two furious papas: “Malinche, had I known you would use such insulting words, I would not have shown you my gods. To us, they are good deities: they provide for us, give food, water, good harvests, health, fair weather, and victory whenever we pray to them. That is why we worship them and offer sacrifices. I beg you, do not insult the deep veneration we have for these gods again.”

Cortes saw how strongly these words were spoken and wisely said nothing in reply. He simply smiled and said to the monarch, “It is time we both leave.” Motecusuma replied that he would not detain him any further, but he himself now needed to remain to atone by prayers and sacrifice for having committed *gratlatlacol*—letting us ascend the temple and thus offending his gods.

“If that is the case,” Cortes said, “I beg your pardon, great monarch.” We then descended the 114 steps, which greatly distressed some of our soldiers suffering from groin swelling. The following is all I can provide concerning the size and perimeter of this temple; but I hope the reader will be patient if I make any errors, for at that time, I had no thought of writing a book, but only of fulfilling my duty as a soldier and obeying the orders of our general Cortes. If I remember correctly, this temple covered a space big enough for six of the largest buildings as we have in our country. Its form was rather pyramid-like, topped by the small tower with the idols. From the middle up to the platform, there were five landings, like barbicans, but without battlements. Anyone can get a good idea of the temple’s shape from the pictures some Conquistadors own (I have one myself), which by now most people have seen. As for the building of this temple, I learned that every inhabitant contributed something—gold, silver, pearls, precious stones—which were buried in the foundations and the earth sprinkled with the blood of war prisoners and the seeds of every plant in the country. The idea was to gain the gods’ favor for conquest, riches, and good harvests. Readers might ask how we know the foundation was filled with gold, pearls, silver, precious stones, seeds, and human blood, when this building had stood for a thousand years. I answer that after we conquered the city, this was proven true—for when new buildings were constructed where the temple had stood, much of this area was used for the new church of our patron, Saint Santiago. The workers digging the old foundations for new ones found much gold, silver, pearls, chalchihuis stones, and other valuables. A similar find was made by a citizen of Mexico who was allotted part of this property for building, but the treasure was claimed by his majesty, and there was even a lawsuit about it, though I do not remember how it ended. Furthermore, the accounts of the caziques and grandees of Mexico, and even of Quauhtemoctzin himself (who was alive then), all agree with what I say. It is also mentioned in the books and paintings recording the history of the land.

Regarding the vast and splendid courtyards of this temple, I have already said enough. I should not neglect to mention a small tower nearby, also containing idols. I would call it a temple of hell; for at one of its doors stood a dragon figure with an open mouth and huge teeth, looking like some monster from the infernal regions, the eater of souls. There were more figures near the entrance, resembling devils and serpents. Not far from there was an altar thick with dark and fresh blood. In a neighboring building, we saw many basins and dishes, used for cooking the flesh of those unfortunate enough to be sacrificed—the papas ate this flesh. Nearby were several daggers and chopping-blocks, like those used in our butcher shops. A little way from this dreadful house lay piles of wood and a large reservoir of water, filled and emptied at set times, supplied by underground pipes from the Chapultepec aqueduct. I can call this building nothing but the house of satan!

Now let me introduce the reader to another temple, where the grandees of Mexico were buried. The doors were differently shaped, and the idols were unlike those in other temples, but there was the same blood and stench.

Next to this was another place, where skulls and bones were piled up in endless numbers. This place, too, had its own idols, and in all these temples, we found priests in long black robes, hooded like Dominican friars and choirboys. Their ears were pierced, and their hair was long and matted with clotted blood. Not far from this bone-house was another temple for idols said to protect the marriage rights of men—and here, too, those grisly human sacrifices were made. Around these vast yards stood many small houses where the papas lived, presiding over the idol ceremonies. Near the main temple we also saw a huge basin or pond, filled with the purest water, used solely for the worship of Huitzilopochtli and Tetzcatlipuca, supplied by underground pipes from Chapultepec. There were other large buildings nearby, like cloisters, where many young women lived like nuns until they married. These, too, had two particular idols in female form—protectors of women’s marriage rights, to whom they prayed and sacrificed in hopes of good husbands.

Although the temple at Tlatelulco, which I have described at length, was the largest in Mexico, it was by no means the only one; there were many other magnificent temples in the city, too numerous to describe. I should mention, though, that the main temple at Cholulla was taller than that of Mexico, with 120 steps; also, its idol enjoyed more fame, and people made pilgrimages there from all over New Spain for the remission of sins. Its architecture was different, though the courtyards and double walls were similar. The temple at Tetzcuco was also very tall, with 117 steps, and had broad, beautiful courtyards equal to those of the others, though designed differently. Truly, it is almost comical that every province and town should have its own unique idols—though they did not compete with each other—and each community sacrificed to their own.

Finally, Cortes and all of us became weary of seeing so many idols and sacrificial implements, so we returned to our quarters accompanied by a great number of chiefs and caziques, whom Motecusuma had sent for that purpose.

## CHAPTER XCIII. {.chapter}
*How we build a chapel and altar in our quarters with a cross outside; discover the treasure of Motecusuma’s father; and decide to seize and imprison the monarch in our quarters.*

Our general and Father Olmedo quickly realized that Motecusuma would never agree to our putting up a cross on his main temple, nor allow us to build a chapel there. When we arrived in Mexico, we had set up some tables as an altar; but we were not satisfied with that, so we asked Motecusuma’s house-steward to have his masons build a church for us in our quarters. He referred us to the monarch himself, and so Cortes sent him, along with our interpreter and the page Orteguilla, to speak to Motecusuma, who immediately gave his approval and ordered it done.

In three days, our church was finished, and a cross was put up in front of our quarters. Mass was now celebrated daily as long as our wine lasted—but that was not very long, since Cortes and Father Olmedo had used the wine for mass during their illness in Tlascalla. Still, we went to church every day and prayed on our knees at the altar, before the holy images; for it was our Christian duty, and so Motecusuma and his nobles would see us doing this, becoming familiar with these holy things by watching us kneel in devotion—especially when we recited the Ave Maria.

Wherever we went, it was our habit to examine everything around us, so we searched every corner and nook in our quarters. As we were looking for a good place to set up our altar, two of our men—one was Yañez, our carpenter—noticed traces of a doorway in the wall of one room. It had been carefully walled over and neatly plastered. We all knew quite well that the treasure of Motecusuma’s father was hidden somewhere in our quarters, so these two men suspected right away that this doorway could lead to the treasury. Yañez shared his suspicions with the chief officers, Leon and Lugo, who were relatives of mine; eventually, word reached Cortes. As a result, the doorway was secretly broken open, and Cortes, with some of our officers, went into the hidden room.

Their expectations were completely fulfilled. They found such a huge amount of trinkets, thick and thin plates of gold, chalchihuis, and other precious items piled up together that they were stunned, amazed at the sight of such incredible wealth. Soon, everyone in our group heard about this, and also visited the hidden treasure. I did the same, and as I was still a young man then and had never seen such vast riches, I thought that even all the rest of the world put together could not match such an enormous amount of wealth. Still, all our officers and soldiers agreed to leave everything untouched, and the doorway was sealed back up as before—nor was Motecusuma told of what we had found.

As all of us, officers and privates alike, were experienced, energetic, and determined men, always aware that the Lord Jesus Christ had helped us in all our efforts with his divine hand, we selected four officers and twelve of our most trustworthy and faithful soldiers—myself among them—to approach Cortes. We explained to him that we were trapped in this powerful city, as if caught in a net or cage. We reminded him about the bridges and causeways, the warnings we had received in every town we passed about Motecusuma, and that we had been told Huitzilopochtli had advised Motecusuma to let us enter the city calmly, only to later attack us by surprise and destroy us. He should keep in mind the fickleness of people in general, and particularly of the Indians, and not to trust in the kindness and friendship Motecusuma currently showed us. Everything could change instantly—and even if Motecusuma did not attack us outright, he only needed to cut off our food and water or destroy some of the bridges, and we would be doomed. He, Cortes, should remember what a large body of warriors was always around the monarch, and how powerless we would be to defend ourselves, since all the houses stood surrounded by water. We could not expect any help from our Tlascallan friends, as they would be completely cut off from us.

Taking all this into account, we believed that the only way to secure our lives was to seize the monarch without delay. All the gold the king had given us, all we had seen in his father’s treasury, and all the fine provisions he had provided, would not make us ignore our concerns. These worries kept us awake night and day, and if some of the men seemed unconcerned, it was only a few narrow-minded people whose desire for gold blinded them to the danger ahead.

Cortes replied to our concerns: “Do not think, gentlemen, that I rest easy, or that what you have said has not also troubled me. But we should first consider carefully whether you think we are strong enough in numbers to attempt such a bold move—to seize this mighty king in his own palace, surrounded by his guards and warriors. I do not see how we can do it without risking being attacked by his troops.”

Our four officers—Leon, Ordas, Sandoval, and Alvarado—said that the only way would be somehow to lure the monarch out of his palace, then bring him to our quarters and inform him he was now our prisoner. If he resisted or raised an alarm, we would quickly knock him down. If Cortes objected to taking part, they begged him to let them carry out the plan themselves. There was as much risk one way as the other, but it was better to take the king than wait for him to attack us, for then what chance of escape would we have?

Besides this, several of us had started to notice that Motecusuma’s house-steward seemed to be getting haughtier and that our meals were no longer supplied as generously as before. Also, our Tlascallan friends had secretly told Aguilar that for the past two days, the Mexicans seemed to be planning something sinister.

We spent an hour debating whether to capture Motecusuma and how we would do it. In the end, we decided to seize him the next day, and Cortes fully agreed. That entire night was spent in prayer with Father Olmedo, asking for the Almighty’s help in this righteous cause.

The next morning, two Tlascallans arrived in secret at our quarters with a letter from Vera Cruz, telling Cortes that Juan de Escalante had been killed, along with six other Spaniards, in a fight with the Mexicans. A horse had also been killed, and all the Totonacs with him had been slain. All the mountain tribes and the Sempoallans had turned against us. They would no longer supply the town with food or help build fortifications, and the garrison hardly knew what to do in its current crisis.

After this defeat, the belief that the Spaniards were teules vanished. The Totonac tribes and the Mexicans began making threats, and the deep respect they had felt for us turned to complete contempt.

God alone knows what a shock this news was for us. It was the first defeat we had suffered in New Spain, and the reader can see how quickly fortune can turn from good to bad. We had only just entered this great city and received a splendid, triumphant welcome. We believed we were well on the path to wealth with all the gifts Motecusuma gave us every day. We had seen Axayacatl’s treasure. Until now, we had been seen as teules—supernatural beings—who could not be defeated in battle. Now, all that had vanished at once. We seemed like other men, able to be beaten, and the Indians began to show insolence and arrogance towards us.

This gave us even more reason to take decisive action, so we resolved to take Motecusuma prisoner, even if we risked our lives in the attempt.

But first, I will describe the battle in which Escalante and six other Spaniards lost their lives.

## CHAPTER XCIV. {.chapter}
*Of the battle which the Mexican generals fought with Escalante and the Totonac tribes.*

The reader will recall, a few chapters back, how we were quartered in the township of Quiahuitzlan, with many allied tribes friendly with Sempoalla gathered around us there. Over thirty townships, at Cortes’s command, refused to pay any more tribute to Motecusuma and threw off his rule. It was also at that time that the Mexican tax collectors were imprisoned by the Sempoallans at our suggestion. After all this, we left Sempoalla and began our march towards Mexico, leaving Juan de Escalante as governor of Vera Cruz, with specific instructions to protect our allies.

Motecusuma maintained garrisons in every province of his empire, always stationed on the frontiers. For example, there were garrisons in Xoconoctico to guard Guatimala and Chiapa, in Coatzacoalco, in Mechoacan, and another on the border of Panuco, between Tuzapan and a northern coastal town called Almeria. When the Almeria garrison demanded tribute in the form of provisions from the surrounding towns, those towns refused (since they were allied with Sempoalla and had helped Escalante build the fortress), saying that Malinche had ordered it and that Motecusuma himself had agreed.

The Mexican chiefs would not accept this answer and declared they would destroy every town that refused to pay tribute, making slaves of the people, for they were bound to obey Motecusuma’s recent command.

On hearing these threats, the Totonac tribes asked Escalante for help against the coming Mexican attack. Escalante accordingly sent messengers to the Mexican chiefs, ordering them to leave those tribes alone, as this was the wish of Motecusuma, with whom we were on friendly terms; and if they refused, he would march against them and treat them as enemies.

The Mexicans laughed at these warnings and arrogantly replied, “We will meet you on the battlefield!” Escalante, a man of great courage and action, ordered our mountain allies to prepare for battle. He picked from his own men those who were healthiest and best able to fight.

Thus, he marched out against the Mexicans with two cannon, a small amount of powder, three crossbowmen, two musketeers, forty Spanish soldiers, and over 2000 Totonacs. The Mexicans had twice as many warriors as the Totonac allies, who, scared by previous battles, abandoned Escalante after the first attack. Escalante then pushed on to Almeria, which he set on fire. He halted there for a short time, being badly wounded himself. In the fighting there, Escalante lost a horse, and one of his men—Arguello, a young man of remarkable strength, wild looks, a large head, and a thick curly beard—was captured alive by the Mexicans. Six others of his men were also gravely wounded. The only option left for Escalante was to return to Vera Cruz. He and six more of his men died three days after they got back.

This is exactly what happened at Almeria, not as Gomara says, who claims the whole affair took place under Pedro de Ircio, who supposedly went out to Panuco with a few men to found a colony there; though we had scarcely enough soldiers at Vera Cruz even for guard duty, let alone sending out a colony to distant Panuco. Besides, Ircio was not even an officer then—he was not a corporal, nor had he anything to do with this matter, being with us in Mexico at the time. Likewise, Gomara tells his stories about our imprisoning Motecusuma, not thinking that several of us Conquistadores were still living, and after reading his book, could say how things really happened.

Now, let us see how the Mexican generals reported their victory to Motecusuma and sent him Arguello’s head—who likely died of his wounds on the way. We later learned that Motecusuma was horrified at the sight of Arguello’s giant bearded head. He could not stand to look at it, nor would he let it be brought near any of the temples in Mexico, but ordered it given to the idols of some other town. Yet he asked how it was that his troops—many thousands strong—could not defeat such a small group of teules. His captains replied that, despite fighting bravely, they could not force the Spaniards to retreat, because a great Spanish *tecleciguata* had led them, filling the Mexicans with fear and encouraging the teules by her words.

Motecusuma believed this great leader was the Virgin Mary, whom we had said, along with her heavenly Son in her arms, was our main source of strength.

I did not myself witness this apparition, as I was in Mexico at the time. But several Conquistadores told of it as a fact; and may it be so, with God’s blessing. It is true, in any case, that the protection of the Virgin Mary was always with us.

## CHAPTER XCV. {.chapter}
*Of the imprisonment of Motecusuma, and what followed.*

After we decided to seize Motecusuma, we spent the entire night on our knees in prayer, asking the Almighty for help in this bold endeavor, hoping it would honor His holy religion. When morning came, we made the necessary arrangements for this purpose.

Everyone was ordered to be ready to march at a moment’s notice, and the horses were to stay saddled. I don’t need to repeat that our arms were always ready—none of us ever let them out of our hands, day or night. Even our alpargates, the only footwear we had, were never taken off.

Our general now set out with our five chief officers: Alvarado, Sandoval, Lugo, Leon, and Avila. Also with us were our interpreters, Marina and Aguilar. Cortes and his officers wore full armor, though this wouldn’t seem strange to Motecusuma, who never saw them otherwise when they visited him. As before, Cortes sent someone ahead to announce his approach, so Motecusuma would not notice any change in our behavior or become anxious about our unexpected visit. Still, Motecusuma’s conscience was uneasy after the events at Almeria, and he feared it might bring misfortune. Nevertheless, he replied that our visit would be welcome.

After Cortes entered Motecusuma’s chamber and the usual greetings passed, he addressed him: “I am greatly surprised that a prince of your power, who calls himself our friend, would order his troops on the coast near Tuzapan to take up arms against my Spanish soldiers, demanding people for sacrifice from towns that have placed themselves under our emperor’s protection. That’s not all—they have plundered those places and even killed one of my men and a horse.”

Cortes wisely avoided mentioning the death of Escalante and the other six, since Motecusuma and his generals knew nothing of that yet.

“How differently we behaved!” Cortes continued. “I relied on your friendship, and told my officers to comply with your wishes whenever possible. You, on the contrary, have done exactly the opposite. Also, you once sent a force to Cholulla to destroy us all. Out of friendship, I did not mention then that I knew about this. Right now your generals are plotting in secret to kill us. Still, despite this betrayal, I will not wage war on you, which would only lead to your city’s complete destruction. Instead, to keep the peace, you must make a small sacrifice and follow us quietly to our quarters and stay there. You’ll receive the same care and respect as if in your own palace. But if you cause alarm or call out now, you will die on the spot. That’s why I bring these officers with me today.”

These words threw Motecusuma into such sudden terror that he was speechless for a while. At last, he found his voice and insisted that he had never ordered anyone to take up arms against us. He said he would send for his generals at once, learn the truth of the matter, and punish the guilty. To give such an important order, he removed the seal and mark of Huitzilopochtli, which he always wore around his wrist—only doing so for urgent commands, to make sure he was promptly obeyed. He was greatly surprised that we dared to take him prisoner against his will. No one had the right to make such a demand, he said, and he saw no reason to comply.

Cortes replied, giving strong reasons for our decision, but Motecusuma kept providing stronger reasons not to comply, standing firm in his refusal to leave the palace.

After more than half an hour of this disagreement, our officers lost patience and said heatedly to Cortes, “Why waste so many words? He must either come quietly with us or we cut him down now. Tell him—our lives depend on it. We must show resolve, or we are lost.”

Juan Velasquez spoke these words loudly and harshly. Hearing this and noticing the officers’ stern looks, Motecusuma asked Marina what the loud man had said.

Marina, shrewd as ever and quick to help us, replied, “Great monarch, if you will let me advise you, make no more difficulties, but go with them to their quarters right away. I am sure they will show you every respect, as is fitting for a powerful monarch. But if you keep refusing, they will kill you here on the spot.”

Motecusuma then turned to Cortes and said: “Malinche, since you place no trust in me, take my son and my two legitimate daughters as hostages—only don’t shame me by demanding my own person. What will the grandees of my empire say if they see me taken prisoner?”

Cortes insisted that only Motecusuma’s own presence would guarantee our safety, and there was no other way to calm our fears. After much more discussion, Motecusuma finally agreed to go quietly with us.

Once he made this decision, our officers treated him with the utmost courtesy, apologized for the distress caused, and asked him to tell his generals and bodyguard that he was choosing, of his own free will, to stay in our quarters. They suggested he explain that this was done upon the advice of Huitzilopochtli and his priests, for his health and safety.

His luxurious sedan was brought—the one he used when leaving the palace with his entourage—and he followed us to our quarters, where we carefully guarded him. Each of us did our best to make him comfortable, and we provided every entertainment we could think of, to keep his confinement as pleasant as possible.

Soon, all the Mexican nobles, along with his nephew, came to ask why he was imprisoned and whether they should start hostilities against us. But Motecusuma told them he was simply choosing to spend a few days with us, and that this move was his own decision. He said he would make his wishes known to them if he had any complaint. They didn’t need to worry, but should keep the city calm and not concern themselves further. He also said that Huitzilopochtli had fully approved his decision, as many priests who consulted the god admitted.

These are the true events concerning Motecusuma’s imprisonment. He was always attended by his full household, had all his wives with him, and continued to bathe daily as he did in his own palace. He was always accompanied by twenty of his generals and counselors and showed no outward sign of distress about his captivity. Disputes from the farthest parts of the empire were brought to him for judgment as usual; tribute was still collected, and he proceeded with matters of state as before. His subjects still honored his person, and distinguished princes who visited him on business took off their rich garments, put on simple nequen cloth, and came barefoot. They did not enter by the main door, but used side entrances, kept their eyes lowered, made three prostrations, and said, “Lord, my lord, great lord!” Then they presented their requests or cases using pictures on nequen cloth, employing thin sticks to point out details and explain their business.

Motecusuma always had two old, honored caziques by his side, who advised him after careful discussion. The monarch then gave his decision in a few words. The parties then left silently, without turning their backs to him, making three deep bows as they departed; only afterward, outside, would they put their fine clothes back on and stroll through the city.

After some time, the generals who fought against Escalante were brought before Motecusuma as prisoners. I do not know what he said to them, but he sent them to Cortes for judgment. These men confessed they had followed the orders of their monarch—to collect tribute by force of arms, and, if protected by the teules, to attack the rebels as well.

Cortes relayed their statements to Motecusuma, saying the monarch was not to blame for the events. Under our emperor’s laws, a man who killed another was put to death, no matter what the circumstances. Still, he loved Motecusuma enough to take responsibility for the matter himself rather than place it on him. However, since the monarch was still troubled, our general did not hesitate further—he sentenced the Mexicans to death, and they were burned alive in front of Motecusuma’s palace.\[69*\]

To make sure nothing disrupted these executions, Cortes ordered chains to be put on Motecusuma. At first, Motecusuma objected, but in the end he quietly submitted and actually became more gentle afterward. After the executions, Cortes came to him with five officers and personally removed the chains, assuring him that he loved him more than a brother. He told him that, great as he was, new territories would be added to his empire, and he could visit any of his palaces whenever he wished.

At these words, Motecusuma was moved to tears; though he knew they were empty words, he nonetheless thanked Cortes for the kindness and said he did not wish to leave at present.

His nephews, family, and nobles pressed him daily, urging him to let them make war on us and free him. It required all his persuasion to stop them from immediately taking up arms. They said if he could just leave our quarters, they would rescue him by force, the whole city would rise, and if he refused to join them, they would care little and choose a new king. But Motecusuma succeeded in calming them by insisting Huitzilopochtli had advised him to endure his confinement.

To explain Motecusuma’s compliance, I should add that Cortes had Aguilar secretly tell him that, even if the general allowed his release, it would be pointless, as all the officers and soldiers would be against it. Cortes pretended not to know this, and publicly embraced Motecusuma with assurances of true friendship. He also gave him his page, Orteguilla, who had learned some of the Mexican language, since Motecusuma wanted a Spanish attendant. The young man proved very helpful to both Motecusuma and to us, since he learned much about Spain from him, while we in turn learned much of what passed between Motecusuma and his generals. The page was always attentive to the monarch, who became very fond of him. In general, Motecusuma seemed content with our attentions, and enjoyed our company more and more; whenever any of us passed, he would talk with us—Cortes included. We felt quite at ease with him, even in Cortes’s presence, and took off our helmets in front of him, though we never laid aside our weapons. Motecusuma always showed us respect.

The severe example Cortes made of the Mexican generals had great effect. News of it spread quickly across New Spain; the tribes near the coast who had defeated our forces in Vera Cruz became frightened and returned to support the garrison there.

I now ask the kind reader to pause and consider the heroic feats we achieved, and their magnitude. First, we destroyed all our vessels, cutting off any hope of escape from this land. Then we dared enter this great city—despite all warnings that we would only be admitted to be destroyed more easily. We had the audacity to imprison the mighty Motecusuma in his own city, in his very palace, amid countless troops. Finally, we openly burned his generals in front of his palace and put Motecusuma himself in chains while we did it! Even now, in my old age, these deeds remain vivid in my mind. I feel I see it all again—but I must admit that, though we had our hands full, we were aided by Divine Providence. Where else and when will such a handful of soldiers—barely 550, more than 6,000 miles from home—dare to march into a city larger than Venice, seize its monarch, and execute his generals before his very eyes? Such things should inspire deep thought, not be mentioned as briefly as I do here. But it is time to continue my history.

## CHAPTER XCVI. {.chapter}
*How our general appoints Alonso Grado lieutenant of Vera Cruz, and Sandoval alguacil-major of the same place.*

After the execution of the Mexican generals, and after Motecusuma calmed down again, Cortes dispatched one of our officers, named Alonso de Grado—a very active, handsome, and intelligent man—to Vera Cruz, giving him the position of lieutenant. In addition to being an excellent musician, he was also an outstanding penman.

Grado was among those who had always opposed our march to Mexico, especially during the intrigue and dissent during our stay in Tlascala. He insisted then that we should return to Vera Cruz, and often spoke harshly against our general. He was skillful in various areas and successful in his undertakings, and this is how he once again received command of Vera Cruz—though he was not much of a soldier. Cortes, well aware of his character and lack of courage, said to him, half-joking, as he gave him the post, “Your wish to go to Vera Cruz, Alonso de Grado, is about to come true. There you must diligently continue building the fortress; but don’t get involved in any military actions: it may turn out as badly for you as it did for Juan de Escalante!”

While Cortes was saying this, he winked at those present, as if to indicate that if Grado was ever needed in battle, we would have to drag him there by force.

When Grado’s appointment and instructions were about to be formalized, he also requested that Cortes grant him the post of alguacil-major, which Escalante had previously held in addition to his lieutenantship. However, our commander told him that position had already been given to Sandoval, but said that soon he would give Grado another appointment. Cortes especially instructed him to act like a father toward the people of Vera Cruz and not allow any harsh treatment of the Indian population. Finally, he ordered him to have the local smith make two heavy iron chains and send them, together with the anchors taken from our ships, immediately to Mexico.

However, Alonso de Grado’s actions were little in line with the instructions he had received. Toward the Spanish garrison at Vera Cruz, his behavior was extremely haughty. He demanded the men serve him as if he were a nobleman and required gold trinkets and beautiful women from the thirty allied tribes in the area. He neglected the completion of the fortress and instead spent his time feasting and gambling. Furthermore, he returned to his old resentment for Cortes, working to win over the general’s friends and others for the cause of Diego Velasquez, proposing that if Velasquez himself or anyone sent by him appeared off the coast, they should cooperate and hand over the territory.

Cortes was informed of all this and bitterly regretted choosing this man, whose character and scheming nature he had known from the start.

Since Cortes still feared that Diego Velasquez might somehow find out about our mission to the emperor—and not just foil our plans, but also send a force against us—he knew it was necessary to place a reliable man in Vera Cruz. He chose Sandoval, who became alguacil-major after Escalante’s death. Sandoval was accompanied by Ircio, who, according to Gomara, founded a settlement in Panuco. Ircio had once been groom to the Earl of Ureña and also to Don Pedro Giron, and entertained Sandoval with stories of his adventures—through this, he gained Sandoval’s close friendship and eventually received a captaincy. However, he later repaid this with ingratitude and slandered Sandoval so egregiously that he could have been punished by law, but Sandoval decided only to reprimand him severely.

Leaving this topic, I will now tell that Sandoval, upon arrival in Vera Cruz, followed Cortes' orders, arrested Grado, and sent him under heavy guard of Indian allies to Mexico. Sandoval quickly won over the whole garrison, starting his leadership by providing food for the sick and treating the people with every possible kindness, always working for the benefit of the surrounding allied towns. He also immediately attended to the completion of the fortress, acting in every way as an active and vigilant commander, who, as will be shown, rendered great service to Cortes and all of us.

Now, returning to Grado—he soon arrived at Mexico escorted by our Indian allies. His request for an audience with Cortes was denied, and he was thrown into a wooden cage that had just been built. I still clearly remember the wood of this cage had a strong smell of garlic and onions. Nonetheless, Grado spent two whole days in it. Yet, like someone never at a loss, he managed to soften Cortes' anger with solemn promises of future obedience. Not only did he regain his freedom, but from then on, as I witnessed myself, he became a close associate of our general, who, although never again trusting him with military command, employed him in work suited to his skills. Later, he appointed him auditor of the army’s accounts—a position previously held by Avila, whom Cortes had already sent, as his attorney, to St. Domingo, as will be explained later.

Before closing this chapter, I should mention that Cortes also had Sandoval, upon his arrival at Vera Cruz, send him the two local smiths with all their tools, as well as a supply of iron, the two heavy iron chains that were ready, and some sails, rigging, pitch, and a compass—all of which Cortes needed to build brigantines for navigating the lake of Mexico.

## CHAPTER XCVII. {.chapter}
*How we entertained and amused Motecusuma during his confinement, and granted him permission to visit his temple.*

Our general was someone who thought of everything and tried as much as possible to lighten the monarch’s confinement, so he would not feel his misfortune too deeply. Every morning, after we had said prayers, Cortes would visit Motecusuma along with four of our principal officers, to ask about his health and needs, and to entertain him in any way they could. Their efforts were such that one day Motecusuma himself said his confinement was not unpleasant for him, as our gods had given us the power to take him prisoner, and Huitzilopochtli had allowed it.

Sometimes, Motecusuma and Cortes played a game called *totoloc* by the Mexicans; it is played with small round shiny balls, here made of gold, pitched at a certain mark, also of gold. Five throws make up the game, and the stakes were valuable gold trinkets and jewels. I remember once, when Motecusuma and Cortes were playing, Alvarado was scoring for Cortes, and a distinguished cazique—Motecusuma’s nephew—scored for the monarch. Alvarado continually gave Cortes one point too many. Motecusuma noticed and, smiling, remarked that he wasn’t exactly pleased when *Tonatio* (as they called Alvarado) kept the tally, as he was guilty of *Ixoxol* in the scoring—that is, marking falsely by always giving one too many.

Cortes and those of us present at the time could not help but laugh at the monarch’s observation. And why did we find it so amusing? Because Alvarado, despite being a handsome and refined man, couldn’t resist cheating at the score and was caught at it. Still, all the winnings were shared among those present: Cortes gave his winnings to the monarch’s nephew and servants; Motecusuma gave what he won to his own attendants and those on duty at the time. Every day, he also gave valuable gold trinkets and fine garments to Velasquez de Leon, who was very kind to him and captain of the guard, as well as to those on guard duty.

One night, a sailor named Truxillo was standing guard in the monarch’s apartment. This fellow, who was very stout and strong, forgot himself in a way that, out of respect for the reader, I will not describe in detail. Motecusuma, who was a man of refined manners, noticed it at once and felt insulted. He asked his page, Orteguilla, who the ill-bred fellow was. Orteguilla answered that he was a sailor, and that such men had little knowledge of good manners. On this occasion, Orteguilla also explained to the monarch the rank of everyone—who were caballeros and who were not, and many other things Motecusuma wanted to know. The monarch, however, had not forgotten the insult; as soon as morning came, he sent for the offender, upbraided him for his disrespect, and told him to behave better, but sweetened his words by giving him gold trinkets worth about five pesos. The sailor, though, was unmoved and repeated his crude behavior the next night, hoping for another gift. Motecusuma, however, would not speak to him again, but instead complained to the captain of the guard and asked that the man be reprimanded and never again posted as sentinel.

A similar thing happened to a soldier named Lopez, an excellent crossbowman and well-built, although somewhat dull. One night, while on duty in the monarch’s quarters, the corporal making the rounds heard Lopez say, “A curse on this dog, this standing guard at night will be the death of me!”

Motecusuma overheard and was deeply offended. When Cortes visited him the next morning, the monarch complained bitterly of the insult. Cortes was furious and ordered Lopez to be whipped. After that, everyone on guard in the monarch’s apartment acted with the utmost respect. As for me, and others like me who sometimes stood guard there, we didn’t need instruction on how to act in the presence of so great a monarch, who got to know all our names and personalities, was always kind to us, and often gave us gold trinkets, fine cottons, and even women. At that time, I was still a young man, and whenever I stood guard in his room I behaved with the greatest respect, always removing my cap when passing by him. This caught his attention, and, upon asking who I was, Orteguilla told him I had taken part in the two previous voyages of discovery to that region. When I asked Orteguilla to mention that I would like a pretty Mexican woman, Motecusuma called for me and said, “I hear, Bernal Diaz del Castillo, that you have plenty of gold and cottons, but I will give you a beautiful young woman. Treat her well, for she is of noble birth, and she will bring you more gold and fine cottons.”

I thanked the monarch respectfully for his kindness and wished God’s blessing upon him. After Orteguilla interpreted my answer, Motecusuma said, “Bernal Diaz seems to me to have the feelings of a true gentleman,” and ordered three small gold plates and two additional packages of cotton to be given to me.

As for Motecusuma’s daily routine, he would begin each morning with prayers and offerings to his gods. He then had a light breakfast, consisting only of *agi*. After that, he gave an hour’s audience to the caziques, who came from far and wide to present disputes and receive his judgment. The rest of the day he spent in amusement, especially with his concubines, of whom he had many; sometimes he married some of them to his generals, his favorites, or even to us soldiers—as I, for instance, received Doña Francisca, who was clearly a woman of distinction. Now and then, Motecusuma laughed, while at other times he would appear pensive and reflect on his confinement.

To return to the soldier whom Cortes punished for calling Motecusuma a dog—many to whom I've told this were surprised at the severity of the punishment, since the insult was not said directly to Motecusuma, and considering our small numbers and the likelihood that the Mexicans would hear of it. My answer is that all of us, even Cortes, paid Motecusuma the deepest respect, and none of us passed by without uncovering our heads. Furthermore, he was so kind and courteous to us that even if he had not been the monarch of New Spain, we would have felt obliged to treat him, and his good manners, with every possible courtesy.

It's also important to remember that our lives depended on him; at his signal, his people would have rushed to rescue him. He was always surrounded by high-ranking individuals, and many princes from distant parts of his empire came to see him just as if he were still a free monarch in his own palace. So it should be no surprise that Cortes punished any disrespect toward him so severely; he was only acting as the situation demanded.

## CHAPTER XCVIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes orders two large brigantines to be built for the navigation of the lake of Mexico; Motecusuma begs permission to visit his temples to offer up his prayers there; and what Cortes said to him when he granted this permission.*

Once the necessary materials arrived for building the two brigantines, Cortes told Motecusuma he planned to construct two small pleasure boats to sail on the lake of Mexico, and asked him to have his carpenters cut wood and help our own shipbuilders, Martin Lopez and Alonso Nuñez, with the vessels.

There was plenty of timber about sixteen miles from the city, and it could be brought easily. With so many Indians helping, construction moved quickly and the brigantines were soon finished and well equipped, with canopies to shield from the sun. Both vessels turned out well and sailed remarkably fast.

This Lopez was not only an excellent soldier, but a highly skilled craftsman, and later built the thirteen brigantines that were such a great help in conquering Mexico, as will be described when the time comes.

Around this time, Motecusuma requested permission to visit his temple to make his devotions there and offer sacrifices to his idols. He said his reason was not only to fulfill his religious duties, but also to show his generals, courtiers, and in particular his relatives (who begged him daily to let them rescue him and start a war with us) that he had chosen of his own free will to remain with us and that Huitzilopochtli had allowed it.

In response, Cortes said he feared for his own life, as the generals and priests might try to seize Motecusuma and attack us—and the king’s life might be lost in the struggle. Nevertheless, Cortes was not inclined to refuse him, but said he could go early in the morning, with the condition that no human sacrifices would be performed, since such acts were a grave sin against the one true God, whom we had made known to him. Cortes also remarked it would be better to perform his devotions before our altars and the image of the holy Virgin.

Motecusuma assured Cortes that he would not permit any human sacrifices to take place. With permission, the monarch set out in a grand procession to the temple, wearing his richest garments and accompanied by his most distinguished courtiers, with the usual pomp, and the staff of honor carried before him. Four of our highest officers—Leon, Alvarado, Avila, and Lugo—plus 150 soldiers, accompanied him as a guard, and father Olmedo was present to ensure no human sacrifices occurred.

When Motecusuma reached the cursed temple of Huitzilopochtli, his nephews and other noblemen helped him out of his litter. As the procession advanced, all the Mexican nobility kept their gaze fixed to the ground, not daring to meet the monarch’s eyes. At the foot of the temple, several priests helped him climb the steps. The night before, four Indians had already been sacrificed; for despite all Cortes and father Olmedo’s warnings, these abominations continued. At that time all we could do was to pretend not to know about it, since Mexico and other major cities were already being stirred into rebellion by Motecusuma’s nephews, as I will soon explain.

After his brief devotions, the monarch returned with us to our quarters, seemingly in better spirits, and gave each of us who had accompanied him golden trinkets.

## CHAPTER XCIX. {.chapter}
*How our two brigantines are launched, and Motecusuma, expressing a wish to go hunting, sails in one of these vessels to a river where he usually went for that purpose.*

When both our brigantines had been launched, fully rigged, and manned with sailors, Motecusuma expressed a wish to take a trip by water to a river at the foot of a mountain on the lake's shore where he was accustomed to hunt. No one, not even his top officials, dared visit this place to hunt game, under penalty of death. Cortes replied that, for his part, he had no objection, but again reminded Motecusuma of what he had told him during his visit to the temple. He also suggested that he use one of the brigantines for this excursion, as they were much safer than canoes or pirogues.

Motecusuma was very pleased with this offer and boarded the better of the two brigantines, accompanied by many of his leading officers. The other brigantine carried a son of the monarch, also attended by many caziques, while the royal huntsmen followed in local canoes. Cortes brought with him Leon, Alvarado, Oli, and Avila, along with 200 of our troops, instructing them to pay close attention to everything and to watch Motecusuma carefully. In addition, four cannons with the necessary powder and our artillerymen were brought on board, so every precaution was taken. Luckily, a steady breeze rose just as the brigantines set out, allowing us to make good use of the sails. The monarch greatly enjoyed, as he put it, "flying across the lake," and the canoes, full of huntsmen and other Mexican nobles, could not keep up no matter how many rowers they had. This amused Motecusuma greatly, and he commented that it took great skill to combine the power of sails and oars.

The river, which was not far away, was soon reached. There, Motecusuma made a great slaughter among the deer, hares, and rabbits, and returned highly pleased to his capital. As we neared Mexico, he asked our officers to fire the cannons, which delighted him even more. We saw that he was open and sincere, and we truly enjoyed giving him the same respect that his own great nobles showed him. But if I tried to describe the extent of his grandeur and the absolute submission and deep reverence that every prince of New Spain and other provinces showed him, I would hardly know where to begin or end. If he only spoke a word, everything he desired was immediately brought to him, as the following example shows. One day, when many of us officers and soldiers were with Motecusuma, a hawk attacked a quail. These quails, along with other birds and many pigeons, were kept by his Indian major domo, whose job was also to keep our quarters clean and tidy. The hawk caught its prey and flew off. As we watched, one of our men, Francisco de Azenedo, exclaimed, “Oh! What a fine bird! How beautifully it flies away with its prey!” We all agreed, remarking that this country was full of birds that could be excellently trained for falconry.

Motecusuma, noticing our lively conversation, was curious to know what it was about and asked his page Orteguilla, who told him we were admiring the hawk that had seized the quail, and added that if we had such a bird, we could train it to fly from the hand and hunt birds of any size.

Motecusuma replied, "Then I will have that very hawk caught, and we shall see whether it can be taught as you say." We all took off our caps and thanked him for his kindness. Motecusuma then sent for his birdcatchers and ordered them to bring him the hawk in question. They immediately set to work, and before the hour of Ave Maria, they had actually caught the bird and presented it to Azenedo, who immediately recognized, by its plumage, that it was the very same one we had seen. We witnessed many such instances, and even stronger proof, of how punctually the monarch’s orders were carried out. Even now, during his confinement, his subjects not only continued to bring him tributes from the most remote regions of New Spain, but also obeyed his orders implicitly and stood in such awe of him that even birds in the sky were caught for him if he wished.

Now it is time to recount how quickly fortune turned against us, as a conspiracy was hatched by the inhabitants to put us all to death.

## CHAPTER C. {.chapter}
*How the nephews of Motecusuma assembled the principal people of the empire, and formed a conspiracy to rescue the monarch from confinement, and drive us out of the city.*

When Cacamatzin, the prince of Tezcuco—next to Mexico, the largest city in all New Spain—learned of his uncle Motecusuma’s imprisonment, and that we were taking everything we could lay our hands on (even opening the treasure of his ancestor Axayacatl, though leaving it untouched for now), he resolved to put an end to our power before we could take him prisoner as well.

He therefore called together all the chiefs of Tezcuco, along with the prince of Cojohuacan—his cousin and Motecusuma's nephew—and also the princes of Tlacupa and Iztapalapan, as well as another powerful cazique, the prince of Matlaltzinco, a man of great courage, so closely related to Motecusuma that many believed the crown ought to have fallen to him.

These powerful caziques, together with other Mexican generals, set a day when all their warriors would unite and attack us with combined forces. It appears the prince of Matlaltzinco, considered the kingdom’s bravest man and one with a strong claim to the crown, agreed to join the conspiracy only on the condition that he be made king. He planned to lead his army into Mexico first, drive us out or kill us. Cacamatzin, however, claimed the crown should fall to him, as Motecusuma's nephew, and asserted he could defeat us without paying so high a price for Matlaltzinco’s help. Still, the princes agreed to meet on a certain day before Mexico, and the troops there would, at a signal, rise up and admit them into the city.

Motecusuma received word of this through the prince of Matlaltzinco, who had quarreled with Cacamatzin. To confirm the rumor, the prince had all the grandees of Mexico summoned before Motecusuma. They admitted that Cacamatzin had won them over with gifts and promises to join the attack on us and to liberate their imprisoned monarch.

Motecusuma, who was extremely wise and did not want his capital to become a scene of rebellion and bloodshed, informed Cortes of the plot. Our commander and indeed every soldier among us already knew of the unrest, though perhaps not every detail. Cortes proposed to Motecusuma that he put all his troops under our command so, together, we could attack Tezcuco, destroy the city, and lay waste to the province.

As Motecusuma was unwilling to do this, Cortes sent a message to Cacamatzin, warning him that starting a war with us would mean his death. He said we wished for friendship and to be of service to him.

Cacamatzin, however, was young and hot-tempered, urged on by many chiefs to attack us. He sent word to Cortes, saying he had heard enough of his smooth words and did not wish for any more messages; the time to talk would be when their armies met on the battlefield.

Cortes sent him a second warning, urging him to think carefully before insulting our emperor in our persons, warning that such presumption would cost him dearly and he would be put to death.

The prince arrogantly replied that he knew nothing of our emperor and wished he had never heard of Cortes, since he had deceived his uncle so badly with flattery.

With this reply, Cortes urged Motecusuma to use his own authority against the rebels, pointing out that there were many powerful men and relatives in Tezcuco hostile to Cacamatzin because of his bullying. One of his brothers, a promising young man who had fled to Mexico for protection from death at Cacamatzin’s hands, was among these. Cortes suggested Motecusuma order the grandees of Tezcuco to seize Cacamatzin or lure him to Mexico to be imprisoned until he came to his senses, and to transfer sovereignty to the brother who had sought refuge in Mexico. Cacamatzin had lost any right to rule by trying to revolt and usurp Motecusuma’s throne.

Motecusuma now hesitated no longer, promising to send for Cacamatzin, though he doubted he would come. If he did, though, his officers would seize him. Cortes thanked Motecusuma for this, saying, “Great monarch, if you wanted to return to your palace, I would gladly let you, because I see your honest intentions. My friendship for you is so strong that I would have already taken you back to your palace in great state, if it had depended just on me, and if you didn’t believe it wise to remain with us to avoid being swept up in your nephews’ rebellion. Indeed, I would never have deprived you of your liberty except to yield to my officers, who believe our own safety depends on us keeping you with us.” Motecusuma trusted Cortes even more, especially after Orteguilla assured him that only the officers forced his confinement, and Cortes could not act alone in the matter. Motecusuma told Cortes, “I would rather stay with you, until I know more of my nephews’ real intentions.” He sent trusted people to Cacamatzin to invite him to Mexico, pretending he wanted a reconciliation. He told him not to worry about his confinement, since he could leave anytime he wished; Malinche himself had twice invited him to return to his palace, but he had refused so as not to go against the advice of his gods, who, through priests, told him to stay our prisoner for a certain time to save his life. So it was in his own best interest to stay friendly with Malinche and the Spaniards.

Motecusuma also sent similar messages to the other chiefs of Tezcuco, saying he had invited his nephew to Mexico to restore friendship among us. They were to prevent any actions the young firebrand might take to start a war. When the message was received, Cacamatzin and his closest supporters met to discuss what to do. He started with a proud, angry speech, vowing to destroy us all within four days. He called his uncle a cowardly old woman for not attacking us as advised when we came down the mountain of Chalco, when all their warriors were waiting. Motecusuma had invited us as if we were there to do him good; gave us all the gold collected by tribute; and we had even opened the secret treasury of Axayacatl. We kept the monarch imprisoned and kept telling him to abandon his gods for ours. He had suffered enough injury, but to end it and see justice done, Cacamatzin urged them to give him their full support. All he said, they knew was true. They had seen with their own eyes the burning of Motecusuma’s generals at the stake—now only a bold action remained to deal with us.

He backed his speech with promises of rewards when he took the throne, and gave them gifts on the spot. He assured them he was in close communication with the princes of Cojohuacan, Iztapalapan, Tlacupa, and others, who would all join him. In Mexico itself, he had won over many leading men, who would join the revolt at a moment’s notice. It would be easy to get into Mexico—some troops taking the causeways, the main body coming by canoes and pirogues. There would be no resistance, as the uncle was imprisoned and could issue no orders. They need not fear us, for his uncle’s generals had just killed several of the teules and one of their horses near Almeria. The dead horse and a human head had been shown to everyone in Mexico. In an hour, he claimed, they could capture all of us and feast on our flesh.

When Cacamatzin finished, the generals stared at each other in silence, waiting for someone else to answer. Finally, four or five of the most notable broke the silence, saying that if they began war in their monarch's own capital without his consent, they must first inform him. If he agreed, they would join with all their heart, but would consider themselves traitors if they did otherwise.

This answer angered Cacamatzin greatly. In a rage, he threw three of the dissenting generals into prison. As many of his relatives and some young hotheads like him were present, most supported him to the death. Cacamatzin sent Motecusuma the following reply: “You need not bother urging me to make friends with people who have so badly insulted you by keeping you prisoner. The only explanation is that they are sorcerers who have bound your mind, or that their gods and the Spanish woman they call their protectress have given them power to do whatever they wish.”

In this, Cacamatzin was certainly correct, for the great mercy of God and the blessings of the Virgin Mary were our greatest help. The reply concluded: “I intend to visit you and them, to their sorrow, and speak words of death to you all.”

Motecusuma was deeply angered by this insolent response, and at once called six of his most trusted generals, gave them his seal and riches, and sent them to Tezcuco with instructions to show his signet secretly to his relations and chiefs known to resent Cacamatzin because of his arrogance, to seize him and his supporters and bring them to Mexico.

The officers left for Tezcuco and so promptly executed their orders that they seized Cacamatzin in his palace with five followers. They were bound, loaded into ready canoes, and taken to Mexico.

Upon arrival, Cacamatzin was allowed to sit in his royal sedan, and was led, with all respect, into Motecusuma’s presence.

In his talk with Motecusuma, Cacamatzin was even more defiant than before; and when the other five prisoners revealed he meant to depose Motecusuma and take the crown, the monarch was furious. He ordered the five others released, but Cacamatzin was sent to Cortes, to be kept in his custody.

Cortes thanked Motecusuma for this token of friendship, and with Motecusuma's approval, raised Cacamatzin’s brother—the young man who had sought protection in Mexico—to the throne of Tezcuco. This was done with great ceremony and was celebrated by the people of that city and the region's leaders. The new young king of Tezcuco took the name Don Carlos.\[71*\]

After the other nephews of Motecusuma—the princes of Cojohuacan, Iztapalapan, and Tlacupa—heard of Cacamatzin’s fate, they naturally suspected Motecusuma knew of their role in the conspiracy, and dared not come, as usual, to see him. Yet Motecusuma, in concert with Cortes, ordered them seized as well. Within eight days, all were locked in chains in our quarters.

You can imagine, from all this, that our lives hung by a thin thread, with constant rumors of our imminent slaughter and cannibalism. Here only a merciful Providence protected us. We owed it only to God that Motecusuma himself furthered our aims, and that his people, even during his confinement, continued to obey him completely. We went out of our way to show him our gratitude and to entertain him. No one was allowed to show him disrespect for even a moment, and Cortes himself never sat in his presence unless invited. Not only did we treat him with deep respect, we truly loved him, for in all his actions he proved himself a great monarch. Father Olmedo from time to time also spoke to him about our holy religion. We told him as well of our emperor’s great power and vast territories, which he listened to with pleasure. At other times, he would play the game of totoloc with Cortes, always dividing his winnings among us, for generosity was one of his chief qualities.

## CHAPTER CI. {.chapter}
*How the powerful Motecusuma, with several caziques and chief personages of the country, declare themselves vassals of our emperor; and of other events that happened then.*

As peace had again been restored to the country after the imprisonment of the minor kings, Cortes reminded Motecusuma of the offers he had previously made, before our entering Mexico, to pay tribute to our emperor. At the same time, he pointed out that Motecusuma must now be well aware of the emperor’s power, the vastness of his empire, and the number of his vassals, among whom there were even distinguished sovereigns. Therefore, it would be appropriate if Motecusuma and all his subjects likewise recognized themselves as vassals of our emperor; and it was customary for this act of submission to be followed by the payment of tribute.

In response, Motecusuma said he was quite willing to gather all the grandees of his empire to consult with them about the matter. After ten days, most of the caziques from the surrounding regions assembled, except for the cazique of Matlaltzinco, who was a close relative of Motecusuma and regarded as a man of exceptional bravery. His bearing and physical presence indicated as much, and he was considered Motecusuma’s heir to the throne of Mexico.

However, even this man appeared to be seized with fear; for he sent Motecusuma word from Tula, where he was staying, that it was impossible for him to attend the meeting, nor could he pay tribute; in fact, he could barely support himself with what his province produced.

Angered by this unexpected reply, Motecusuma sent some of his generals to capture the defiant prince. But as the latter was a powerful cazique, he had many loyal supporters who warned him of Motecusuma’s intentions; thus, he had enough time to retreat further into the interior, well beyond the monarch’s reach.

The other chiefs, however, assembled as Motecusuma commanded; but neither Cortes nor any of us were present at the meeting, except for the page Orteguilla, from whom we learned the following: Motecusuma opened the assembly by reminding the caziques of an ancient tradition handed down by their ancestors, and recorded in their histories, that a people would someday come from the east, destined to rule the country and bring an end to the Mexican empire. According to Motecusuma, this tradition referred to us, as confirmed by declarations from his gods. The priests of Huitzilopochtli had demanded an oracle of the god about this, offering sacrifices accordingly; but the god, contrary to custom, had refused to give an oracle, and only referred them to his previous statement; thus, they had not dared to ask further questions. Therefore, Motecusuma concluded, Huitzilopochtli meant that they should accept allegiance to the king of Spain, to whom the teules (our people) belonged. For now, there was nothing to do but act accordingly, while waiting to see if the gods would give a different answer later; then, they could respond as circumstances required. He urged them, for their own good, to give some sign of their allegiance to the Spanish monarch. Malinche had been insistent on this matter, and it wouldn’t be wise to refuse him. During the eight or ten years he had ruled over them, they had obeyed him faithfully; for this, he had enriched them, expanded their lands, and promoted them to high offices. They should consider his current confinement as the will of Huitzilopochtli, who had specifically advised him to do so, as he had often told them before.

After Motecusuma’s speech, everyone present agreed to go along with his wishes, but broke down into tears and sighed deeply—Motecusuma himself was the most emotionally affected. Immediately, he sent one of his chief officers to Cortes with the news that the following day they would assemble again to take the oath of allegiance to the emperor.

The next day, this ceremony was held in the presence of Cortes, our officers, and most of the soldiers. All the Mexicans seemed deeply saddened, and even Motecusuma could not hold back his tears. Seeing this, many of us, moved by our deep affection for the monarch, were just as affected by his grief, and many of us wept as much as he did. We therefore tried, if possible, to show him even greater kindness, and Cortes, together with Father Olmedo, who was a man of great understanding, hardly left his side. While we did everything to comfort him, we also continually urged him to give up his false gods.

## CHAPTER CII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes sends out some of our men to explore the gold mines and those rivers that carry gold; also the harbors from Panuco to Tabasco, but especially the river Guacasualco.*

One day, as usual, while Cortes was sitting with Motecusuma, the conversation turned to mining. He asked the monarch where the gold mines and the rivers with gold dust were, and how they collected it, saying he planned to send out two of his men, who were skilled miners, to explore those places.

Motecusuma replied that gold was found in three main areas of the country, but most abundantly in the province of Zacatula, a journey of ten to twelve days south of Mexico. There, the earth containing the gold was washed in wooden vessels, allowing the gold dust to settle at the bottom. Currently, gold was also brought from the northern province of Tustepec, near where we had first landed. There, it was collected from riverbeds. Productive gold mines were also worked by the Chinantecs and Tzapotecs in that province, two peoples not under his rule. If Cortes wished to send some of his men, Motecusuma himself would assign several important officers to accompany them.

Cortes gratefully accepted this offer and sent our pilot Gonzalo de Umbria, with two miners, to Zacatula. This Umbria was the same man whom Cortes had sentenced to have his feet cut off while we were staying at San Juan de Ulua. He and his partners were to return within forty days. For the northern mines, Cortes sent an officer named Pizarro, a young man of twenty-five whom he treated as family.

At that time Peru was still unknown, and the name of Pizarro meant nothing yet. This young Pizarro was accompanied by four miners and an equal number of leading Mexicans. He too had forty days to return to Mexico, as the journey covered 320 miles.

On this occasion, Motecusuma also gave Cortes a nequen cloth, on which all the rivers and inlets along the coast from Panuco to Tabasco—a distance of 560 miles—were accurately drawn and described. This map drew our attention to the river Guacasualco. Although we already knew the harbors and inlets shown, from our previous voyage with Grijalva, we knew nothing of that river, which the Mexicans described as very broad and deep. Cortes decided to send someone to explore its mouth and surroundings; Diego de Ordas, a capable and brave man, volunteered if two of our men and some Mexicans could go with him.

Cortes was initially reluctant to let him go, as Ordas was very useful to him, but finally agreed to keep him content. Motecusuma also expressed concern about the journey, since Guacasualco was not under his control and was inhabited by warlike people. He warned Ordas to be especially careful, and hoped not to be held to blame if anything happened to him. If Ordas thought it best, he would send troops stationed at the border to escort him into Guacasualco. Cortes and Ordas both thanked Motecusuma, and Ordas set out, accompanied by two Spaniards and several distinguished Mexicans.

Here again, the historian Gomara makes another error like his previous one about Pedro de Ircio, whom he said was sent to Panuco; for here he claims Juan Velasquez was sent with 100 men to settle in Guacasualco. In the next chapter, I will describe what these officers experienced and the gold samples they brought back.

## CHAPTER CIII. {.chapter}
*How the officers whom Cortes had sent to the gold mines and the river Guacasualco returned to Mexico.*

The first to return to Mexico was Gonzalo de Umbria with his companions. He brought about 300 pesos worth of gold dust collected at Zacatula. He reported that the caziques of the province employed many locals to wash gold from the rivers using small troughs. There were two rivers where gold dust was collected, and with skilled miners and mining practices like those in St. Domingo and Cuba, these could be very profitable.

Four leading chiefs of the province accompanied Umbria to Mexico, bringing a gift of gold ornaments worth about 200 pesos for our emperor. Cortes was as pleased with this small amount of gold as if it had been 3,000 pesos, knowing for certain there were rich mines in those regions. He treated the caziques who brought the gift very well, gave them glass beads, and promised all sorts of good things; so they returned home very satisfied.

Umbria also spoke of many other large towns near Mexico, and of a border province called Matlaltzinco. It was clear that Umbria and his companions hadn’t forgotten themselves, for they lined their own pockets with gold. Cortes expected this, and chose Umbria for the journey purposely to win back his goodwill after the severe punishment he had once given him.

Nor did Diego de Ordas, who went to the river Guacasualco, return empty-handed. He too visited many large towns, which he named, and was treated with great respect at each. At every town, he heard many complaints from people about the abuses and cruelty of the Mexican troops stationed on the frontier. Ordas and the distinguished Mexicans with him sharply scolded these commanders and threatened to report everything to Motecusuma, who would punish them just as severely as he had Quauhpopoca for similar wrongs. These warnings had their effect, and afterward Ordas was accompanied only by one Mexican. Tochel, cazique of Guacasualco, having heard of Ordas’s journey, sent several important men to meet him. Everywhere he received generous welcomes, as the people knew about us from Grijalva’s expedition.

To help him explore the river, Tochel not only lent him large canoes, but went with Ordas himself, along with his officials, to the Guacasualco. At the river mouth, Ordas found three fathoms of depth, but farther upstream it was deeper still, deep enough for large ships, and by one Indian village there was room for a Spanish carack. In this village, Ordas was given some gold items and a beautiful Indian woman. They also declared themselves vassals of our emperor and complained bitterly of Motecusuma and the cruelty of his soldiers. Recently, they had fought these troops and killed many; thus, the village where it happened was named *Cuitlonemiqui*, which in their language meant “the place where the Mexican beasts fell.” Ordas thanked them for their hospitality, gave them glass beads, and remarked that the country was well suited for cattle and the harbor was excellent for trade with Cuba, St. Domingo, and Jamaica—though too far from Mexico, and unfortunately full of shallows, meaning it was rarely used for trade or moving goods from Mexico.

As for Pizarro, he returned with only one of the Spaniards who had gone to Tustepec with him, but was more successful in finding gold, bringing back dust valued at 1,000 pesos. He said he had personally washed for gold dust in the provinces of Tustepec and Malinaltepec and nearby regions, employing many Indians, whom he paid with two-thirds of the gold they found. He also visited other provinces higher in the mountains, in the land of the Chinantecs. There, he was met by a party of Indians, armed with bows, arrows, shields, and lances longer than ours. They said no Mexican should ever set foot in their territory, on pain of death, but the teules (Spaniards) were welcome. So the Mexicans stayed behind, and Pizarro and the Spaniards continued alone. The Chinantec caziques then ordered many locals to help wash gold from the river sand. The gold dust found there was curly-shaped, and they said mines that produced this shape of gold were more abundant and the metal more solid. Pizarro was also accompanied by two caziques who came, on behalf of their people, to make peace with us and declare themselves vassals of our emperor. They too brought a gift of gold and complained bitterly about the Mexicans, who were so hated for their greed that the Chinantecs could not stand to see or even hear mention of them.

Cortes welcomed Pizarro and the caziques as kindly as possible, thanking the chiefs for their gift and reassuring them of our friendship and willingness to assist them whenever needed, and then let them go. So they could travel safely through Mexican territory, Cortes sent two notable Mexicans with them to the border, for which they were very grateful. Cortes then asked Pizarro what had happened to the other Spaniards who had accompanied him. Pizarro replied that he had told them to remain in the area, as the land was rich in gold, the people peaceful, and to start a small settlement there, planting large fields with cacao, maize, and cotton, raising livestock, and exploring the gold mines. Cortes strongly disapproved of his exceeding his orders and privately scolded him, saying it was low-minded to immediately pursue profit from cacao plantations and livestock. Cortes then sent a soldier named Alonso Luis to the Spaniards left behind, with orders to return to Mexico immediately.

## CHAPTER CIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes requested the powerful Motecusuma to order all the caziques of the empire to bring in the tribute of gold due to our emperor.*

As Diego de Ordas and the other officers whom Cortes had sent out to investigate the gold mines had all returned with samples of the metal and brought very encouraging reports about the country’s wealth, our general, after conferring at length with his officers and several soldiers, decided that Motecusuma should now be asked to send word to all his caziques and every township in his empire, requiring them to bring in tribute for our emperor. Motecusuma, as the wealthiest of his vassals, was expected to contribute from his private treasures as well.

In response to this request, Motecusuma agreed to send the necessary orders throughout every township; but he informed us that many would be unable to meet these demands, as they could only contribute some small golden trinkets inherited from their forebears.

Motecusuma then sent several of his principal officers to the districts with gold mines, instructing the inhabitants of those places to send him the usual weight and number of gold bars they were accustomed to pay as tribute, and sent them two bars as a sample. He also sent similar instructions to a province ruled by his relative, who behaved very defiantly. However, this prince sent back word that he would neither send any gold nor obey Motecusuma’s commands, claiming he had as much right to the Mexican throne as the one who dared demand tribute from him.

The monarch was so enraged by this reply that he immediately sent out some of his most active officers, bearing his seal, to seize the rebel and bring him to Mexico. These officers were more successful than the previous ones and brought the rebellious prince back as a prisoner. When he was brought before Motecusuma, he showed no fear and behaved so disrespectfully that his conduct could only be explained by madness—according to reports, he experienced episodes of insanity. Cortes, after hearing that Motecusuma had ordered the man’s execution, requested that the prince be delivered to him instead, so that he could personally take him into custody. Motecusuma agreed, and when the prince was brought before our general, Cortes spoke kindly to him, advising him not to act madly with his monarch and assuring him he would eventually secure his freedom. But Motecusuma insisted he be placed in heavy chains, as had been done with other princes.

After twenty days, all the officers Motecusuma had sent into the provinces to collect tribute returned to Mexico. He then summoned Cortes, his officers, and several of us who were accustomed to stand guard in his chamber and spoke to us as follows: “Malinche, and you other officers and soldiers, I feel greatly indebted to your emperor for considering it worth his while to send men from such distant lands to inquire after me. But what weighs more heavily on my mind is the tradition of our ancestors, which the oracles of our gods have fully confirmed—that the rule of these lands was destined to pass to him. Receive this gold for him; I have no more at present, since the notice to gather it was too short. As for myself, I have given my father’s entire treasure as my share of the tribute, which is hidden in your quarters. I know you have seen it and closed the opening as before. When you send this treasure to your emperor, tell him in your letter: this is sent to you by your loyal vassal Motecusuma. Along with this, I will send a few chalchihuis stones of such great value that I would give them to no one else except a powerful emperor like yours—each stone is worth two loads of gold. I also plan to send him three crossbows, with the small balls and the bag that holds them, all richly decorated with jewels, which he will surely appreciate. I wish I could give him everything I own; but now, I have little left, since I have given you most of my gold and jewels over time.”

Cortes and all of us were amazed by the monarch’s generosity and goodness, so we respectfully removed our caps and thanked him. Cortes assured him that he would send our emperor an accurate account of all these splendid gifts. Motecusuma wasted no time in keeping his promise; that same hour, his stewards arrived and handed over all the treasures kept in the secret chamber. The heap was so immense that it took us three days to gather everything from the room’s corners and examine it; we even had to summon Motecusuma’s goldsmiths from Escapuzalco to help us. To give the reader an idea of this treasure: when all the items were separated into three heaps and weighed, the gold alone—excluding the silver and other precious objects—was worth over 600,000 pesos; this does not include the gold plates, bars, and dust contributed by other provinces. We ordered the Escapuzalco goldsmiths to smelt all this gold into bars measuring three inches square.

Additionally, Motecusuma brought another gift consisting of gold and jewels of tremendous value. There were also chalchihuis stones of exceptional beauty and size, which were extremely prized among the country’s caziques. Furthermore, there were three crossbows with cases adorned with jewels and pearls, and several pictures made of feathers and small pearls, all very valuable; it would be difficult to describe each splendid item in detail.

At this, Cortes ordered an iron stamp made about the size of a Spanish real, bearing the arms of Spain, for the royal treasurers to mark all the gold—except for that set in jewels, as we were reluctant to break it apart. Since we had neither scales nor weights, we made weights in iron, from twenty-five pounds down to half a pound and four ounces, as we did not care to weigh precisely to half an ounce. When the gold was weighed—excluding the silver and jewels—it came to 600,000 pesos, though many among us believed it was worth much more.

Now, there only remained to deduct the emperor’s fifth from the total, and divide the remainder among the officers and soldiers, including those stationed at Vera Cruz. Cortes, however, thought the division should be postponed until our stock of gold increased further, but most officers and soldiers wanted it done immediately, for they claimed more than a third had already disappeared since the treasures were first gathered into three heaps. Many suspected that Cortes and his chief officers had secretly taken away much of it. The weighing of the gold thus began at once so the division could take place the next day. I will explain how this was done, and how most of it ended up in the hands of Cortes and others, in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER CV. {.chapter}
*How all the gold presented by Motecusuma, and collected from the different townships, was divided; and what happened to one of our soldiers on the occasion.*

First, one fifth of the treasure was set aside for the crown, and a second for Cortes, as had been promised when we chose him captain-general and chief justice. After this was deducted, Cortes requested repayment for the expenses of outfitting the force in Cuba, then deducted the sum owed to Velasquez for the destroyed ships, and finally the travel costs for our agents sent to Spain. Next, the shares due the garrison at Vera Cruz—seventy men—were deducted, as well as compensation for the two horses killed, one in the fight with the Tlascallans, the other at Almeria.

Only after all these deductions were the rest of the men allowed to collect their shares. Double shares were also assigned to the two priests, the officers, and the cavalry, and likewise to the musketeers and crossbowmen. After these and other deductions, the majority—those entitled to only a single share—received such a trifling amount that many would not even accept their portions, which Cortes then kept for himself. At that time, we thought it best to remain silent about this unfair division; for what good would it have done to demand justice? Besides, Cortes had secretly bribed some with gifts and generous promises, and gave many of the loudest complainers one hundred pesos to silence them.

The portion for the Vera Cruz garrison was sent to Tlascalla for safekeeping. Most of our officers employed Motecusuma’s goldsmiths from Escapuzalco to craft heavy gold chains; Cortes, among other things, ordered a grand dinner service. Several of our soldiers who knew how to look out for themselves ordered other items, and before long, many of the stamped bars and trinkets were in circulation. Gambling quickly broke out after a man named Pedro Valenciano made playing cards from parchment, as beautiful and finely painted as those from Spain.

Let me show how this unfair division affected our men. Among our troops was a man named Cardenas, a sailor by trade, who had left behind in Spain a wife and children in great distress, and like many of us, remained poor.

When this man saw the huge pile of gold bars, plates, and dust, and discovered his share was a mere hundred pesos, he became very despondent. A friend noticed this and asked what troubled him, and why he sighed so deeply. He replied, “How can I help it, when I see all this gold we worked so hard to collect end up in Cortes’ hands, with his fifths, payments for horses, ships, and other such clever tricks, while my wife and children suffer at home? I could have sent them some help when our agents sailed to Spain, since there was enough gold then to share with all.” His friend asked, “What gold do you mean?” Cardenas answered, “The gold our agents took to Spain. If Cortes had let me have my share, my family would not be in want. Instead, he used every trick to persuade us to send all the treasure as a present to the emperor, except for over 6,000 pesos for Martin Cortes, his father—not to mention the gold he secretly kept. We, who have fought bravely at Tabasco, Tlascalla, Zinpantzinco, and Cholulla; we, who now live under constant threat of death should the city’s people decide to turn against us—all of us remain poor, and our protests get us nowhere! Cortes, meanwhile, acts as if he were emperor himself, and claims a fifth of what we’ve earned!”

The poor man continued complaining, believing we should not have let Cortes take a fifth for himself and that we had no need for any other authority but our own emperor.

“And are you really,” replied his friend, “going to make yourself miserable over this? None of it will help you. We fare no better with provisions, for Cortes and his officers eat most themselves; but complaints get us nothing, so set these gloomy thoughts aside and pray that we are not destroyed here in this city.”

Cortes soon learned of these and similar grievances, and as discontent over the unfair division became widespread, he summoned us all before him and gave a speech full of kind assurances. He said he owed everything to us and had not asked for a fifth himself, but only what was promised him as captain-general. He added he was ready to help those in need. The gold we had gathered so far, he told us, was insignificant compared to what was to come. We should remember the many great towns across the land, and the rich mines we now controlled—these, he promised, would enrich every man in the army. He spoke at length and with real feeling, but when this had little effect, he tried other means. Many were secretly bribed with gold or promises, and from that point the food supplied by Motecusuma was fairly distributed, so everyone received an equal share. Cortes also took Cardenas aside, gave him 300 pesos, and promised to send him home to his family on the first ship bound for Spain. I will mention Cardenas again, as he later caused Cortes serious trouble in Spain during the complaints filed with the emperor against him.

## CHAPTER CVI. {.chapter}
*About the argument between Velasquez de Leon and our treasurer Gonzalo Mexia about missing gold from the treasure, and how Cortes resolved the dispute.*

Since greed for gold is common to everyone, and the more a man has, the more he wants, it is no surprise that many gold pieces were missing from the heaps I mentioned above. One of our officers, Leon, had ordered Motecusuma’s goldsmiths to make him heavy chains and other items, and the royal treasurer, Gonzalo Mexia, became suspicious and privately pointed out that the emperor’s fifth had not been deducted from several bars sent to be smelted. Leon, who was well regarded by Cortes, replied that he had no intention of returning any gold. He claimed what he possessed had not come from himself but had been given to him by Cortes before it was ever smelted.

The treasurer, however, would not let it go, arguing that besides the gold Cortes had secretly taken, depriving his fellow soldiers, there was much more from which the royal fifth had not been subtracted—and that, as royal treasurer, he could not permit the emperor’s interests to be overlooked.

This led to a heated argument between the two, and they drew their swords—surely they would have killed one another if we had not separated them immediately. Both men were proud and excellent swordsmen, and they wounded each other.

When Cortes heard of the incident, he ordered both men arrested and placed in heavy chains. However, since he was well known to favor Leon, many believed this was just a ruse to give the impression that he valued justice over friendship; and there was talk that during Leon’s imprisonment, Cortes secretly visited him, assuring him the confinement would be short, just a couple of days, and then both he and Mexia would be freed. Even so, this did not ease our suspicions, and now Mexia was accused in turn of neglecting his duty as royal treasurer and was pressured by the soldiers to ask Cortes about the missing gold.

I will cut the story short here and return to Leon, who was imprisoned in a room not far from Motecusuma’s apartments. Leon was a tall, powerful man, and as he paced his room, the chains dragged on the floor, making a noise the monarch could hear. Motecusuma asked Orteguilla who the prisoner was. His page told him it was Leon, who had previously been captain of the guard (an office now held by Oli), and explained that his arrest was due to missing gold.

That day, as Cortes paid his usual visit to the monarch, Motecusuma asked why such a distinguished officer as Leon was in chains. Cortes replied, half-joking, that Leon was not in his right mind: because he had not received enough gold, he had threatened to go about the towns, demanding gold from the caziques, and might harm someone; so, to prevent this, he had imprisoned him. Motecusuma, on hearing this, asked Cortes to release Leon, promising to pacify him with a gift of gold from his own private store.

Cortes pretended reluctance but finally agreed, saying he would do so only out of affection for Motecusuma. Leon was released, and Cortes arranged a reconciliation between him and Mexia. He then sent Leon, along with some of Motecusuma’s chief officers, to raise gold in Cholulla, from which he returned six days later with even more gold than before. However, Mexia never forgot this incident, and there remained a coldness between him and our general.

I have told this story, though it may seem aside from the main narrative, to show the reader the artful tactics Cortes often used, and the appearance he gave of justice meant to keep us in awe of him.

## CHAPTER CVII. {.chapter}
*How Motecuhzoma offers one of his daughters in marriage to Cortés, who accepts her, and pays her the respects due to her high station.*

I have often mentioned how we did our utmost to entertain Motecuhzoma during his confinement, visiting him daily in his apartments. On one of these occasions, the monarch said to our general, “Malinche! To show you how much affection I have for you, I intend to give you one of my prettiest daughters in marriage.”

Cortés removed his cap and thanked him for the honor he intended to bestow, but stated that he was already married and that the religion and laws of our country forbade a man to have more than one wife. Still, he said, he would accept her and treat her with the respect due her high rank, on the condition that she convert to Christianity, as had the daughters of several of Motecuhzoma’s nobles.

Motecuhzoma easily agreed to this—as he did to nearly everything else we desired, except the abolition of human sacrifice, which nothing could make him abandon; day after day those atrocities continued. Cortés pleaded with him in every possible way, but with so little effect that at last he deemed it necessary to take decisive action. The great challenge was to find an approach that would not provoke the people or the priests to rise up in arms. After a dedicated meeting, we resolved to remove the idols from the top of Huitzilopochtli’s temple; and if the Mexicans took up arms to defend them, we would settle for permission to build an altar on one side of the platform and place there an image of the Holy Virgin and the cross.

Having resolved on this, Cortés, accompanied by seven officers and soldiers, visited Motecuhzoma and addressed him: “Great monarch, I have so often begged you to abolish these false idols by whom you are so terribly deceived, and to stop sacrificing humans to them. Yet these crimes are committed daily. I have therefore come with these officers to ask your permission to remove these idols from the temple and place, instead, the Holy Virgin and the cross. All my men are determined to remove your idols, even if you oppose it; and you may well imagine that one or another of your priests could become a victim.”

When Motecuhzoma heard this and saw our officers’ determination, he said to Cortés, “Alas, Malinche! Why do you want to bring ruin upon this city? Our gods are already angry with us, and who knows what revenge they may take on you? However, I will gather all the priests to hear their opinions.”

Cortés motioned for the other officers to leave, and requested a private audience with Motecuhzoma and Father Olmedo. Cortés then told the monarch that the only way to save the city from open rebellion and the idols from destruction was to allow us to build an altar, with the cross and Virgin Mary, atop the great temple. He pledged to silence his men’s demands, and said the Mexicans would soon see how much their souls would benefit from this, and how abundant their harvests could become.

Motecuhzoma again responded, with a heavy sigh and a troubled face, that he would discuss the matter with his priests. After lengthy debate between them and himself, we were granted permission to erect an altar, with the cross and holy Virgin, atop the temple, opposite the dreadful idol Huitzilopochtli. We offered heartfelt thanks to God, and Father Olmedo, assisted by the priest Juan Diaz and many of our soldiers, celebrated high mass.

Cortés appointed an old soldier to watch over the altar, and also asked Motecuhzoma to instruct his priests not to interfere. The soldier’s duty was to keep the area clean, burn incense before the altar, keep the candles lit day and night, and decorate it regularly with fresh branches and flowers.

I must, however, pause here to recount something we little expected.

## CHAPTER CVIII. {.chapter}
*How the powerful Motecuhzoma tells Cortés that for his safety he should leave Mexico with all his men, as all the chiefs and priests are about to rise up to destroy us, following the advice of their gods: And how Cortés responded to this news.*

From the moment we erected the altar and cross on the great temple and celebrated high mass there, trouble began to gather around us.

About this time, Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca were said to have spoken to the priests, telling them they wished to leave the country, as the Spaniards (teules) had shown them great contempt and that it was impossible to remain where the image and cross stood. If the people wanted the gods to remain in Mexico, they had to kill us all. These were said to be their last words, to be shared with Motecuhzoma and his nobles; and the priests were also to remind him how we had melted down all the gold with which the gods had once been honored; how we commanded as if we were lords of the land, and how we kept five powerful princes chained.

All this was faithfully reported to Motecuhzoma, who then sent word to Cortés that he wished to see him, having urgent matters to discuss.

The page Orteguilla, sent to summon Cortés, reported that Motecuhzoma seemed completely changed and dispirited; that the day before, several priests and officers had held secret meetings with him, speaking words he did not understand.

Cortés, accompanied by Olid, four other officers, and our two interpreters, went at once to the monarch. After the usual courtesies, Motecuhzoma spoke: “Alas, Malinche and officers, how distressed I am by what our gods have commanded our priests, myself, and my leading men!

“They insist we must begin war with you and either kill you or drive you from the land. My advice is that you leave on your own before open conflict breaks out.

“I had to tell you this, Malinche, so you might decide what to do. As for me, I have no doubt your lives are all at risk here.”

The reader can imagine Cortés and his officers did not take this lightly, and were greatly surprised at this revelation. No one could have expected this turn of events; but Motecuhzoma’s unmistakable seriousness left us certain we were in grave danger. Cortés, however, concealed his fears from the king and thanked him for the warning, saying he regretted that we had no ships left to leave the country; and that, if we were to depart, the monarch would have to come along to be presented to our emperor. He then asked that Motecuhzoma distract his priests and officers while we built three ships at the coast. And, if they started war against us, they would surely be killed. To prove he meant what he said, Cortés asked Motecuhzoma to send two of his top officers with our carpenters to the coast to prepare timber for the ships.

Motecuhzoma became even more dejected when he heard that he must accompany us, and that he had to order his carpenters to begin at once, not just talk. Our general also told him to summon the priests and officers to tell them there was no need for open rebellion; that for now they could appease the gods with offerings, but that we forbade human sacrifice.

After this important discussion, Cortés left the monarch, and from then on we lived in constant fear of renewed hostilities. Cortés kept his word and summoned Martín López and Andrés Núñez, instructing them on the size of the three ships he wanted built, and sent them to Veracruz along with Mexican carpenters, where iron, rigging, pitch, and tow would be supplied. These orders were quickly followed. The needed timber was cut at the coast of Veracruz, and the ships were built with great diligence. Whether Cortés gave López any secret instructions I do not know; but I must mention, as Gomara does in his history, that some say all this shipbuilding was simply a ruse to distract Motecuhzoma. Let those who know more publish the truth. Many of our men are living who could give a full and accurate account. All I know is that López told me in confidence the building truly began, and that the three ships were actually lying on the stocks.

For now, we will leave them quietly there and inform the reader that we were exceedingly anxious about our situation in this great city and were constantly expecting an attack either against us or our Tlaxcalan allies, as Doña Marina had warned our general. The page Orteguilla cried all day, and we kept close watch on the monarch. I must state for the last time, that whether it was night or day, none of us ever removed our gorgets or armor, and our weapons were never out of reach. Our beds were just a bundle of straw and a mat; our horses stood saddled; and every man was ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

At night, we posted so many sentinels that each of us, in turn, had at least one watch every night. I don't say this to praise myself; but I became so accustomed to being armed constantly—living in armor—that even after the conquest of New Spain, I found it hard for a long time to sleep undressed or to use a bed, and slept better soldier-style than on soft down. Even now, old as I am, I never bring a bed with me when I visit my estates; or, if I do, it is only so the gentlemen with me do not think I lack a good bed. Thanks to those long nights on duty, I became used to sleeping only briefly and rising regularly to look at the stars, walking a little in the open air. I never wear a nightcap or wrap a kerchief around my head; and thank God, I am so used to it that I never suffer any discomfort. I mention all this to show the reader how we, the true Conquistadores, always had to stay on guard and the hardships we endured.

## CHAPTER CIX. {.chapter}
*How the governor of Cuba, Velázquez, hastily equips an armament against us, giving the command to Pánfilo de Narváez, accompanied by the licentiate Lucas Vázquez de Ayllón, auditor of the royal court of audience at Santo Domingo.*

To explain what follows, I must refer to earlier events.

I have already noted, in its place, that Diego Velázquez received word that we had sent agents to our emperor with the gold and gifts we had seized; and also that they had been poorly treated by the bishop of Burgos, who not only favored Velázquez in various ways but even ordered him to equip an armada against us, promising to answer to the emperor for it himself.

The governor of Cuba thus put forth every effort and assembled a fleet of nineteen ships, carrying 1,400 soldiers, over forty cannon with powder, balls, and flints, and two artillerymen, all under Captain Rodrigo Martín. There were also eighty horsemen, ninety crossbowmen, and seventy musketeers. As fat and heavy as he was, Velázquez, in his passion, visited every township in Cuba to speed up the preparations, inviting every inhabitant who had Indians, relatives, or friends to manage their estates to join Pánfilo de Narváez and share the glory of capturing Cortés and all of us or at least to blow out our brains. In his zeal, he went as far as the promontory of Guaniguanico, even though it is over 240 miles from Havana.

Before this armament left port, the royal court of audience at Santo Domingo and the Hieronymite friars, who were viceroys there, decided to look into it, after their agent in Cuba, the licentiate Suazo, told them how extensive the force was.

Given how well our great services to God and His Majesty were known in Santo Domingo, and the fact that we had sent rich gifts to our emperor, it was decided there that Velázquez had no right to send an armament simply to seek revenge, but that he should pursue us through the courts. These objective men foresaw how such an expedition could obstruct the conquest of New Spain. So they sent the licentiate Lucas Vázquez de Ayllón, auditor of the royal court at Santo Domingo, to Cuba with firm orders to Velázquez not to let the fleet sail.

The auditor duly carried out these orders and formally protested against the fleet leaving port, but Diego Velázquez, having invested all his fortune in the expedition and relying on the bishop of Burgos’s support, ignored the protest. Vázquez de Ayllón thereupon decided to go himself, embarking on one of the ships, to see if he could at least prevent fighting between Narváez and Cortés. Many believed he secretly meant to side with us or, if we could not defeat Narváez, to claim the land for the emperor himself. In any case, he sailed with Narváez and arrived at San Juan de Ulúa, of which we shall hear more soon.

## CHAPTER CX. {.chapter}
*How Narvaez arrives with his entire fleet in the harbor of San Juan de Ulua, and what happened because of this.*

When Narvaez arrived with his fleet off the mountains of San Martin, a north wind sprang up, which is always dangerous on these coasts. One of the vessels, commanded by a cavalier named Christobal de Morante, of Medina del Campo, was wrecked during the night off the coast, and most of the men perished. The other vessels, however, arrived safely in the harbor of San Juan de Ulua.

This armament, which may be considered extensive, given that it was outfitted in Cuba, was first spotted by some soldiers whom Cortes had sent out to search for gold mines. Three of these—Cervantes, Escalona, and Alonso Carretero—did not hesitate a moment to go aboard the commander's ship, and are said to have praised the Almighty as soon as they set foot on board for rescuing them from Cortes and the great city of Mexico, where death faced them daily.

Narvaez ordered food and drink to be served to them, and as their glasses were generously filled, they said to each other in his presence: “This is truly a different life, enjoying a good glass of wine, compared to the slavery under Cortes, who gives a person no rest day or night; where one scarcely dares speak, and death is always looming.”

Cervantes, who was somewhat of a court jester, even addressed Narvaez directly, exclaiming: “Oh Narvaez! Narvaez, how fortunate you are to arrive just as the traitor Cortes has collected over 700,000 pesos, and all his men are so upset with him for cheating them out of most of the gold that many even refuse to accept their share.”

Such was the talk of these petty and unprincipled fellows, and they told Narvaez more than he probably cared to know. They also informed him that, thirty-two miles further on, he would reach a town we had built, called Vera Cruz, which had a garrison of sixty men, all invalids, under an officer named Sandoval, and that if he simply appeared there with a few men, they would surrender the town at once.

Motecusuma was immediately informed of the arrival of the fleet, and without saying a word to Cortes, sent several of his chief officers to Narvaez with a gift of gold and other items; he also ordered the local people to supply Narvaez with provisions.

In his message to Motecusuma, Narvaez slandered Cortes and all of us, saying we were nothing but a group of thieves and vagabonds who had fled Spain without the knowledge of our emperor. But, as his Imperial Majesty had been informed that we were committing all kinds of crimes in the country, imprisoning the monarch even, he (Narvaez) had been ordered to come with his fleet and troops to put an end to these outrages and free the monarch. He also had orders to strike down Cortes and all his men, or take them alive and send them as prisoners to Spain, where death awaited them. This straightforward message was to be translated into the Mexican language by the three soldiers who understood it, for Motecusuma’s messengers; Narvaez also sent a gift of Spanish goods along with this.

Motecusuma was quite pleased with this message, especially after learning about the number of Narvaez’s ships, his artillery, and his 1,300 soldiers. He thought it would be easy for Narvaez to defeat us, and since his messengers had seen for themselves the three traitors who'd joined Narvaez, Motecusuma was all the more ready to believe the worst about Cortes. He also received a complete description of the armament from his artists, who illustrated everything they saw on cotton cloth. So, Motecusuma sent a second message, with even more valuable gifts in gold and cotton cloth to Narvaez, and commanded the coastal inhabitants to provide plenty of supplies.

Motecusuma had learned of the fleet's arrival three days before Cortes did. When Cortes, as was his habit, visited the monarch, he found him in unusually good spirits and asked what had caused this. Motecusuma replied that he felt healthier than he had in some time.

Cortes, surprised at this change, called on Motecusuma a second time that day, which made the monarch suspect that Cortes might know about the arrival of the fleet. To dispel suspicion, Motecusuma thought it best to tell Cortes himself: “Malinche, I have just received word that a fleet of eighteen ships, with many soldiers and horses, has arrived at the harbor where you landed. I’ve received pictures of the entire fleet. Surely, you already knew this, and I thought by your second visit today you were coming to tell me yourself, so there would be no need for you to build new ships. Though I might have felt slighted you kept this secret from me, I am nevertheless glad your brothers have arrived, so you can now return to Spain, and all difficulties are ended.”

When Cortes heard this and saw the paintings the Mexicans had made of all the ships, he exclaimed in delight, “Thank God, whose help always arrives in time!” In fact, all of us were greatly pleased at the news; we galloped around on horseback, and fired salutes in celebration.

However, Cortes soon regarded this development more seriously, as he now clearly saw the fleet had been sent against us by Velasquez. He told us all his suspicions, and, through generous gifts and promises, secured our commitment not to work against his interests—which we willingly did, since the new commander was a stranger to us. Our joy was now even greater, not only because of the gold Cortes distributed from his own funds, but because we believed this fleet had been sent by Providence to help us in our time of need.

## CHAPTER CXI. {.chapter}
*How Pamfilo Narvaez sends five envoys to Sandoval, the commandant of Vera Cruz, summoning him to surrender the town.*

After Narvaez had gotten all the information about Vera Cruz from the three deserters, he decided to send there a priest named Guevara, who was an excellent speaker, and a certain Amaya, a man of high standing and a relative of Velasquez; as well as a secretary named Vergara and three witnesses, whose names I’ve forgotten. These gentlemen were to announce Narvaez's arrival and demand the surrender of the town, and, to ensure everything was in order, were provided with a copy of Narvaez's appointment.

Sandoval had already been informed by the locals of Narvaez's arrival. But as he was always alert and very perceptive, he immediately guessed that the fleet came from Velasquez, whose aim was to seize Vera Cruz; so he took every precaution. First, he sent all the invalid soldiers to the Indian town of Papalote, keeping only those who were fit for duty. Then he posted lookouts along the road to Sempoalla, which Narvaez would have to take if he marched on Vera Cruz. Sandoval also made his men promise not to surrender the town to Velasquez or anyone else, and, as a reminder, had a gallows built on a high point outside the town.

When the outposts told Sandoval that six Spaniards were approaching, he withdrew to his house to wait for them; he was determined not to greet these visitors personally and had told his men not to leave their quarters or speak a word with the strangers.

Thus, when the priest Guevara and his companions entered the town, they saw only Indians working on the fortifications and not a single Spaniard to talk to. They went straight to the church to pray, and then to Sandoval’s house, which they recognized as the largest in town.

After exchanging greetings, the priest began by explaining to Sandoval how much money Velasquez had spent on the fleet sent under Cortes, who, along with his men, had betrayed the governor; and finished by saying he was there, on behalf of Narvaez—appointed captain-general by Velasquez—to order Sandoval to surrender the town.

Hearing this, and the accusations against Cortes, Sandoval could barely speak with indignation; finally, he replied: “Venerable sir, you are wrong to call men traitors who have served our emperor far better than Velasquez or your commander has. That I do not punish you right now for this insult is solely because you are a priest. Go, in God's name, to Mexico; there you will find Cortes, who is captain-general and chief justice of New Spain. He will answer for himself; here, you'd best say no more.”

At this, the priest, with much bluster, ordered the secretary Vergara to show Narvaez’s commission and read it to Sandoval and those present. Sandoval, however, told the secretary to keep his papers where they were, as he couldn’t tell if the commission was valid or not. When the secretary persisted in reading his papers, Sandoval shouted: “Careful, Vergara! I’ve already told you to keep those in your pocket; take them to Mexico! I warn you, if you read so much as a word, I’ll have you given a hundred lashes on the spot. How do I know whether you’re a royal secretary or not? First show me your own commission; if that’s in order, then I’ll hear your papers. Still, who can tell if your documents are true or false?”

The priest, who was quite arrogant, then exclaimed, “Why bother with ceremony with these traitors? Take out your orders and read them!”

To this Sandoval replied, “You lie, you infamous priest!” and ordered his men to seize the gentlemen and send them off to Mexico at once.

Hardly had he spoken when the envoys were seized by Indian laborers at the fortifications, tied up hand and foot, and slung on the backs of porters. In this fashion, they were sent to Mexico, arriving in four days, as the Indian bearers were constantly relieved on the journey.

The envoys were quite surprised by this rough treatment, and the further they traveled, the more amazed they became at the large towns and villages where they stopped for food. It is said they even doubted whether all this wasn’t enchantment or just a dream.

Sandoval sent Pedro de Solis, Orduña’s son-in-law, as alguacil, to accompany the escort, and also wrote to Cortes describing all that was happening on the coast and naming the captain who commanded the fleet. The letter even reached Cortes before the prisoners did, so he learned of their arrival when they were still some way off.

Cortes immediately sent men with a supply of the best provisions and three horses for the most distinguished of the prisoners, with orders for their immediate release from their restraints. He also wrote them a letter apologizing for their harsh treatment by Sandoval, and promising them an honorable reception. He even went out to meet them and escorted them into town himself.

The priest and his companions—after seeing the vast scale of Mexico, the number of towns in the lake, the wealth of gold we all had, and the noble and open manner of Cortes—were truly astonished. In no more than a couple of days, Cortes had so won them over with kind words, fair promises, jewels, and gold bars that those who had come like roaring lions returned to Narvaez as meek as lambs and offered to support our general in any way they could. In fact, once back at Sempoalla and reporting to Narvaez all they had seen, they could not stop advising his men on the wisdom of making common cause with us.

I will, however, pause here and tell the reader about the letter Cortes wrote to Narvaez.

## CHAPTER CXII. {.chapter}
*How Cortés, after gathering all possible information about the armament, wrote to Narvaez and several of his acquaintances who had come with him, especially to Andreas du Duero, private secretary to Velasquez; and of other events.*

Cortés was a man who never let even the smallest advantage slip by, and no matter how tough the situation, he always found a way out. It must also be acknowledged, though, that he was fortunate to have officers and soldiers he could completely trust, who not only fought bravely but also offered wise advice. Thus, it was unanimously decided in council to send a letter by Indian couriers to Narvaez, written in the most friendly tone, offering our services and asking him not to create discord in the region. Such discord would surely occur if the local people saw that we Spaniards were fighting among ourselves. The letter was to reach Narvaez before Guevara returned. We deliberately wrote in this friendly way because our numbers were so few compared to his, and we wanted first to learn his intentions. We also took additional steps to win over his officers—Guevara told Cortés they were not on good terms with Narvaez, and that a few gold bars and chains would likely win their favor. In the letter, Cortés said how pleased both he and his men were at Narvaez's arrival—himself in particular, as they were old acquaintances. He also urged Narvaez not to attempt to free Motecusuma, as that would spark a citywide rebellion, overwhelming both their forces. Cortés especially stressed this, as Motecusuma's attitude had recently changed, and the people were on the verge of rising, spurred by a message supposedly sent from Narvaez. He was sure Narvaez had not intended such a reckless act unless misled by the three turncoats who had joined him. To close, Cortés offered himself and his resources to Narvaez, saying he awaited his commands.

Cortés also wrote to Andreas de Duero and Vazquez de Aillon, including gold for them and others. Aillon privately received more gold bars and chains. Father Olmedo was also sent to Narvaez’s camp with a good supply of such incentivizing gifts—gold ornaments and precious stones of high value.

The first letter Cortés sent by Indian courier reached Narvaez’s camp before Guevara got back. Narvaez read it aloud to his officers, making jokes at our expense throughout. An officer named Salvatierra even scolded him for reading a traitor’s letter to the men, insisting Narvaez should immediately attack and kill us all. He swore he would cut off Cortés’ ears, roast them, and eat them—among other foolish boasts. He declared the letter wasn’t worth an answer and he didn’t care about us at all.

Meanwhile, Guevara and his companions returned, and gave Narvaez a full account of Cortés, praising him as a fine cavalier and loyal servant to our emperor. They spoke of Motecusuma’s great power, the many towns they'd visited, and that Cortés would gladly submit if treated well. They also said both parties would be better off as friends—New Spain was large enough for both, and Narvaez could pick where he wished to settle with his troops.

These reports, along with some good advice from Amaya and Guevara, infuriated Narvaez. From then on, he refused to see or speak with them. The effect on the troops, however, varied: seeing the gold these messenger brought back, hearing their stories of Cortés' generosity, and tales of lavish games of cards played with gold, many soldiers secretly wished to join us.

Shortly after, Father Olmedo also arrived at Narvaez’s quarters with gold bars and secret instructions. When he gave Narvaez Cortés’ regards and declared his willingness to obey his commands and live in peace, Narvaez became even more enraged. He refused to listen, called us all traitors, and openly insulted Olmedo when he claimed we were the emperor’s loyal servants. Olmedo, undeterred, finished his secret mission by distributing the gold bars and chains among those Cortés meant to win over, and worked in every way possible to draw Narvaez’s principal officers to our side.

## CHAPTER CXIII. {.chapter}
*The dispute between the auditor Vazquez de Aillon and Narvaez, who orders him to be seized and sent back as a prisoner to Spain.*

As I've mentioned before, Auditor Aillon was strongly supportive of Cortés, having traveled to New Spain with instructions from the royal court at St. Domingo and the Hieronymite brothers—who knew of our great service to God and the emperor—to promote our cause in any way possible. After reading Cortés’ letters and receiving the gold, he no longer hid his views. He spoke openly of the injustice of sending this force against men as deserving as ourselves and praised Cortés and his companions so eloquently that many in Narvaez’s camp began to side with us. Narvaez’s own greed made matters worse—he kept all the presents sent by Motecusuma for himself, offering none to his officers or men. He even told his steward, “Be sure not a single thing goes missing; every item is accounted for.” Compared with Cortés' fairness to his men, Narvaez’s officers nearly broke out in open revolt.

Narvaez blamed Aillon for this unrest, ensuring no provisions sent by Motecusuma were given to him or his supporters. This led to even more quarreling in the ranks. With the further provocations from Narvaez’s main supporters—Salvatierra, Juan Bono from Biscay, and Gamarra—he, relying on Fonseca’s backing, abandoned all restraint. He imprisoned the auditor, his secretary, and their attendants, put them aboard a ship, and sent them off to Spain or Cuba.

Narvaez was even harsher to Gonzalo de Oblanco, a scholar and gentleman, who bluntly told him that Cortés had served the emperor loyally, that we all deserved rewards, and that it was outrageous to call us traitors or imprison his majesty’s auditor. Narvaez put Gonazalo in chains; the proud Oblanco took this so hard that he died within four days. Two other soldiers were imprisoned just for speaking well of Cortés—one was Sancho de Barahona, who later settled in Guatemala.

Returning to the auditor, who was to be shipped off as a prisoner: once at sea, he convinced the captain and pilot—either with promises or threats (such as threatening to hang them on arrival in Spain instead of paying them)—to steer for St. Domingo instead.

As soon as the auditor reached St. Domingo, the royal court and viceroys there, upon learning how Narvaez had rashly mistreated Lucas Vazquez, saw it as an insult to themselves and lodged strong complaints with the supreme council of Castile. But at the time, Bishop Fonseca still presided over that council and, during the emperor’s ongoing absence in Flanders, ran affairs as he pleased—so no justice could be expected from Spain. The bishop even shamelessly boasted of his delight, thinking Narvaez had already subdued us. But the bishop would suffer the consequences: our agents in Flanders, upon learning that Velasquez’s expedition had set sail without royal approval—only at Fonseca’s authority—used this fact to great effect in the ensuing legal investigations concerning Cortés and all of us. The auditor's harsh mistreatment damaged Narvaez's standing among his troops. Many of his own friends and relatives, fearing the same treatment meted out to Oblanco, defected to Sandoval. Sandoval, naturally, welcomed them and learned from them everything happening in Narvaez’s camp, including his plans to send men to Vera Cruz to arrest him.

## CHAPTER CXIV. {.chapter}
*Narvaez marches with his entire army to Sempoalla; what he does there; and how we in Mexico decide to march against him.*

After sending away the auditor as a prisoner, Narvaez moved with all his men, supplies, and artillery to Sempoalla and settled in that town, which was then very densely populated. The first thing he did was seize from the fat cazique (as we called him) all his cotton goods, gold objects, and other valuables. He also forcibly took the Indian women who had been given to us by the Sempoalla chieftains and whom we had left behind with their families, as they were the daughters of important people and too delicate for the hardships of military life.

The fat cazique had often told Narvaez not to touch these women or anything Cortés had left—gold or cotton goods—as Cortés would be furious, rush back from Mexico, and destroy both Narvaez and anyone who had allowed his property to be taken.

All the cazique's protests over the looting by Narvaez's troops accomplished nothing. Even when he repeated that Malinche and his men had never taken the smallest thing and had always behaved kindly, Narvaez and Salvatierra, whose behavior was particularly harsh, only laughed at him. Salvatierra would often tease Narvaez and the others, saying, “Just imagine how these chieftains fear that little upstart, Cortés!”

Let this be a lesson to the reader about how wrong it is to malign good people; for I swear this Salvatierra—who was built like an oxcart and should have been able to defend himself—acted like a pitiful coward in the coming battle with us. He was nothing but a braggart, and I think he was from Burgos.

Now, to return to Cortés: Narvaez sent his secretary, Alonso Meta (who later settled in Puebla), along with three other prominent men, to Mexico. They were to command us all, as per Velasquez's written orders, to submit to Narvaez.

Cortés, who received daily updates about events at Narvaez's camp and at Vera Cruz, was told by Sandoval how Narvaez had chained up Vazquez de Aillon and sent him to Spain or Cuba; and that, following these harsh actions, five of his main officers—fearing for themselves as Aillon’s relatives—came over to Sandoval. From them, Sandoval learned everything happening in Narvaez’s camp, and that Narvaez planned soon to march on Mexico to arrest us all. When Cortés received this news, he called together his usual circle of officers—those he consulted on major decisions and who were absolutely loyal. In this council, it was decided we should act swiftly—march out at once against Narvaez. Pedro de Alvarado would stay in Mexico with the men not eager for the campaign, to guard Motecusuma. Those who were Velasquez’s supporters and couldn’t fully be trusted were also left behind.

Luckily, before Narvaez arrived, Cortés had arranged for a supply of maize from Tlascalla, since the local harvest near Mexico had failed due to drought. We needed large stores for our many Naborias and Tlascallan troops. These and other supplies—chickens, fruit, and more—arrived as expected and were placed under Alvarado’s care. We also fortified our quarters, mounted four heavy cannon at the strongest point, and left Alvarado a few falconets and all the gunpowder we could spare, with ten crossbowmen, fourteen musketeers, and seven cavalrymen (the horses, really, were not much use in our courtyards, so this was plenty). In total, the force remaining in Mexico was eighty-three soldiers.

Motecusuma could easily guess what we intended against Narvaez. Though Cortés visited daily, they were both careful to give nothing away—neither mentioned Motecusuma's sending gold and supplies to Narvaez. Only at the very last did Motecusuma finally ask about our planned movements, which will be detailed in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER CXV. {.chapter}
*How the powerful Motecusuma inquires of Cortés whether he truly intends to march out against Narvaez, though the latter’s troops are twice ours in number.*

One day, as usual, the monarch was conversing with Cortés and said: “Malinche! For some time, I have noticed that all your officers and soldiers walk about with great uneasiness: even you no longer visit me as often as you used to, and the page Orteguilla tells me that you are about to march against your brothers who have just arrived, and that you will leave Tonatiuh (as the Mexicans called Alvarado) to guard me. Is there any truth in this? If there is any way I can help you, it would give me great pleasure. I truly fear for your success, for your teules are far fewer than those who just arrived. They have five times as many troops as you do; they also claim, as you do, to be Christians and subjects of your emperor; they honor the same image and cross, celebrate mass as you do, and are spreading rumors that you have fled from Spain, from your emperor, and that he has sent them to bring you back or to put you to death. I hardly know what to think of all this, but I must caution you to be very careful in what you do.”

Cortés replied to the monarch with the most cheerful expression, explaining that he hadn’t brought up any of this until now out of affection for him, to spare him the worry he might feel on our behalf. It was true, he admitted, that the newly arrived teules were also subjects of the emperor and Christians, but it was completely untrue that we had fled from our emperor’s lands. On the contrary, our great monarch had specifically sent us to visit Motecusuma and make the revelations he had heard, in the emperor’s name. As for the numbers of the new arrivals, we were unconcerned, no matter how large they were compared with ours, for our Lord Jesus Christ and his holy mother would give us strength and empower us against those bad men who came with evil intent. Cortés continued, explaining that the emperor ruled over so many countries and kingdoms that the people differed greatly in their courage and spirit. We, he said, were born in the heart of Spain, known as Old Castile, and thus were called Castilians; those now at Sempoalla were from another province called Biscay, whose people spoke a wholly different language, just as the Otomies do in Mexico. He assured him there was no reason to worry about us; we would take care of those men soon enough and return victorious to his capital. He simply asked Motecusuma to remain friends with Tonatiuh, who would stay in Mexico with eighty men, and to maintain order and not allow his generals or priests to disturb the peace. If they did, he would have to punish them on his return. He also asked that those remaining be provided with the necessary supplies.

After this explanation, Motecusuma and Cortés embraced each other twice in succession. The clever Doña Marina then remarked to the monarch that he should show some sign of sorrow at our departure; so he began again, offering to fulfill whatever wish Cortés expressed and promising to send 5,000 of his warriors to accompany us. Cortés, knowing very well they would not be sent, thanked him for his offer and assured him there was no need, since our true support was the Lord our God. But he did ask that the image of the holy Virgin and the cross always be decorated with green branches, that the church be kept clean, and that wax candles burn at all times on the altar, and that his priests not sacrifice any people; and by doing these things he could best prove the sincerity of his friendship.

Cortés then excused himself for ending the conversation, as he had much to organize before his departure; he embraced the monarch once again, and they parted.

Cortés now called Alvarado and all who were to stay in Mexico into his presence. He ordered them to be extremely vigilant, not to give Motecusuma any chance of escaping, and commanded the soldiers to obey Alvarado fully, promising, with God’s help, to reward them all.

Among those who stayed with Alvarado was the priest Juan Diaz, and several others who we suspected of ill will toward Cortés, though I will not name them. Still, we embraced when leaving, then set out with no women or servants, as little baggage as possible, and took the road to Cholula. From there, Cortés sent to our friends Xicotencatl, Maxixcatzin, and the other Tlascalla chiefs, asking for 4,000 of their troops. Their reply was that if we were fighting Indians like themselves, they would gladly send even more troops, but if we intended to fight teules like ourselves, with cannon and horses, we should not blame them if they refused. Their answer was accompanied by as many fowls as twenty men could carry.

Cortés then sent a courier with a letter to Sandoval, instructing him to join us as soon as possible with all his men. We planned to march to within forty-eight miles of Sempoalla, near the provinces of Tampanicita and Mitalaguita, now part of the encomienda of Pedro Moreno Mediana at Puebla; he warned Sandoval to keep away from Narvaez and avoid conflict with any part of his force.

We marched on, taking every military precaution, ready to act at a moment’s notice. Two of our most reliable and swift-footed men were always two days’ march ahead, scouting along paths where horses could not go, to gather information from Indians about Narvaez. We also had a detachment of sharpshooters in the lead to intercept anyone who left Narvaez’s camp—and possibly Narvaez himself. Soon enough, they caught up to one Alonso Mata, who called himself a royal secretary and said he was sent by Narvaez to show us a copy of his commission. Mata was with four others to act as witnesses. When they reached us, they greeted Cortés and all of us as humbly as possible, and our general dismounted when he heard who they were.

Alonso Mata began to read his papers to us, but Cortés stopped him and asked if he was, in fact, a royal secretary. When Mata answered yes, Cortés told him to show his credentials. If everything was in order, he could fulfill his mission, and Cortés would know what was proper for a servant of the empire. But if not, there was no reason to read his papers; moreover, the documentation must include an original commission signed by the emperor himself if he wished us to acknowledge his authority.

Mata was startled by this; he knew well he was no royal secretary, and was struck dumb, just as were his companions. Cortés excused their discomfort and ordered some food set before them, and we paused for a short rest. Cortés then told them that we were on our way to the township of Tampanicita, near Narvaez’s headquarters, where he could find us if he had more to say. During the whole exchange Cortés showed such control that he never uttered a harsh word about Narvaez; he also spoke privately with the men and gave them a little gold, so when they returned to Narvaez, they could hardly say enough good things about Cortés and our group.

While these men were still with us, many of our soldiers, to show off, wore gold chains and jewels, creating a great impression of our wealth. This made such a favorable impression at Narvaez’s headquarters that many leading officers wished for peace between the two commanders.

Meanwhile, we continued to Tampanicita, where Sandoval soon arrived with his small detachment of sixty men; the old and sick from the garrison, as I mentioned above, had already been placed with our Papalote Indian allies. He also brought the five friends and relatives of Aillon who had deserted Narvaez and long wished to join Cortés, who welcomed them kindly and then spoke privately with Sandoval about the whole affair with the furious priest Guevara and his companion Vergara. Sandoval also told how he had sent two Spanish soldiers, disguised as Indians, into Narvaez’s camp. They looked exactly like natives, each carrying a basket of cherries, pretending to sell them. They soon found a buyer in the boastful Salvatierra, who paid them with glass beads and, believing they were Indians, sent them to cut grass for his horse. At about vespers, they returned with a load of grass and took it to the stable where the horse was tied. They crouched as Indians do near Salvatierra’s quarters and overheard a conversation among Narvaez’s officers. Salvatierra was saying, “Oh! how lucky we are to have arrived just as the traitor Cortés has collected over 700,000 pesos! We shall all become rich, for his officers and men together must have at least that much.”

They listened to more talk like this until late, then quietly went to the shed, saddled and bridled Salvatierra’s horse, and rode away. They similarly captured another horse on the road back and brought both safely to Sandoval.

Cortés wished to see the horses, but Sandoval told him he had left them with the invalids in Papalote, as he had taken a rugged mountain path impassable for horses to avoid Narvaez’s troops.

Cortés was delighted by the trick played on Salvatierra and how he lost his horse, exclaiming, “He will now threaten us with more vengeance than ever!” The next morning, we heard, when Salvatierra discovered that the two Indians who sold him cherries had run off with his horse, saddle, and bridle, he was furious—especially after learning that they were Spaniards disguised from Cortés’ force.

## CHAPTER CXVI. {.chapter}
*How we decided to send Father Olmedo once again to Narvaez’s camp, and what we asked him to say.*

When all our troops had gathered at Tampanicita, we resolved to send Father Olmedo—a particularly shrewd man—to Narvaez with a letter, which, after the usual greetings, read more or less as follows:

We all welcomed his arrival in this land, believing that with such a valiant captain as himself, together we could perform great service for God and our emperor. However, not only had he ignored our previous letter, but he had also branded us, His Majesty’s loyal subjects, as traitors, and by his message to Motecusuma, had nearly caused the entire land to break into open rebellion. We asked him to choose whichever province he and his troops liked best; we were willing to make room for him and to act as loyal servants of the emperor. We had asked him to send us the original documents of his commission, if he had any, so we could confirm they were signed by His Majesty, but he had ignored this and used abusive language against us, encouraging revolt among the locals. We again asked him, in the name of God and our emperor, to send us his papers within three days by a royal secretary to read them to us; we were ready and promised to obey His Majesty’s command, if his commission was legitimate. That was why we had come to Tampanicita, to be near him. If he could not produce any such commission from the emperor and wished to return to Cuba, he was free to do so; we only asked that he stop inciting revolt, or we would have to treat him as an enemy, take him prisoner, and send him in chains to the emperor, against whose authority he had started this conflict and stirred up the towns. Any bloodshed or damage, by fire or otherwise, would be his responsibility.

We communicated these things by letter only because no royal secretary dared come in person, fearing what happened to the auditor Aillon; and we marveled at his daring in acting as he did. Cortés felt bound in honor and justice to the emperor not to leave such a serious offense unpunished; thus, he was summoned, by virtue of Cortés’s office as captain-general and chief-justice of New Spain, to appear before him and answer for *crimen laesae majestatis*. Finally, he was asked in earnest to return the cotton goods and gold trinkets taken from the fat cazique, give back to their families the Indian women given to us, and ensure his men did not touch the property of the inhabitants.

This letter ended with the customary courtesies, and was signed by Cortés, the officers, and other soldiers, including myself. With this letter, Father Olmedo, along with one of our men, Bartolome de Usagre (who had a brother with Narvaez’s artillery), set out for Narvaez’s camp. Their reception is described in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CXVII. {.chapter}
*How Father Olmedo arrived at Narvaez’s headquarters at Sempoalla, and what he did there.*

When Father Olmedo reached Narvaez’s camp, he set about fulfilling Cortés’s orders. He privately approached several officers in Narvaez’s force and the artillerymen Rodrigo, Mino, and Usagre, giving them the gold bars our general had intended for them. He also suggested to Andreas de Duero that he pay a visit to our camp, and then met with Narvaez himself.

Though Olmedo behaved with great humility before Narvaez, the latter’s confidants were suspicious and advised Narvaez to imprison the father. This was nearly carried out, except that Duero, Velasquez’s private secretary, got word of it.

Duero, a native of Tudela on the Duero, and Narvaez, from near Valladolid (or the town itself), were not only countrymen but relatives. Duero had great influence and authority, so he called on Narvaez and told him he’d heard about the plan to imprison Father Olmedo. He argued that such an act would do no good; even if there was reason to think Olmedo was plotting for Cortés, as a messenger he should not be mistreated—especially since Cortés had treated Narvaez’s envoys honorably and sent them away with gifts. Duero stated that since Father Olmedo had arrived, he had often conversed with him and had only ever heard that Cortés and his officers wanted friendly relations with Narvaez. He should remember that Cortés spoke well of him, and that all the men held Narvaez in great respect. It would not be a brave act to seize a priest, and the other man was the brother of Usagre the artilleryman. It would be best to treat them well, and invite the father to dinner, during which the truth could be learned from him.

With these and similar arguments, Duero softened Narvaez’s anger, and promptly told Father Olmedo all that had happened. Narvaez then invited the father to dine with him, treating him most courteously.

Father Olmedo, ever prudent and clever, asked Narvaez with a friendly smile for a private conversation, and they walked together in the courtyard. Olmedo began: “I know well, your excellency, that you meant to have me imprisoned; though I assure you, there is no one among your followers more loyal to you than I am. I also know that some officers with Cortés would gladly see him in your hands; in fact, I have no doubt we will all be under your command soon. To prepare for this, they wrote you a letter, full of high-flown language, and got several of our own men to sign it. I was ordered to deliver you this letter, but because of its contents, I was nearly tempted to throw it into the river instead.”

Narvaez asked to see the letter, and Father Olmedo said he had left it in his room, but would bring it. Meanwhile, Salvatierra, the braggart, had joined Narvaez; Olmedo hurried to Duero, urging him to be present as he handed over the letter, and to bring as many others as possible so its content would be known by all. Olmedo then went back to Narvaez, handed him Cortés’s letter, and said: “Your excellency must not be surprised if in this letter you find Cortés speaking rather boldly; still, I assure you, if you respond kindly, he will submit to you with all his men.”

All those present urged Narvaez to read the letter. Some were annoyed, but Narvaez and Salvatierra just laughed at it. Duero commented, “Frankly, I can make nothing of this! The reverend father has assured me Cortés and all his men are ready to join our side, and yet they presume to write such things to our general.” Augustin Bermudez, a captain and chief constable in Narvaez’s camp, echoed this: “Father Olmedo has privately assured me the same, that with a little negotiation, Cortés himself would come and place himself and his men under our general’s authority. Since he is camped nearby, we could do no better than send Señor Salvatierra and Señor Duero there, and I will go along.” Bermudez only said this to see what Salvatierra would answer, and he immediately declared he had no wish to visit a traitor.

“Don’t speak so rashly, Señor Salvatierra,” said Father Olmedo. “With a little more moderation, in a few days, you may have him in your power.”

It was decided, however, that Duero would be sent to Cortés, and Narvaez had a private meeting with him and three other officers, asking them to try to persuade Cortés to meet with him at an Indian village midway between the two camps, to discuss the division and boundaries of the country. Narvaez was serious about this, and said as much to a group of about twenty of his devoted men. Word of this quickly reached Father Olmedo and Duero, who at once informed Cortés.

We will leave Father Olmedo for a time in Narvaez’s camp, where he became close with Salvatierra (being from Burgos, while Olmedo was from Olmedo), dining with him daily. Meanwhile, we will let Duero make preparations for his journey, accompanied by Usagre, so that Narvaez would not get anything out of him. We must now see what happened in our own camp during this time.

## CHAPTER CXVIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes reviews all his troops, and we are supplied with two hundred and fifty very long new lances by the Tchinantecs.*

As soon as Cortes learned of Narvaez’s arrival in New Spain, and had received all the information regarding the size of his army, he sent a soldier who had served in the Italian campaigns—and who had extensive knowledge of weapons and the best way to fit lance points—into the province of the Tchinantecs,\[78\*\] where some of our men had gone looking for gold mines. The Tchinantecs were bitter enemies of the Mexicans and had only recently formed an alliance with us. This people used a type of lance, much longer than our Spanish lances, fitted with a sharp double-edged flint point.

Cortes had heard about this weapon and sent word to the Tchinantecs to send him three hundred of these lances, but requested that they remove the flint points and instead fit double points made of metal, as copper was abundant in their country. The soldier sent with these instructions brought along a sample of the desired lance point. The Tchinantecs quickly agreed, and, since every settlement in that province set earnestly to work, the lances were soon complete and met our expectations. In addition, Cortes instructed the soldier Tovilla to ask the Tchinantecs to send 2,000 of their warriors, all armed with similar lances, to the district of Panguenequita on Easter Day, and there to seek out our camp. The chiefs agreed to our request and also gave Tovilla over 200 of their warriors, all armed with the same lances, to accompany him back to our camp right away. The rest were to join later with another of our men, named Barrientos, who had gone further into their country in search of mines and was perhaps forty to forty-eight miles farther inland. The lances Tovilla brought proved excellent, and he immediately instructed us in their use, especially in facing the cavalry.

After this, Cortes reviewed all his troops, and we found, counting all the officers, drummers, and pipers, but not Father Olmedo, that our total numbered 260 men. Among these were five cavalrymen, a few crossbowmen, fewer musketeers, and two artillerymen. Given our small numbers, we placed our greatest hopes in the use of our lances, in which, as will be seen, we were fortunately not disappointed.

## CHAPTER CXIX. {.chapter}
*How Duero, along with the soldier Usagre and two of his Indian servants from Cuba, arrived in our camp; who this Duero was, and the reason for his visit, &c.*

I must now ask the reader to recall the earlier part of this history, where I explained that Cortes secured the appointment of commander-in-chief through the help of Duero and Amador de Lares. Both were on very confidential terms with Diego Velasquez: the former as his private secretary, the latter as royal treasurer. Through their efforts, Cortes was given the post, in return for which he promised to share with them all the gold, silver, and jewels that came to him.

When Duero arrived in our camp, he saw firsthand Cortes’s power and riches, and he came not only to help make peace between the two leaders, but also to claim his share of the riches acquired, since Amador de Lares had died.

Cortes, always shrewd and far-sighted, promised Duero not only immense wealth but also a command equal in rank to his own, and said he would grant him a vast area of territory. In return, Duero was to win over Augustin Bermudez and some other high-ranking officers (whose names I will not mention), who were to swear—on their lives and honour—to oppose Narvaez in every possible way and block all his schemes against us. If Narvaez were killed or captured and his army defeated, all the gold and the towns of New Spain were to be divided among the three. Bermudez was to confirm this by signature. To further gain loyalty, Duero brought with him as much gold as two men could carry, along with other valuables, meant for Bermudez, the two priests, Guevara and Juan de Leon, and other prominent people who would be included in the plan. Cortes and Duero then carefully discussed how it would all be put into action.

Duero reached our camp on the eve of Easter, and stayed until the next evening. During his visit, he had several private talks with Cortes, and before he mounted his horse, he spoke again with our leader, who was overheard saying as he took his leave: “Well, Señor Duero, may God bless you. Remember to stand by all you have promised! Within three days I will be at your headquarters with my troops; if, however, I find you have not kept your word, upon my conscience”—an oath he often used—“you will be the first man my lance strikes.”

To this, Duero smilingly replied, “You need have no worries, I assure you. Nothing will be lacking on my part to achieve your aims.”

Duero then mounted his horse and returned to Narvaez, bringing him the most reassuring reports and assuring him that both Cortes and our whole group desired nothing more than to serve under his command. As soon as Duero had left, Cortes called for Juan Velasquez de Leon, a respected officer who, though a close relative of the governor of Cuba, was completely devoted to Cortes. He had won him over with valuable gifts and promises of an important post in New Spain—potentially to make him equal in command to himself; indeed, Velasquez always showed the deepest loyalty and tireless service to Cortes, as will become clear later.

When Velasquez de Leon arrived, Cortes greeted him with a friendly smile and said, “I sent for you, Velasquez, because Duero told me it is rumored among Narvaez’s officers that you and I have quarreled and that you intend to join them. So, I want you to ride your strong gray mare to Narvaez’s camp, taking with you all your gold, and your *fanfarrona* (as Velasquez called his heavy gold chain), and other valuables I shall give you, including a new fanfarrona twice as heavy as your own. When you get there, try to find out what Narvaez is planning. Afterwards, Ordas will also go, as if he were calling on Narvaez in his duty as house-steward to the governor of Cuba.”

Juan Velasquez answered that he would willingly carry out Cortes’s orders, but refused to take his gold or chain with him. If Cortes wanted to send valuables for others, he promised to deliver them safely; but he felt he’d serve our interests better with his own wits than with all the gold and jewels together. Cortes replied, “I am fully convinced of that; it’s why I chose you. But if you won't take all your gold and valuables with you, you may as well stay here.”

Velasquez continued to refuse for some time, until Cortes took him aside and spoke privately; then Velasquez gave in and set out, accompanied by Juan del Rio, one of Cortes’s servants.

As soon as Velasquez, whom Cortes had sent to Narvaez mainly to irritate him, had left, he ordered the drummer Canillas and our piper Benito to play, and instructed Sandoval to form the troops for marching, and we set out briskly for Sempoalla. On the way, we killed two musk hogs, which our soldiers took as a sign of victory. That night, we camped on the slope of a hill near a brook, using large stones as bolsters as usual, carefully posted our sentries, and sent out patrols.

The next morning we continued straight on and reached, by midday, the river where the town of Vera Cruz now stands and where goods arrive from Spain. At the time, there were only a few Indian huts and scattered trees, under which we rested for a while, finding the heat very oppressive. We must now return to Juan Velasquez and recount what happened to him in Narvaez’s camp.

## CHAPTER CXX. {.chapter}
*How Juan Velasquez arrives at Narvaez’s headquarters, and what took place there.*

Juan Velasquez traveled with such speed that he arrived in Sempoalla just before daybreak. He stopped at the house of the fat cacique, since the servant Cortes had sent with him did not have a horse and therefore had to walk on foot to Narvaez’s quarters. The people of Sempoalla all recognized him and were very pleased to see and talk with him again. However, when some of Narvaez’s men, who were staying in the cacique’s house, heard the locals say that it was Velasquez de Leon, one of Malinche’s officers, they quickly hurried to Narvaez and told him they had news that deserved a reward. Even before Leon arrived at his quarters, Narvaez, very happy at the news, went out with several officers to meet him and welcomed him with a warm embrace. After they went inside, Narvaez asked Velasquez to take a seat (for this expedition they had even brought chairs with them) and in a friendly tone scolded him for not stopping at his house. He then sent men for Leon’s horse and luggage, insisting he must stay in his own quarters. Velasquez replied, though, that he could not stay long, as he had only come to pay his respects and see if peace and friendship could not be established between his excellency and Cortes.

Narvaez’s face turned red at this, and he asked Velasquez how he could speak of peace and friendship with someone who, like a traitor, had run off with the armament of his own cousin, the governor of Cuba.

Juan Velasquez replied just as sharply that Cortes was no traitor, but a loyal servant to his emperor; that the services Cortes had provided the crown could never rightly be called treason, and he asked Narvaez not to use such words in his presence again.

At this, Narvaez changed his tone and offered Velasquez great incentives if he would stay with him. He promised—oath and all—to make him second in command if he could persuade Cortes’ men to join Narvaez’s side willingly. Velasquez answered that he would consider himself the lowest traitor if he left the general he had sworn to follow, to whom he was sure everything done in New Spain was for the emperor’s good. On the contrary, he was determined to stay just as faithful to Cortes as to the emperor himself, and earnestly asked Narvaez not to raise the topic again.

While they talked, Narvaez’s chief officers gradually arrived to greet Velasquez. They did so very politely, as Velasquez was a man of stately appearance and impressive stature, with a dignified beard, a heavy gold chain slanting across his shoulder, and a strong, winning presence. After his conversation with Narvaez, Velasquez visited with other officers and spoke privately with Father Olmedo, Duero, and Bermudez.

However, Narvaez’s party saw things quite differently regarding Velasquez. Some officers—among them Gamarra, Juan Yuste, Juan Bono de Quexo, and the ever-boastful Salvatierra—strongly urged Narvaez to put Velasquez in chains, believing he was secretly trying to win men over to Cortes. Narvaez was easily swayed and already gave orders to that effect, but Bermudez, Duero, and others loyal to our general got wind of it and pleaded with Narvaez on the wisdom of such a move, questioning what he would gain. They argued that even if Cortes had another hundred officers like Velasquez, he could not overcome Narvaez. He should also recall how Cortes received everyone who visited his camp—how well he treated them and sent them off with generous gifts of jewelry and more, so much that everyone who had left him did so laden like bees heading back to their hive. Cortes could have detained Duero, Father Guevara, and others; instead, he respected them all. It would be to Narvaez’s advantage to return this courtesy to Velasquez and invite him to dine the next day.

Narvaez was convinced by these arguments and kindly asked Velasquez to act as mediator between Cortes and himself to see if he might get Cortes and his men to join him. He then invited Velasquez to dinner for the following day. Velasquez agreed to try, but warned that he had little hope; Cortes was very set in his ways. In Velasquez’s opinion, the best settlement would be to divide the provinces between the two leaders, with Cortes happy to let Narvaez choose first.

Velasquez made this remark only to make Narvaez more flexible. During the discussion, Father Olmedo stepped in. As one of Narvaez’s trusted advisers (for so he had made himself out to be), he suggested that Narvaez parade his whole army—including cavalry and artillery—before Velasquez and his servant Juan, so they could report back to Cortes just how powerful Narvaez’s force truly was. Olmedo recommended this only to cause some annoyance to Narvaez’s commanders and soldiers. The alarm was sounded, and the troops had to march past Velasquez, Juan, and Olmedo.

After Velasquez viewed the troops a while, he said to Narvaez, “Certainly, your excellency’s power is great; may God grant you even greater!”

“Well,” replied Narvaez, “are you now convinced it would only take me a day’s march to defeat Cortes and all of you?”

“I won’t argue that,” said Velasquez; “but you should know we wouldn’t sell our lives cheaply.”

The next day Velasquez was set to dine with Narvaez. At the table, he met a nephew of the governor of Cuba—also named Diego Velasquez—who commanded a company. During dinner, the conversation turned to Cortes’ stubbornness and the letter he had written to Narvaez. One word led to another until Diego Velasquez claimed that Cortes and everyone with him were traitors for not submitting to Narvaez.

At hearing this, Juan Velasquez rose, saying with heat, “General Narvaez, I have already asked you not to allow such speech about Cortes or any of his men in my presence. It is disgraceful to insult those who have served His Majesty so faithfully.”

“And I,” interrupted Diego Velasquez, angrily, “say I speak the truth in calling you traitors. You are a traitor, all of you, and you’re not worthy of the name Velasquez.”

Leon reached for his sword, calling Diego a liar, swearing he was a better nobleman than Diego or his uncle, and that the house of Velasquez he belonged to was different from theirs. He offered to prove it on the spot if General Narvaez allowed him.

As many of Narvaez’s officers and some of Cortes’ were present, they intervened and prevented violence, as Leon was just about to draw his sword.

The other officers then advised Narvaez to order Juan Velasquez, his servant, and Father Olmedo to leave the camp immediately, as their presence would only make matters worse. The orders were given, and our men wasted no time leaving. Leon, mounted on his fine mare, dressed in his mail (which he rarely removed), and wearing his helmet, went to take leave of Narvaez. Young Diego Velasquez stood next to Narvaez when Leon asked if Narvaez had any message for Cortes. In a bad temper, Narvaez replied, “I ask you to leave at once—it would have been better if you never came.” Young Velasquez then hurled insults at him. Leon assured him that his insolence would soon get its reward, and that in a few days, they’d see if his deeds matched his words. As tempers rose, five or six of Cortes’ supporters among Narvaez’s officers, who intended to escort Leon, told him strongly that it was time to leave and not waste words. They wanted to get him out quickly, since Narvaez had already given orders for his arrest; indeed, he had reason to hurry, because a large cavalry group was already after him by the time he reached the river mentioned earlier.—We were taking our midday nap when our outpost reported that two or three men on horseback were approaching our camp. We immediately guessed it was Leon, his servant Juan, and Father Olmedo.

Cortes and everyone else were overjoyed to see them safe. Leon then told us all you have just read, including how he had secretly delivered the gifts as Cortes instructed. We were especially entertained by Father Olmedo, who told us about how he had flattered Narvaez, mockingly advised him to sound the alarm and head out with his heavy cannons, and how cleverly he managed to deliver Cortes’ letter. When he described his exchange with Salvatierra—how he claimed they were related, the friendship that supposedly blossomed, and Salvatierra’s boastful threats about capturing Cortes and the rest of us, vowing revenge for his stolen horse—we laughed heartily, merrily forgetting that the next day we’d have to face five times our number, and that our only choices would be victory or death.

When the midday heat eased, we marched on to Sempoalla and camped for the night by a brook about four miles from the town, at a spot where, at that time, there was a bridge (there is now a farmhouse there).

I must again return to Narvaez’s headquarters and continue with what happened after Leon and Father Olmedo left.

## CHAPTER CXXI. {.chapter}
*What took place in Narvaez’s quarters after the return to our camp of the ambassadors we had sent there.*

The effects of Leon’s and Father Olmedo’s visit to Narvaez’s camp soon became apparent. Several officers, who caught wind of the valuable gifts Cortes had sent for distribution among them, noticed that a faction was forming in his favor, and urged the highest vigilance; orders were given that both infantry and cavalry should always be ready for action.

The fat cacique—whom I’ve often mentioned—was now very anxious about having handed over to Narvaez the women, cotton goods, and gold we had left in his care. Because of this, he would have acted as a spy for Narvaez even if Narvaez hadn’t strictly ordered him to.

When his spies informed him that we were advancing towards Sempoalla, he said to Narvaez, “How can you be so relaxed? Do you think Malinche and his teules are people like you? I tell you, if you don’t stay alert, he’ll attack you by surprise one day and destroy you all.”

Even though Narvaez and his supporters laughed at the fat cacique’s warnings, they thought it was time to act decisively. Narvaez formally declared open war against us, with fire and sword. We learned this from a soldier called Galleguillo, who deserted from Narvaez’s camp during the night—or perhaps was secretly sent by Duero to warn us.

Narvaez then encamped his whole army—cannons and all—about a mile outside Sempoalla, intending to closely monitor us and prevent any of our people from passing without being captured or killed. But since it rained heavily at this time, his men grew tired of standing in water. Narvaez’s officers, who were unused to the discomforts of war and thought defeating us would be easy, suggested returning to their old quarters. They also claimed it would be shameful for them all to march out against such a small force as ours, and thought it enough to put their artillery—eighteen heavy guns—in front of their camp. At night, forty cavalrymen could guard the road to Sempoalla, the only way we could advance. Cavalry pickets and light infantry could watch the river crossing and alert the camp if we approached; meanwhile, another twenty cavalrymen always stood ready at night in the courtyard next to Narvaez’s quarters.

Their real intention was to get back to comfortable quarters. “So,” they said to Narvaez, “do you fear Cortes so much that you believe, just because the fat cacique says so, that he would dare come right up to our very quarters with his meager force? Just let him try—it’ll be the end for him.”

Narvaez let himself be talked into it, ordering the troops back to their old lodgings. He then announced that whoever brought him Cortes or Sandoval, dead or alive, would get a reward of 2,000 pesos.

Command of the river outpost was given to a certain Hurtado and to Gonzalo Carrasco, who now lives in Puebla. The watchword for Narvaez’s men, for the battle, was to be “Santa Maria! Santa Maria!” It was also decided that strong guards would be placed in Narvaez’s quarters at night, and similar posts in the quarters of Salvatierra, Gamarra, and Juan Bono.

Those were Narvaez’s preparations; let us now see what was happening in our own camp.

## CHAPTER CXXII. {.chapter}
*The order of our march against Narvaez; the speech Cortes made to us; and our reply to it.*

After we arrived at the brook mentioned above, about four miles from Sempoalla, we stopped in a beautiful meadow along its side and posted sentinels, choosing only men we could absolutely trust. Cortes, seated on horseback, called all the officers and soldiers to gather around him. He asked for a few moments of silence and then addressed us with a speech full of praise and grand promises.

He began by recalling our departure from Cuba, mentioning all the hardships we had endured up to that moment, and then continued: “You know well, gentlemen, that the governor of Cuba made me captain-general of the armament, though many among you were just as deserving. You also remember that we left Cuba expecting to found a colony in this country. It was under that pretense that everyone was invited to join the expedition, yet it later turned out the armament was mainly for commercial gain. I was preparing to follow my instructions and to return to Cuba to give Diego Velasquez a full account of all our actions, when you asked me—yes, even compelled me—to establish a settlement here in the name of our emperor. Thanks to God, we have managed to do this so far. You then elected me captain-general and chief justice of New Spain, keeping me in these positions until we should learn the king’s wishes. Later, another dispute arose about returning to Cuba, but I won’t dwell on that since it’s fresh in everyone’s memory; in any case, we all came to believe that our choice to remain here was blessed by God, who has favored all our efforts in his service and granted us success on behalf of the emperor. Most important, I must remind you of the promise we made to the emperor when we sent a full account of our achievements and a description of the country. We asked his majesty not to grant the government of this land to anyone until our delegates could be heard, because we feared that the powerful bishop of Burgos would seek to get the post for Diego Velasquez or for one of his friends or relatives. We told his majesty that this country was so vast that it deserved to be ruled by a prince or nobleman of his court, and that we would only obey an appointment from the king himself. Along with this account, we sent our monarch all the gold, silver, jewels, and other valuables we had collected. These were, up until then, our only reward for all the hardships we had suffered—and how often we have faced death in battle! What countless hardships we have endured! We have slept on bare ground, in rain and snow, never laying down our arms. Reflecting on these trials truly stirs the heart. In the many battles we’ve fought, we have lost more than fifty men, and we are all covered with wounds, with many still suffering from them. First, we faced the dangers at sea; then came the battles of Tabasco, Almeria, and Cingapacinga, plus the ambushes in the mountains, passes, and villages. How close we came to ruin at the battles of Tlascala! We barely had time to catch our breath before facing Cholulla, where the pots were ready to cook our flesh for the locals to eat! None of us will ever forget marching through the mountain passes where Montezuma stationed all his troops and blocked the road with fallen trees, hoping none of us would survive! Yet, even after all this, we marched into Mexico itself and set up in the center of the city; but how often did we face death there! No one could have imagined such dangers! And yet, some among us suffered even more—those who, under Cordoba and Grijalva, had twice visited these coasts before. On their voyages of discovery they endured many kinds of trouble, lost many companions, suffered wounds themselves, and lost everything they owned. It would be impossible to mention all the miseries suffered, nor do I have the time, as night draws near; and now, after all this, Pamfilo Narvaez comes charging in like a mad dog to destroy us all, calls us villains and traitors, and informs Montezuma in the spirit of a rebel, not a thoughtful general. He even dared to imprison one of the emperor’s auditors—a crime by itself—and finally has declared war against us, as if we were Moors.”

Cortes then praised our courage in every battle: “Until now,” he continued, “we have fought to defend our lives, but now we must fight for our lives and our honor. Our enemies mean to take us all prisoner and steal our property. Who knows if Narvaez is truly acting on the emperor’s authority; it’s more likely he was inspired by our arch-enemy, the bishop of Burgos. If Narvaez defeats us—which God forbid—all we have done for God and the king will count as crimes. They’ll investigate us, accuse us of murder and theft, and of starting a rebellion, though Narvaez is truly guilty; what will be praised in him would be condemned in us. As this is clear to you,” said Cortes in closing, “and as honest cavaliers we must defend the honor of his imperial majesty, our own honor, and our property, I have marched from Mexico, trusting in God and your help, to defy such injustice.”

Several officers and soldiers replied, speaking for all the rest, that he could depend on us to either conquer or die.

Cortes was extremely pleased with our reply, saying he expected nothing less. He promised that we would have no cause for regret, since wealth and honor would reward our bravery. He then again asked for our attention, reminding us that, in war, prudence and experience were more important than pure courage. He knew well our bravery and how everyone wanted to be first into the enemy’s ranks. Right now, the main goal was to capture the eighteen cannons Narvaez had arrayed in front of his camp. For this, he chose sixty of our youngest men, including myself, and placed us under Pizarro, who was a daring young man then (and as unknown as Peru itself was at the time). Once we had taken the cannon, we were to storm Narvaez’s quarters, set on top of a tall temple. Sandoval, with another sixty men, would try to seize Narvaez himself. His instructions were as follows: “Gonzalo de Sandoval, chief constable of New Spain, I order you to seize Pamfilo Narvaez, and to kill him if he will not surrender. We must do this as loyal servants of God and the emperor, and in revenge for the insult Narvaez gave one of his majesty’s auditors. At our headquarters. Signed, Hernando Cortes; and countersigned, Pedro Hernandez, secretary.”

Cortes also promised a reward of 3000 pesos to the first man to lay hands on Narvaez, 2000 to the second, and 1000 to the third.

Leon was commanded to lead sixty men and capture Diego Velasquez, with whom he had argued bitterly. Cortes kept twenty men by his side to help wherever most needed; mainly, his goal was to capture Narvaez and Salvatierra.

After Cortes issued these written orders to his officers, he said, “I know Narvaez has four times more men than we do; but most of them aren’t used to war. Many dislike him, many are sick, and we’ll catch them by surprise. Resistance on their side will be useless, and I am confident God will grant us victory. Narvaez’s men also know they lose nothing by changing sides, and would be better off with us than him. So, gentlemen, after God, our lives and honor depend entirely on our courage. The praise of future generations is in our hands, and it is more honorable to die in battle than live a life without honor.” With that, Cortes finished, as it began to rain and grow late.

Later, when I thought back on this speech by Cortes, I was surprised he didn’t mention the secret arrangements he had with some of Narvaez’s officers. Instead, he focused on urging us to use all our courage. Eventually, however, I realized that in doing so he showed the wisdom of a great general—by making us believe our only hope was in God and our own bravery, he forced us to give our best.

The most dangerous task was given to us, who were to seize the cannons under Pizarro’s command: we had to begin the attack and storm the guns directly. Pizarro gave us strict orders, showing how we should advance with lowered lances and fight bravely until we had taken the guns, after which the artillerymen, Mesa and Amenga, were to load them with the balls at hand and fire at Salvatierra’s quarters.

We completely lacked defensive armor, and that night many of us would have given anything for a cuirass, a helmet, or a steel gorget.

Our password was: *Espiritu Santo! Espiritu Santo!*—such words are secretly given to soldiers in wartime so they can recognize one another. Narvaez’s password was: *Santa Maria! Santa Maria!*

Because I was well-liked by Sandoval, he asked me, should I survive after we captured the cannons, to come to him immediately and not leave his side; I promised, and did as he wished, as you’ll see.

We remained in camp during the early part of the night, busying ourselves with preparations and thinking about the difficult task ahead; any thought of supper was pointless, as we didn’t have a single mouthful of food. We sent out pickets and posted sentinels—myself among them. I hadn’t stood watch long when one of our outposts came to ask if I’d heard a noise. I answered no, and just after, a corporal told me that Galleguillo, who had deserted Narvaez to join us, was nowhere to be found—clearly a spy. Since it was certain he had betrayed our approach, Cortes ordered our immediate advance on Sempoalla. I soon heard the drum and pipe; we all marched forward. However, Galleguillo was found soon after, fast asleep under some cloaks, entirely unaccustomed to cold and damp.

Cortes quickly ordered silence for the drum and pipe, and we marched steadily on until we reached the river where, as mentioned earlier, Carrasco and Hurtado were posted with part of the enemy. They were completely surprised by our sudden arrival, and we captured Carrasco, but Hurtado escaped to give the alarm.

I’ll never forget crossing that river, swollen by rain, and the struggle to cross the loose, slippery stones, made worse by the weapons slung on our backs. I remember Carrasco, upon capture, crying out: “Look out, Señor Cortes, Narvaez has marched out with all his men to meet you!” But since Hurtado had already gone to alert the enemy, it didn’t matter whether Carrasco tried to warn his commander by shouting. Cortes put Carrasco in the custody of his secretary Hernandez and ordered us to attack. We quickly lowered our lances and charged the cannons so fiercely that the artillerymen barely had time to fire four rounds, all passing overhead except one, which killed three of our men. At the same time, our officers with their men pushed forward to the sound of drum and pipe. A few of Narvaez’s cavalry offered some resistance, but only briefly; six or seven of them fell in the fight. Under Pizarro, we were fortunate to capture all the cannons, but we didn’t dare leave them with just our artillerymen, because Narvaez kept showering us with arrows and musket shots from the temple roof. Sandoval soon arrived with his detachment, and though Narvaez put up strong resistance, Sandoval managed to climb the steps of the temple, breaking past enemy pikes and lances. Seeing the fight over the cannons was settled, we handed them to the artillerymen and went with Pizarro to aid Sandoval. We arrived just as Narvaez had driven Sandoval down five or six steps; our arrival turned the tide, and Sandoval pushed forward again with new energy. We had to fight hard with our long lances to make our way through enemy ranks; suddenly, I heard someone, Narvaez himself, cry out loudly, “Help me, oh blessed Virgin! I am a dead man! They’ve put out one of my eyes!” At the same time, we all cried out, “*Victory! Victory!* for those of the password *Espiritu Santo!* Narvaez is down!” Still, we couldn’t take the temple completely until Martin Lopez, who built the brigantines, thought to set fire to the straw on the top of the temple, which he did at once with his tall frame. Narvaez’s men tumbled down the steps, and Narvaez himself was captured. Pedro Sanchez Farsan was the first to seize him—I mentioned this to Sandoval and some of Narvaez’s officers present. Instantly a thousand voices rang out, “*Long live the emperor and general Cortes, in his imperial name!* Victory, victory! Narvaez is dead!”

Fighting still continued in other parts, as some of Narvaez’s officers held out in separate temples. Cortes, with his usual foresight, sent a herald to command Narvaez’s men, under penalty of death, to join the imperial standard at once. This, along with the cannon fire, our cheers, and the belief that Narvaez was dead, had the desired effect, and only Diego Velasquez’s and Salvatierra’s men, who had retreated to another tall temple, refused to yield. Sandoval, however, was not discouraged by their position. He took half his men and, while the others remained below, attacked so fiercely with their swords that the defenders surrendered, so Salvatierra and Diego Velasquez were taken prisoner.

In our haste, we had only put fetters on Narvaez’s legs, but now Sandoval ordered tighter security. Cortes arrived at this point—Leon and Ordas brought in Salvatierra, Diego Velasquez, and other top officers as prisoners; Cortes was still in armor and had exerted himself so greatly, riding up and down in the heat, that he was literally dripping with sweat and could barely breathe. Twice he asked Sandoval, at first not understandable, “Where is Narvaez? Where is Narvaez?” “Here he is! Here he is!” Sandoval replied, “and quite safe.” “That is good, my son Sandoval,” Cortes said, still breathless. “Don’t move from here for now, nor let any of your men wander off, and keep a strong guard over the prisoners. I’ll go see how the fighting is elsewhere.”

With that, Cortes rode off, and seeing that some of Narvaez’s men were still resisting, he sent another herald to order them to surrender and turn their arms over to the constable.

All this took place at night, with rain at intervals. When we entered the town, it was pitch dark and raining hard; the moon didn’t rise until later, but even the darkness helped us, for swarms of glowing beetles kept flying about, which Narvaez’s troops mistook for the lit fuses of our matchlocks, giving them the impression we had many more muskets than we actually did.

Narvaez, having lost an eye and otherwise badly wounded, asked Sandoval if his surgeon could tend to his and the other officers’ wounds. Sandoval agreed, and while the surgeon was at work, Cortes quietly stepped up to observe. Someone pointed out to Narvaez that Cortes was nearby; upon turning, Narvaez said, “Indeed, general, you have reason to be proud of this victory, and of my being taken prisoner!”

“I am,” replied Cortes, “every way grateful to God for it, and for the brave companions he has given me; but I can assure you, this victory is the least remarkable we have yet won in New Spain.”

With this, Cortes broke off the conversation and again warned Sandoval to guard the prisoners carefully. As I mentioned above, we had only shackled Narvaez’s legs, but now we secured him more thoroughly and placed a strong guard over him. I was among them, and Sandoval gave me secret orders that no one was to see the prisoner until next morning, when Cortes would decide what to do. We did not feel completely safe; readers will remember that Narvaez had detached forty cavalry to prevent our crossing the river. This unit was still nearby, and we feared they might attack to free Narvaez and the other prisoners. So we kept careful watch, while Cortes sent Oli and Ordas to persuade them, with tempting promises, to surrender peacefully. They needed to borrow a couple of horses from Narvaez’s men for this, since ours were left behind a hill near Sempoalla.

When Oli and Ordas reached them, they gave them encouraging words and made generous promises in Cortes’ name, and the cavalry quickly agreed to surrender.

Daylight soon broke, and when the cavalry detachment reached our camp, the drummers and pipers of Narvaez’s corps, without orders from Cortes or anyone else, began playing and shouting, “Long live these brave Romans, who, though few, have defeated Narvaez and his army!” And another lively fellow named Guidela, a black man, shouted at the top of his voice, “Look! Even the Romans themselves could not claim such a glorious victory!” Whatever we said, we could not stop their shouting or their music, until Cortes ordered one drummer, Tepia, who was half mad, to be seized.

Just then, Oli and Diego de Ordas returned with the cavalry detachment, accompanied by Duero, Bermudez, and several other of our general’s friends. All came together to pay their respects to Cortes, who had removed his armor and was seated in an armchair, wearing a wide orange-colored cloak. It was truly a remarkable sight to see the calm and joy on his face as he greeted each of them, and amusing to hear his pleasant words. He certainly had every reason to be proud of the power and greatness he had suddenly gained!

After these officers had paid their respects, they went off to their quarters. Now, as for the list of dead and wounded on both sides: Among the dead was Narvaez’s standard-bearer, Fuentes, from a noble family of Seville; and three of his chief officers, including Rojas, a native of Old Castile. Among the three soldiers who deserted to the enemy, one named Carretero was also killed; the number of their wounded was very great.

On our side we lost four killed and had several wounded; even the fat cazique was wounded—when he heard we were near Sempoalla, he fled to Narvaez’s quarters and was wounded there. Cortes ordered his wound treated and sent him home, telling everyone not to bother him.

Cervantes and Escalona, who deserted to Narvaez, gained little by their treachery; Escalona was severely wounded, and Cortes ordered Cervantes to be well whipped.

I should also mention the braggart Salvatierra, whose cowardice his own men said was beyond all imagination. They swore they had never seen such fear in their lives as he showed when he first heard the sound of our weapons from afar; and when he heard the cry, *Victory! Victory! Narvaez is down!* he became quite ill and threw down his arms.

Diego Velasquez nearly slipped my mind! He was also wounded, and, as planned, was taken prisoner by Leon, with whom he had argued at Narvaez’s dinner. The victor was generous; he brought Velasquez to his own quarters, had his wounds tended, and treated him with great respect.

That is the story of our battle with Narvaez; now let us see what followed.

## CHAPTER CXXIII. {.chapter}
*How the 2000 Indians of Chinantla, whom Cortes had demanded of the caziques there, arrived at Sempoalla after Narvaez’s defeat.*

Late on the same day we defeated Narvaez, the 2000 Indian troops whom Cortes had requested from the Chinantla caziques arrived. They marched into Sempoalla in the best order, two by two, commanded by their chiefs and accompanied by one of our own, Barrientos. All were tall, strong men, armed with enormous lances and huge shields; each lancer followed by a bowman. Their feathers waved, their banners flew, the drums and trumpets sounded, and they continually shouted, “*Long live the emperor! Long live Cortes!*” Their grand appearance—though only 2000, they looked like 3000—astonished Narvaez’s men, who remarked that they would have fared worse had these warriors fought us or joined in our attack.

Cortes received the Chinantla chiefs kindly, thanked them for their efforts, and gave them various Spanish gifts before sending them home. Barrientos went with them, and Cortes warned him not to let the Indians commit any harm in the towns they passed.

## CHAPTER CXXIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortés sends Francisco de Lugo, along with two men who had previously been ship-builders, to the harbor where Narváez’s flotilla was anchored, to bring all the captains and pilots of the vessels to Sempoalla.*

After all of Narváez’s troops had been disarmed, Cortés sent Francisco de Lugo to the harbor where the flotilla was anchored, instructing him to bring all the captains and pilots of the eighteen vessels to Sempoalla. He was also to carry ashore all the sails, rudders, and compasses to make it impossible for the governor of Cuba to obtain any information about the fate of his armament. Anyone who refused to comply with Lugo’s orders was to be immediately put in chains. Cortés also instructed him to bring along Sancho de Barahona, whom Narváez had imprisoned with some other soldiers. Barahona was a wealthy man who had settled in Guatemala and was in very poor health when he arrived at Cortés's quarters; Cortés ensured that he received every necessary care.

When the captains and pilots of the various vessels appeared before Cortés, he made them swear a solemn oath to obey his commands in all things. One Pedro Caballero, captain of a vessel belonging to Narváez, was appointed admiral of the flotilla. It was rumored that Caballero had been bribed with bars of gold to take Cortés's side. Caballero was under strict orders not to allow any ship to leave the harbor, and if any more ships from Cuba should arrive—since Cortés had heard that two more were being prepared for this harbor—he was to seize them, send their sails, rudders, and compasses ashore, and await further instructions. As we shall later see, Caballero obeyed these orders faithfully.

In our headquarters, the following important arrangements were made: León was to be sent to subdue the province of Pánuco and establish a settlement there. For this, 120 men were put under his command, 100 of whom were from Narváez’s troops while the rest were from our own, as they had more experience in the region’s warfare. Two vessels were added to his detachment to better explore the coast and the Pánuco river.

A similar mission, with the same number of men and also accompanied by two vessels, was given to Diego de Ordás, who was to establish a settlement on the river Guacasualco. He was also instructed to send some of his men to Jamaica to purchase cows, horses, pigs, goats, sheep, and Spanish chickens, since the province of Guacasualco was especially suitable for cattle breeding.

Cortés now ordered that all Narváez’s officers and soldiers be released, except for Salvatierra, who pretended to be gravely ill during the recent battle. When the time came to return their arms, it caused considerable bad feeling, as many of our men had taken possession of their horses, swords, and other belongings, and no one wanted to give up what he had acquired. So when Cortés ordered that everyone was to return what he had taken, it led to much discontent among our troops; we argued that since Narváez had declared war of extermination against us and had come to destroy us and steal our property—and since we, loyal subjects of the emperor, had been branded traitors—there was every justification in keeping what we had captured. Nevertheless, since we had elected Cortés as our captain-general, we could only obey him. For my part, I had to return two swords, three daggers, and a shield that I had taken.

Alonso de Ávila, who was a captain and bold enough to speak plainly to Cortés, reproached him privately, together with Father Olmedo, for this decision; he observed that Cortés was acting like Alexander the Great, who, after a great victory, would honor and reward the conquered, ignoring the officers and soldiers who had earned the victory for him. They had every reason for complaint, as Cortés gave all the gifts and valuable offerings brought by neighboring Indians to the vanquished officers, leaving us unrecognized. They claimed this was unfair and showed ingratitude toward those whose valor had raised him to his current position.

Cortés, always ready with an answer, replied that he owed everything to us, but under the circumstances, he had no alternative. It was in everyone’s interest to win over Narváez’s soldiers with kindness, gifts, and promises; their numbers were large compared to ours, and if they ever turned on us in anger, they could easily slaughter us all.

Ávila responded rather haughtily, prompting Cortés to exclaim, “Those who do not wish to obey are free to leave my ranks; Spanish women give birth to enough children, and every son in Spain is a soldier!”

“That is true,” Ávila answered somewhat disrespectfully, “and among those sons there are also many generals and governors as well as soldiers.”

Given the circumstances, Cortés was forced to respond to this rebuke with composure and tried to appease Ávila with promises and gifts, being well aware of Ávila’s strong-minded character and fearing his resentment. From that moment, he took every opportunity to send him on distant assignments; thus, not long after, he sent him to Santo Domingo, and later to Spain, to present Motecusuma’s wardrobe and treasure to the emperor. Unfortunately for Ávila, this last journey ended badly, as he and the treasures were captured by the infamous French pirate Jean Florin, as we shall relate in due course.

Returning to Narváez, he had a Black servant who was sick with smallpox, and through him this dreadful disease—previously unknown in the country, according to the locals—spread throughout New Spain. The devastation was great because the poor Indians, in their ignorance, treated it only by bathing constantly in cold water; vast numbers perished before they could be baptized into the Christian church.

Around this time, the garrison at Vera Cruz demanded their share of the gold divided at Mexico. These men argued that, even though they had not taken part in the Mexico campaign, they had proved just as deserving in the service of God and the emperor by guarding the coast and building a fortress. Many of them, veterans of the battle of Almería, were still suffering from wounds, and others had been captured by Narváez and harshly treated. They insisted, therefore, that they were entitled to a share of the treasure found in Mexico.

Cortés acknowledged the justice of their claim and asked them to send two of their leaders to take charge of their share, adding—if I remember correctly—that it had been deposited for safety in Tlascalla: at any rate, they soon sent two men there to claim it, one of whom was Juan de Alcántara the elder. We shall soon see what happened to Alcántara and the gold, and how quickly fortune turned from joy to sorrow; for we received word that all of Mexico had risen in revolt, that Alvarado was besieged, and that the Mexicans were trying to set fire to our fortifications on every side. Seven of our men had already been killed, and many wounded—immediate assistance was needed.

This news first reached us from two Tlascallans, and without any letter from Alvarado. Soon after, two more arrived with a letter confirming the bad news. God knows how shocked we were! We at once resolved to march on Mexico as quickly as possible. Narváez and Salvatierra were sent under guard to Vera Cruz, where Rodrigo Rangel, whom Cortés had just appointed commander, became responsible for their safe-keeping. Rangel also took charge of several of Narváez’s sick men.

Just as we were about to begin our march, four distinguished envoys arrived from Mexico, sent by Motecusuma to complain to our general about Alvarado’s conduct. Through tears, they told us that Alvarado, without any cause, had led his troops to attack their chiefs and caciques while they were celebrating a feast in honor of their gods Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipuca—even though Alvarado himself had given permission for the feast. Many noblemen were killed or wounded, and in the end, the Mexicans had to defend themselves, killing six Spaniards in the fighting. Cortés, with a dark frown, told them he would go to Mexico himself to investigate matters. The envoys returned to their monarch, who was reportedly far from satisfied. At the same time, Cortés wrote to Alvarado that we were coming to Mexico as fast as possible, and especially warned him not to let Motecusuma escape. He also reported the victory over Narváez, though he assumed Alvarado already knew of it, as did Motecusuma.

## CHAPTER CXXV. {.chapter}
*How we all, including Narváez’s troops, hurry to Mexico by forced marches.*

Upon hearing that Mexico was in rebellion and Alvarado besieged, the plans for settling Pánuco and Guacasualco were abandoned, and León and Ordás were recalled to join the main force.

Cortés soon realized that Narváez’s troops were reluctant to join us for the Mexican campaign, but he urged them, in a most gracious manner, to forget the old rivalry between himself and Narváez, assuring them that their path to wealth and greatness now lay in joining us. By coming with us, they would enter a land where they could serve God and the emperor—and opportunities such as these might not come again. In short, he persuaded them with grand promises until they all agreed to go with us; but had they known the true strength of Mexico, not one would have been so eager.

We now left our quarters and marched with all speed. In Tlascalla, we heard that the Mexicans had continued their attacks on Alvarado as long as Motecusuma and his generals thought we were still fighting Narváez. They had killed seven of our men and burned part of our quarters, holding out until news arrived of our victory. Afterwards, they still refused Alvarado food and water. We received this information just as we reached Tlascalla.

Cortés now reviewed the whole army: 1,300 men, 96 horses, 80 crossbowmen, and 80 musketeers. He deemed this force strong enough to re-enter Mexico, especially as the Tlascallan leaders had supplied 2,000 of their own warriors.

We continued our march with vigor to Tezcuco, a large town where we first noticed the growing hostility against us. No one showed us the least respect; none of the chiefs visited us. It was on St. John’s Day, June 1520, that we, for the second time, entered the city of Mexico. No cacique, noble, or friend greeted us, and the houses were deserted. Only when we reached our quarters did Motecusuma come out to the courtyard to welcome Cortés and congratulate him on his victory over Narváez. But Cortés, proud of his recent triumph, brushed him off, so the monarch returned, gloomy and sad, to his rooms.

We soldiers took possession of our old quarters, and Narváez’s men were given similar lodgings. Alvarado’s men and ours who had just arrived recounted what had happened during our separation: how they had been attacked and the fierce resistance they had to offer. Then we told of our victory over Narváez and his capture.

Cortés then questioned the real cause of the Mexican uprising. Some soldiers, resentful toward Alvarado, claimed that Motecusuma had grieved deeply over the events, and they were sure that not one Spaniard would have survived had Motecusuma been secretly allied with his people; rather, he always tried to calm and restrain them. Alvarado, however, gave a different account to Cortés, insisting the Mexicans had risen to free their king and avenge themselves on us, at the command of their god Huitzilopochtli, for erecting a cross and the Virgin’s image in his temple. Several Mexicans, he said, had tried to remove the holy image from its altar, but could not. The people viewed this as miraculous and told Motecusuma, who then ordered that it not be touched. It was also untrue, Alvarado claimed, that Narváez had sent word to Motecusuma that he would come and free him and lead us away in chains; after Motecusuma saw that, despite having enough ships, we made no move to leave, he expected we would never depart but would return with even more men, including Narváez’s troops.

On this, the Mexicans resolved to kill Alvarado’s entire force and free their king. The less doubt they had about Narváez’s ability to defeat us, the more certain they were of success. Alvarado saw this as his justification for attacking as he did. Cortés wanted to know why he had assaulted the Mexican leaders during a feast. Alvarado responded that two principal men, a native priest, and others had warned him that the Mexicans were planning to strike him right after the festivities.

“But the Mexicans say,” Cortés replied, “that they asked your permission for the feast—permission you gave!”

Alvarado could not deny this but asserted that he chose the moment to strike so as to surprise them, terrify them, and preempt their planned attack.

These explanations did not satisfy Cortés, who told Alvarado rather sternly that he saw little truth but much disorder in his actions, which were damaging to the Spanish cause: “For it is certain,” Cortés added, “that if God did not allow Motecusuma to regain his freedom, it was so his idols could not take the credit.” With that, Cortés turned away and told Alvarado not to speak further of it.

Alvarado also told us of other events that happened during our absence. Once, when he led his men out against the Mexicans as they attempted to burn down his quarters, he ordered a cannon loaded with shot to be fired at them, but it did not fire until he was forced back into the thick of the fighting—when it finally did, it inflicted terrible losses on the attackers. Without this timely event, Alvarado believed he would certainly have been destroyed along with his men; as it was, he lost only two, whom the Mexicans carried off alive. Other stories were told, too: several of his men recounted that when they had no water to drink, they dug a well in the yard beside their quarters and, miraculously, found fresh water, though elsewhere in Mexico all wells yielded only salt water. Providence often aided us; but, in truth, there was another well in town that regularly produced fresh water.

Some claimed that Alvarado attacked the Mexicans out of greed, to seize for himself their splendid robes, gold, and jewels worn at these festivals. I do not believe this, nor did I hear it mentioned at the time, though Bishop de las Casas later asserted such things, which are entirely false. For myself, I am convinced Alvarado struck to terrify the Mexicans and abide by the old saying, “He who attacks first wins the day.” The results were, however, far worse than he expected.

We have solid proof that no blame can be placed on Motecusuma for the hostilities that followed; on the contrary, he ordered the Mexicans not to attack Alvarado, but they replied that they could no longer bear to see their king imprisoned and their countrymen slaughtered during their celebrations. They were resolved to set him free and kill every Spaniard who resisted.

These and many other facts I learned from reliable witnesses who were with Alvarado the entire time. Now, however, I must speak of the fierce battles we fought in this city.

## CHAPTER CXXVI. {.chapter}
*How the Mexicans made war upon us, and the battles we fought with them.*

As Cortes marched to Mexico, he frequently boasted to his officers about the great authority and power he now possessed. He assured them they would see how people from all parts would come out to welcome him, receiving him with every display of splendor; that he was now the absolute master of Mexico, and that Motecusuma and his nobles would not dare to oppose his commands, but would bring him gold in abundance.

However, when Cortes realized how much the situation had changed at Tezcuco—no one coming forward to give him the grand reception he had predicted, none of the principal figures appearing, not even the worst of provisions being offered except with great reluctance—and that this hostility was even stronger in Mexico, and that despite his return with more troops, the inhabitants refused to supply him with provisions, his pride turned into bitterness and anger. It reached the point that when Motecusuma sent two of his nobles to say he wanted to visit Cortes with some important news, Cortes shouted, “He can go to the devil! Since he won’t allow the weekly markets to be held, nor send us any provisions.”

When our other commanders—Leon, Oli, Avila, and Lugo—heard this, they said to him, “Calm your anger, general, and remember the great honors this monarch has given us, the kindnesses we’ve received from him, and how amiable his nature is. If he hadn’t existed, the Mexicans would have feasted on our bodies long ago; and don’t forget that he sought your alliance by offering you his daughter in marriage.”

Their words, carrying a hint of reproach, only made him angrier, and he burst out: “Why should I observe any more ceremony with this dog? Did he not secretly plot with Narvaez, and now refuse us provisions?”

“Our opinion,” replied the other officers, “is that he’s just reacting as his present situation demands and is acting wisely.”

Cortes, however, relied on the strength of his troops and refused to let his anger cool. He instructed the two Mexican nobles to go to their master and demand that he immediately reopen the markets, or else Cortes would have to take action. Both these Mexicans understood the insulting language Cortes had used against their king, and had seen how our other officers had objected. They knew those officers well, as they had all been captains of the guard around their monarch, and knew they were very attached to him. Therefore, whether out of indignation or because the attack on us had already been decided, they returned and repeated everything they heard to Motecusuma. Scarcely a quarter of an hour later, one of our men came running in, severely wounded. He had gone to Tlacupa, a town near Mexico, to bring back some women belonging to Cortes’ household—including Motecusuma’s daughter, whom Cortes had entrusted to the king of Tlacupa, her relative, when we marched against Narvaez. This man reported that Tlacupa and the high road were full of warriors, who took the women and wounded him in two places. If he hadn’t escaped, they would have thrown him into a canoe and sacrificed him to their gods. They had also destroyed one of the bridges along the causeway.

When Cortes and some of us soldiers heard this, we grew very serious. Those of us who had fought the Indians before knew from experience the enormous numbers they would bring to battle. Although we had many more troops and expected we’d fight bravely, we knew we were in a dangerous position. We also realized we might die from hunger or thanks to the advantages the enemy had in such a well-fortified city. Cortes questioned the man from Tlacupa, then sent Ordaz with 400 men—mostly armed with crossbows and muskets, and a few cavalry—to verify the situation. He urged him, if possible, to avoid hostilities and settle things peacefully. Ordaz had only reached halfway down the causeway when he was met by a massive force of Mexicans who, along with those on the rooftops, attacked him so fiercely that eight of his men fell at the first assault and most were wounded, Ordaz himself in three different places. He found it impossible to proceed and retreated to our quarters. During the retreat he lost another excellent soldier, Lezcano, who had performed wonders with his broadsword.

If the force that attacked Ordaz was large, that which now assaulted our quarters was even greater. They pressed us so fiercely with lances, arrows, and stones that in an instant forty of our men were wounded, twelve of whom later died. The numbers opposing us from the front, rear, and the rooftops were so great that Ordaz couldn’t fight his way through for some time. Our cannons, muskets, crossbows, and lances caused enormous damage among the enemy, who threw themselves in the path of our weapons; yet they continued to fight just as fiercely, closing their ranks tighter, and we could not even drive them back an inch. Only after a hard fight did Diego and his men return to our quarters, down twenty-three men and all the rest wounded, and with the enemy’s numbers constantly growing. The attackers didn’t spare insults, calling us old women, ragged scoundrels, and so on. But our losses now were nothing compared to what was to come. The enemy even dared to throw fire into our quarters, while one group attacked us from the front and another from the back, so we almost would’ve been suffocated by flames and smoke if we hadn’t quenched the fire by throwing earth on it, and by pulling down the rooms where the fire spread.

The fighting raged all day until late at night, with stones and lances flying so thick that our quarters were literally covered with them. Meanwhile, we had to tend our wounds, repair the damage, and snatch what rest we could before the next morning. As dawn broke, Cortes decided to sally out with all his troops—including Narvaez’s and the cannons—to either drive off the enemy completely or at least display our power more forcefully than before. The Mexicans, it seemed, were equally determined and not only fought with great courage but brought overwhelming numbers, drawing in fresh fighters with every moment. Even ten thousand Trojan Hectors and as many Rolands could not have broken through their ranks! That battle remains fresh in my memory; no words can describe the enemy’s incredible stubbornness. All our volleys from the heavy guns and muskets were useless; we charged and killed thirty or forty at a time, but their ranks still held firm, their courage seeming only to grow as their numbers fell. Whenever we did push them back into the streets, they retreated only so we would pursue, hoping to draw us farther away from our quarters and surround us—at which they usually succeeded, causing the greatest slaughter among us. Nor did it help when we set their houses on fire, since we could only get from one house to another using wooden drawbridges; once these were pulled up, we had to wade through deep water to reach the next house. But our worst trouble came from the enemy on the rooftops, who pelted our men with stones and lances. Honestly, I don’t know how I can calmly write all this. Three or four of our men, who had fought in the Italian wars, swore over and over that they had never seen such fierce fighting—neither in wars against the king of France nor against the grand Turk himself. It was difficult even to get back to headquarters, so relentless was the enemy’s assault and the horrible sound of drums, pipes, and trumpets, along with the most obscene and abusive language. We lost another ten or twelve men that day, and none escaped unwounded. We spent the night planning and preparing for the next attack. We decided that after two days, those of us still well would sally out with two moving towers. These we built strong, out of wood, big enough for twenty-five men each to move them along. The towers had loopholes for our heavy guns and room for musketeers and crossbowmen. Strong troops and all our cavalry accompanied the towers, ready to charge the enemy at full speed when needed. Building these towers and repairing the small breaches the enemy had made in our quarters kept us busy the entire day, so we could not move out until the following day.

Meanwhile, the enemy kept up their attacks on our quarters, not just from ten or twelve but from twenty different points at once. Between constructing the towers, fixing breaches, and defending against attackers climbing ladders against our quarters, we were fully occupied. They shouted that we all would be sacrificed to their gods, our hearts torn out, our blood drained, and our arms and legs eaten at their festivals. The rest of our bodies would be thrown to the tigers, lions, and serpents they kept in cages—these animals had been starved for two days to make them hungrier for our flesh. Our gold and other possessions would be their spoil, and they told the Tlascallans they would be locked in the cages where they fattened people for sacrifice. “Just give us our king Motecusuma!” they cried, while their shouts and attacks continued through the entire night.

When daylight came, we commended ourselves to the Almighty and advanced with our war towers. Again we killed many of the enemy; but despite our every effort, we could not make them give way, and if they had fought bravely before, this time they held even firmer, fighting desperately. We resolved, even if it cost all our lives, to push through to the great temple of Huitzilopochtli. I won’t detail here the fierce struggle we had over one particularly fortified house, nor the critical situations faced by our horsemen. Whenever our cavalry charged, their horses were immediately wounded with arrows, stones, and lances; and their riders, despite their bravery, made little impact. If they pressed farther, the Mexicans either jumped into the canals or lake, where cavalry couldn’t follow and a forest of lances awaited us. Trying to set fire to the houses or tear them down was also useless because the buildings stood surrounded by water, connected only by drawbridges. Even when we managed to set a house on fire, it took all day to burn down, and the fire would not spread thanks to the distance and the water around each building—so none of these efforts succeeded. Eventually, we fought our way to the foot of the great temple, but at that moment, more than four thousand defenders rushed up the steps, along with others already on top, all armed with long lances, stones, and arrows. For a long time, our towers and cavalry could make no headway, and our horses could barely stand on the smooth courtyards, often slipping and falling. Even as our cannons mowed down ten or fifteen at a time and our sabres took down many more, their sheer numbers were so large that we could not break through, so we decided to abandon the nearly shattered towers at the foot of the temple and fight our way up the steps.

Here Cortes showed astonishing courage, as he always did. What a bloody and horrific fight it was! The reader should have seen how we were drenched with blood and wounds! Over forty of our men lay dead at our feet; but, with God’s help, we finally made it to the spot where we had placed the image of the Virgin Mary. It was gone, however; as we later learned, Motecusuma, either out of reverence or fear, had taken it away and stored it safely. We now set fire to the Mexican idols, and part of the chapel burned down, with Huitzilopochtli and Tetzcatlipoca. While occupied with this, the battle on the platform raged nonstop; for many priests and over three or four thousand principal Mexicans fiercely attacked us, even driving us back down the steps. Nor were they alone in this—other warriors from the landings and battlements harassed us, so we scarcely knew how to defend ourselves.

We had done everything possible, risking the greatest dangers. Our towers were smashed, we were all wounded, and forty-six of us had been killed. We decided to retreat to our quarters as best we could. But this hardly improved our situation, as the Mexicans now attacked us in even greater mobs from the rear and flanks; it’s impossible to describe the sight if you haven’t seen it yourself. I haven’t even mentioned the many forces attacking our quarters after we went out, nor the trouble for those left behind trying to stop the enemy from burning the place. During the fight, we captured two chief papas, whom Cortes ordered imprisoned.

I have seen pictures among the Mexicans and Tlascallans that show our storming of the great temple. They considered it an act of extraordinary heroism. The pictures include our dead and show the many of us wounded and bleeding. And indeed, it was no small thing—after our towers were destroyed—to fight our way up that great building and set the idols on fire, considering how fiercely it was defended from the platform, landings, and open space below.

Retreating to our quarters was just as dangerous; the crowds we had to cut through were enormous, and a similar crowd waited for us at our headquarters. We barely arrived in time, as the enemy had already breached the walls and many had forced their way inside. Our arrival thankfully stopped their advance for the moment, though the rest of the day and all night they kept up their attacks with lances, stones, and arrows, among terrible screams. Nonetheless, we had to tend the wounded, bury our dead, repair the breaches, and rest before the next day’s fighting. We also held a war council, trying to find a new plan of attack that would avoid such loss of life, but every proposal seemed inadequate. Making matters worse was the bad attitude of Narvaez’s soldiers, who cursed Cortes—and the governor of Cuba—in every way, blaming them for dragging them from comfortable farms to be killed here. These men had lost all sense and ignored everything said to them.

After lengthy debate, we decided to sue the Mexicans for peace and request permission to leave the city. But at daybreak our quarters were once again attacked on all sides by countless enemies. Their wild charges, stubborn will, desperate attacks, and yells were all more terrifying than before—and our cannon and firearms seemed useless against them.

At this perilous moment, Cortes decided that Motecusuma should address the angry mob from the top of the building and ask them to stop the hostilities, as we had decided to leave the city. When Motecusuma was told this in Cortes’ name, he reportedly cried out in grief: “Why does Malinche turn to me now—me, who am tired of life and wishes never to hear his name again? It is he who has dragged me into all this misery!” Motecusuma stubbornly refused to comply with Cortes’ request and added, “I will neither see nor hear anything else about this man. I no longer trust his deceitful words, promises, or lies.”

But Father Olmedo and Oli spoke to him with heartfelt persuasion. “Alas,” said the monarch, “it is now too late. I am convinced the Mexicans, whatever my wishes, will give no truce. They have already crowned another cacique and are fully determined not to let a single one of you leave alive. I believe you will all die in this city.”

In the end, though, Motecusuma was convinced to go with them. Protected by a strong division of our troops, he went to the battlements and called out to the Mexicans with great affection, asking them to stop the fighting, since the teules were about to leave the city. When the Mexican generals saw their king, they ordered their men to stop firing; four of them came forward to speak with him and, with tears in their eyes, addressed him: “Alas! great king, we mourn your misfortune and that of your children and relations. But we must tell you that we have raised one of your cousins to the throne.”

They named the new king: Cuitlahuatzin, lord of Iztapalapan—not Quauhtemoctzin, who did not become king until two months later. “We were forced into the war,” they said, “because we promised our gods, swearing not to stop until all the teules were dead. Every day we begged Huitzilopochtli and Tetzcatlipoca to deliver you from the enemy and swore we would honor you more than before; and we hope you’ll forgive our actions today.”

Some of our men shielded Motecusuma with their weapons as he addressed the crowd, but, since fighting was momentarily halted, they were not so careful. Unfortunately, hostilities resumed instantly, and before anyone could intervene, Motecusuma was hit by an arrow and three sling stones, wounded in the arm, leg, and head, so the unhappy king had to be carried inside. We hurried to treat his wounds and begged him to take some nourishment, but he refused all help, and unexpectedly we soon heard he had died. Cortes, his officers, and all of us shed tears for this unfortunate monarch; many of our men, who had always attended him, grieved for him as if for a father. Even Father Olmedo, who never left his side and despite all his efforts was unable to convert him to Christianity, could not hold back tears. And no one who knew how kind-hearted Motecusuma was will be surprised by this.

He was said to have ruled for seventeen years at the time of his death. Mexico never had a better monarch; regarding his personal courage, he had fought three duels over disputed territory and won every time.

## CHAPTER CXXVII. {.chapter}
*Cortes determines to announce Motecusuma’s death to the Mexican generals and chiefs who are at war with us.*

After much discussion about our critical situation, Cortes decided to send a prominent Mexican and one of the papas we had captured to the cacique Cuitlahuatzin, whom the Mexicans had set up as king, to announce the death of Motecusuma and explain how it happened. They were to confirm that they had witnessed his death and that it was his own people who killed him, and that we deeply mourned the tragedy. We also asked them to take charge of his body and pay the last honors, and to place the crown on that cousin of Motecusuma who was with us and rightfully entitled to it—or select one of his sons, since the new king had no legitimate claim. As for the rest, we declared our willingness to make peace and leave Mexico; they should not miss this chance to settle peacefully, for we had refrained from destroying the city only out of love and respect for the late monarch. If they forced us back to battle, we would burn their city without mercy. With this message, we gave the body of Motecusuma to six other Mexican chiefs and a group of papas we had also captured. All these men had been present when the king died, and they reported faithfully to Cuitlahuatzin every detail—how the Mexicans themselves caused his death with an arrow and three stones from a sling.

As soon as the Mexicans saw their king’s body, they broke out in loud wailing and deep mourning; but still they continued their attack against us, even more fiercely. “Now,” they shouted, “you’ll pay for our king’s death and the insult to our gods! Is it now you beg us for peace? Just come out, and we’ll show you our terms!” They hurled many such taunts at us and proclaimed that they now had a king with a strong heart, who wouldn’t be tricked by our lies like the gentle Motecusuma. “Don’t worry about his burial,” they added, “but think of your own graves, for in two days not one of you will be alive!”

With these threats and furious screams, they tried to set our quarters on fire again from different sides. It was now clear we couldn’t hold out much longer, so in council, we decided to abandon the city and continue the fight on the mainland, where we could destroy their plantations.

During our planned retreat, the cavalry was to lead, breaking through the enemy lines or driving them into the lake, even if it meant sacrificing all our horses. But before we made this move, we resolved to inflict such destruction on the Mexicans that they might let us go in fear of even greater losses. This plan was carried out bravely the next day. We cut down large numbers of the enemy, burned about twenty houses, and almost fought our way to the mainland; but though we suffered heavy losses and paid with over twenty men killed, it wasn’t enough, since we couldn’t capture any bridges—and those that weren’t already half-burnt were fiercely defended. Even the spots where cavalry might have crossed the water were made impassable by stakes the enemy had driven in. Thus, dangers threatened us from everywhere. This last cavalry sortie happened on a Thursday, and included, besides Sandoval, Lares, Dominiguez, Leon, Morla, and other brave officers, many of Narvaez’s horsemen, who, unfamiliar with combat against Indians, showed great fear—unlike us old soldiers under Cortes who knew what such fighting meant.

## CHAPTER CXXVIII. {.chapter}
*How we come to the determination of leaving Mexico secretly at night; and what further happened.*

In this way our strength decreased daily, while the enemy's numbers grew. Several of our men had been killed, and most of us were wounded. Our courage was of no use against such huge crowds who kept up constant attacks both day and night. Our gunpowder was running out, and food and water were starting to fail. Motecusuma was dead, and our attempts at peace were rejected. The enemy had destroyed all the bridges on the causeways we needed to cross to escape. In short, death faced us on every side. It was finally decided, at a council of war, that we would leave the city at night, when the enemy was usually less watchful. To be more certain, we resolved to send one of the chief priests we had captured, along with other prisoners, to the Mexicans the evening before our planned escape, to ask them to let us leave the city quietly within eight days, offering to leave behind all the gold we had.

One of our soldiers, named Botello, greatly influenced this decision. This man was Italian by birth, and known for his honesty and sharp mind. He had been to Rome, and many believed he could raise the dead; some claimed he had a *spiritus familiaris*, and among us he was often called the astrologer.

Four days earlier, Botello had claimed, by means of his secret arts, that he had discovered all of us would die if we didn't leave Mexico on a certain night. He had also prophesied to Cortes that great misfortunes awaited him—he would lose his wealth and honor, but would rise again to prominence and riches. Our men often mentioned similar horoscopes drawn by him.

As we will mention Botello again, I must now explain what preparations were underway for our retreat. The first and most important was the building of a portable bridge made of strong beams. This was to be used to cross the canals where the original bridges had been burned by the enemy. Four hundred Tlascallans, assisted by 150 of our men, were assigned to carry and operate this bridge—setting it in place when needed, removing it after, and repeating this until all of us, with our baggage and cannons, had crossed all the gaps. The transport of our heavy guns was entrusted to 250 Tlascallans and fifty of our men. Sandoval, Lugo, Ordas, and Tapia led the vanguard; they were to clear the streets of the enemy, helped by eight or ten of Narvaez’s officers and 100 of our strongest and most agile soldiers. Cortes himself was to take position, supported by Oli, Avila, Bernardino de Tapia, and other officers with fifty soldiers, around the baggage, our Indian women servants, and the prisoners, to be able to help wherever needed. The rear guard was led by Leon and Alvarado, made up of most of the cavalry, 100 foot soldiers, and most of Narvaez’s men. Doña Marina and Doña Luisa, with the prisoners, were to be guarded by 300 Tlascallans and thirty Spaniards.

After these arrangements were made and night drew near, Cortes ordered his chamberlain Christobal de Guzman to gather all the gold, silver, and valuables in one room. The royal treasurers, Alonso Avila and Gonzalo Mexia, were told to set aside the emperor’s share and load it onto eight of our wounded horses and eighty Tlascallans. Most of the treasure was in broad gold bars, and the horses and men were burdened as heavily as possible.

Cortes then called his private secretary, Pedro Hernandez, and the other royal secretaries, and told them: “Record in writing and bear witness that I have done all I could to save this treasure, which is valued at 700,000 pesos. You see it’s impossible to load any more onto the Indian porters and horses. I will therefore let the soldiers take as much as they can carry, so this treasure doesn’t fall into the hands of these Mexican dogs.”

When Narvaez’s men and many of our older soldiers heard this, they packed away all they could. As for me, gold had never been my weakness; I took four chalchihuis stones out of a small box and hid them under my cuirass. Soon after, Cortes gave this box to his steward for safekeeping, and I believe he would have demanded the four chalchihuis stones back from me if I hadn’t quickly hidden them. This small treasure proved extremely valuable to me later, helping me get my wounds treated and buy food.

With everything in order and our retreat planned, we started to move out. It was around midnight, rather dark, there was a thin mist over the town, and a gentle rain was falling.

As soon as we began our march in the planned order, with the rear guard moving and our portable bridge in place, and Sandoval with his cavalry and Cortes and the rest having crossed, suddenly the wild war music and shouting of the Mexicans burst out. “Up, up, Tlatelulco!” they shouted, “bring out your canoes! The teules are escaping! Cut them off at the bridges!”

Before we could react, we were attacked by immense numbers, and the whole lake was immediately filled with canoes, blocking our advance, although many of our men had already crossed the portable bridge. Now began a desperate struggle for control of the bridge. To make matters worse, two of our horses slipped on the wet planks, panicked, and fell into the lake, causing the bridge itself to tip and fall. A mob of Mexicans instantly attacked, and even though we fought desperately and cut down many, we couldn’t recover the bridge. With those behind pushing forward, the canal quickly filled with dead horses and their riders, who were lost if they couldn’t swim. The pitiless enemy now attacked from all sides. Many Tlascallans and our Indian women servants were seized, along with the baggage and cannons; many of our men drowned, and many more, trying to swim to safety, were captured by canoe. It was heartbreaking to see such misery and hear the cries for help—“Help! I’m drowning!” cried one; “They're killing me!” cried another. Some called on the Virgin Mary; others on Santiago de Compostella. Someone at the edge begged to be pulled out; another crawled over the dead. Many who reached the causeway thought themselves safe, only to run into even bigger crowds of enemies. Does anyone believe that, at this point, any of us still followed the original order of retreat? Only a fool would think of anything but his own life! Cortes and those with him acted the same, dashing across the bridge at full speed, desperate to reach land; our cavalry was useless there. Exposed on all sides to arrows and spears, and even struck by our own swords captured and fixed to enemy lances, it was a miracle when any horse and rider escaped. We could not defend ourselves in the water, for the wet had ruined our muskets and crossbows, and the darkness made every move uncertain. Any effort to regroup was pointless. Even if thirty or forty of us stopped to fight and tried to advance together, none would have survived alive unless, in the end, all looked out for themselves. So went our wretched fate that night; had it been daytime, it would have been worse. Truly, if God had not given us extraordinary strength, every one of us would have been killed! The enemy swarmed us from all sides, and there were so many canoes waiting to take prisoners to be sacrificed to their gods. It was a dreadful sight!

I will never forget how, at one point, about fifty of us gathered together, and the Mexicans, attacking, kept shouting, “O, O, Luilones!”—meaning, “You want to live, do you, you cowards?” Only through heavy blows and fierce fighting did we cut our way through.

At last, as we neared the mainland by Tlacupa, where the vanguard under Sandoval and much of the cavalry and infantry had arrived, we recognized the voices of Oli, Morla, and Sandoval. They called out to Cortes: “Think for a moment, general, we’re here on safe ground, but there are still so many of our men behind at the bridges, who’ll be lost unless we hurry back to help them. Only a few have cut their way through so far, and they’re all covered in wounds.”

Cortes answered sorrowfully, “It’s a miracle anyone has escaped; if we go back to the bridges, we’ll all be lost with our horses.”

Even so, Cortes, Oli, Avila, Sandoval, Morla, and Dominiguez turned back with six or seven cavalry and a few foot soldiers who had escaped unharmed. Not far along, they met Alvarado. He had lost his brown mare, was limping badly wounded with lance in hand, with only seven Spanish soldiers and eight Tlascallans—his whole group dripping with blood.

Cortes and the others then returned, and we regrouped near Tlacupa. But even there, the Mexicans had by now arrived and were rousing the people of this town, Escapuzalco, and Tenayuacan against us.

Here, too, the Mexicans, with our captured swords fixed to their long pikes, pressed hard upon us, and we struggled to hold our ground.

When Cortes reached Alvarado and his few survivors, and learned the fate of those left behind, tears filled his eyes; for Alvarado and Leon had had more than twenty horse and over a hundred foot with them in the rear guard. All these—with nearly all the cavalry and more than 150 others, both old and new troops—had died with Leon. Alvarado explained that after losing their horses, he gathered about eighty men, and with these crossed the first canal by scrambling over baggage, dead men, and horses. I’m not sure if he said he crossed by stepping on the bodies, but I know that here more than 200 men, led by Leon, were cut down despite their bravery. At the second bridge, Alvarado was only saved by God’s mercy, since the canals and streets were packed with enemies.

It was here, too, at this bridge of sorrows, that the famous “leap of Alvarado” is said to have occurred. At the time, none of us paid attention to how he crossed—we were all desperate to escape. But I believe this leap was nothing more than what Alvarado told Cortes: that he made a bridge for himself by scrambling over baggage, dead bodies, and drowned horses. The water there was too deep for him to vault across with a lance, and the span too wide for even Alvarado to leap over. I assure you it was impossible. The next year, when we surrounded Mexico, I often fought at that very spot, now called Alvarado’s Leap, and neither I nor any fellow soldiers believed such a jump possible. The following anecdote shows what people thought at the time.

Among Garay’s men was a certain Ocampo, a witty fellow who loved to write pasquils or lampoons. He wrote much scandal and lies about our officers, and accused Alvarado of abandoning Leon and the rear guard—over 200 men and all the cavalry—and of saving his life by “taking the Alvarado’s leap,” as the old saying goes: Leap and save your life\!

As I’ve said, we had reached Tlacupa, but we were not yet safe. Large numbers of Mexicans, with the men of Tlacupa, Escapuzalco, Tenayuacan, and nearby towns, kept attacking us. But the worst of it was in the cornfields, where we lost three more already wounded men. The smartest thing was to leave this dangerous area as soon as we could. Some Tlascallans knew a back road to Tlascalla and safely guided us to a row of houses on high ground, where we sheltered in a temple built like a fortress. On the whole march, the Mexicans kept harassing us, pelting us with arrows, slings, and spears. Excuse me, reader, if I must describe the same miserable scenes again.

It wasn't until we reached this temple that we could defend ourselves properly. There we lit fires and tended our wounds.

After the conquest of Mexico, we turned this building into a church and dedicated it to Our Lady *de los Remedios.* Over time, the church became famous, and to this day, many people from Mexico—especially women—make pilgrimages there.

Still, we found nothing to eat, and it was distressing to see the miserable rags we used for our wounds, chilled by the cold and made worse thereby. But what pained us most was the loss of our horses and so many brave companions. Among our old troop we lost Leon, Salcedo, Morla, the valiant lancer Lares, and others I don't have space to name. Most of Narvaez’s men died at the bridges, weighed down by gold. The Tlascallans who carried the royal gold met the same end. The astrologer Botello found no protection in his art and perished along with many others. Even Motecusuma’s sons, and other princes we had taken, died in that dreadful night.

Before deciding on our next move, we had to consider our wretched state. All of us were wounded; only twenty-three horses survived; our cannons were all lost, and not a grain of powder was left. Only a few crossbows remained, though arrows could be quickly made. Worse, the enemy harassed us night and day, and we didn’t know where we stood with our Tlascalla allies. Nevertheless, we resolved to keep marching toward their country, setting out at midnight. Our guides and the Tlascallans led the way. The badly wounded, who needed sticks, were in the center; those unable to walk at all were tied to the horses. All able to carry arms were stationed on the flanks, with cavalry among them, and the rest of the horses in the rear. The wounded Tlascallans also marched in the center, while the healthy ones joined us for defense wherever needed, for the Mexicans still followed close behind, yelling and taunting, “Go on! Go on! None of you will escape alive!” At the time, we didn’t know what this meant, but soon found out, as you will see.

I must also mention how glad we were that Doña Marina and Doña Luisa, who had left Mexico with the vanguard, were safe. Sadly, most of our other Indian women, given to us by the Mexicans and Tlascallans, were not so fortunate; nearly all perished at the bridges.

This day’s march took us to a sizable town called Quauhtitlan, once Alonso de Avila’s property. There too, we were met with shouts, stones, and arrows, all of which we endured. We were treated no better in the smaller villages we passed, while more Mexicans gathered behind us. They tried to trap us from every side, sending stones, arrows, and spears our way as we passed through a narrow defile. Two more of our men died—already badly wounded in the last fight—and we lost a horse, with many more wounded. We managed to kill a few enemy, but not many.

That night, we sheltered in a few scattered houses and supped on the slain horse. The next morning, we marched out again, keeping closer together than before, with half our cavalry always ahead. After about four miles on open ground, thinking ourselves safe, three horsemen raced back to warn us that the fields ahead were filled with Mexicans, lying in wait. This was alarming news—but our courage did not falter, and we immediately prepared for battle, determined to fight to the end. We halted, and Cortes ordered the cavalry to charge the enemy in a solid group, aiming for their faces to break their line, while infantry were to aim blows and thrusts at the lower body. In this way, we were told we'd surely avenge our dead and wounded, with God's help.

We commended ourselves to God and the Holy Virgin and charged the enemy, shouting *Santiago! Santiago!* Our cavalry entered five abreast, breaking the line, and we pressed close behind. What a furious battle and remarkable victory it was! We fought man to man, while the enemy fought like furies, killing and wounding many with pikes and great swords.

The level plain was perfect for cavalry, who would rush at full speed into the enemy, then withdraw and wait for new chances. Though both horse and rider were severely wounded, they fought with incredible bravery. It seemed as if our cavalry had double their usual strength; despite many wounds, we never stopped charging. Cortes, Oli, Alvarado (riding a borrowed horse), and Sandoval—though all hurt—were always where the fighting was fiercest. Cortes inspired us with bold words and pointed out the fine booty to be had from the enemy’s rich dress and weapons. But, above all, it was glorious to hear Sandoval cheer us on with, “On, my fellow soldiers! This day we must win! Our trust is in God! We will not die here; God has destined us for greater deeds!”

In this way we kept fighting bravely, with God and the Blessed Virgin strengthening us. St. Santiago de Compostella certainly came to our aid; one of Quauhtemoctzin’s chief officers at the battle later swore he saw him with his own eyes. At this moment, it pleased God to direct Cortes’ gaze to the section of the enemy where the Mexican general-in-chief stood with the royal banner, clad in rich gold armor and wearing a headdress of large white feathers. As soon as Cortes spotted him and his dazzling entourage, he called to Alvarado, Sandoval, Oli, Avila, and other officers: “Follow me, brave comrades—these are the men we must attack!” Scarcely were the words out than they commended themselves to God and spurred forward into the enemy ranks. Cortes leveled his lance and rushed at the Mexican commander, who dropped the standard; our other officers simultaneously cut down the chiefs surrounding him.

The general tried to grab the standard and run, but Juan de Salamanca, a native of Ontiveras, chased him on his fine horse, brought him down, took the standard and feathers from him, and presented both to Cortes, who had led the initial attack. Salamanca was later rewarded for this heroic act; the emperor let him add a feathered crest to his coat of arms, which his descendants still bear.

After the Mexican chief fell and the royal standard was lost, and many enemy were slain, the rest broke and fled. Our cavalry chased them down, punishing them all the way. Now, none of us felt our wounds or hunger or thirst—it seemed as if we were beginning the fight fresh! Our Tlascallan friends also fought like lions, hacking down the enemy with the broad swords they’d captured.

After our cavalry returned from the pursuit, we gave thanks to Almighty God for this victory and our escape from such overwhelming numbers, for the Spaniards had never before in the Indies faced so large an army. It was made up of the best warriors from Mexico, Tezcuco, and Xaltocan, and every Indian entered the battle determined that not a single one of us would survive. From their rich dress and arms, it was clear most were officers and men of rank.

Near the place of this terrible, bloody battle lay the town of Otumpan, and by that name, this battle will be remembered forever. Both Mexicans and Tlascallans have faithfully depicted it in their many paintings of the wars leading up to the conquest.

For the record, I note that we entered Mexico on June 24, 1520, to assist Alvarado, with an army of nearly 1,400 men, including seventy-nine horsemen, eighty crossbowmen, as many musketeers, over 2,000 Tlascallan troops, and a fine artillery. On July 10th we began our retreat, and on the 14th we fought the battle of Otumpan.

I must also state our losses in that time. In five days, including the battle of Otumpan, we lost in killed and captured over 870 men and over 1,200 Tlascallans. To this add 72 men and five Spanish women, all from Narvaez’s division, whom the Mexicans executed at Tustepec. At the same time, the Mexicans murdered old Juan de Alcantara and three others on their way from Vera Cruz to Mexico to collect their share of gold. Thus, not only did these people lose their gold, but their lives as well. Truly, if one considers it, none of us gained any true blessing from the gold the Indians gave us. The reason Narvaez’s men suffered more at the bridges than Cortes’ was that they overloaded themselves with gold, which made swimming impossible and hindered their movements.

After this grand victory, we dined on some gourds we found in the fields and cheerfully continued marching to Tlascalla. We carefully avoided all villages, as our enemies still shot arrows at us from afar and taunted us. Only when night fell did we dare enter a Mexican town, because it had a temple and a large building we could fortify. There we sheltered for the night, tended our wounds, and finally got some rest. The Mexicans had followed us but did not come close, and it seemed they were saying by their faces: “Good riddance, you’ll soon be beyond our borders!” Soon after leaving this spot, the hills near Tlascalla came into view, and we felt as much joy at the sight as if our homeland were there. Yet we didn’t know how those people felt about us now, or if they had remained faithful. We also had no idea what was happening at Vera Cruz, where the enemy might have cut down our garrison.

Our numbers were now just 440 men, twenty horses, twelve crossbows, and seven muskets. All of us were weak and wounded, with no cannon or powder left. We were especially watchful and gave deep thanks to God for having so miraculously saved us. Cortes remarked that our numbers were now as few as when we first sailed from Cuba and entered Mexico City. He advised us to be especially careful not to give the Tlascallans any reason for complaint—directed especially at Narvaez’s men, who were less disciplined than we were. For the rest, Cortes said, he hoped God would grant that the Tlascallans would be as loyal as before. But even if they had turned against us, we were not to lose heart, but trust in our own strength, which had already overcome so many foes.

We now continued our march, taking all necessary military precautions, and arrived at a fountain on the slope of a hill, near the ruins and enclosures of ancient temples. The Tlascallans told us that these marked the boundary between their territory and the Mexican empire. Feeling safer here, we washed ourselves and ate a little food. After properly resting from our exhaustion, we marched on and reached a township called Gualiopar, within Tlascallan territory, where the inhabitants allowed us to stay and provided food—but we had to give them small pieces of gold or chalchihuis in exchange. We spent an entire day here tending to our wounds and those of our horses.

When news of our arrival reached Tlascalla’s capital, Maxixcatzin, the elder Xicotencatl, and Chichimeclatecl, along with other prominent residents of that city and of Huexotzinco, immediately set out to greet us. They welcomed us warmly, and several chiefs openly wept. “Alas! Malinche, Malinche,” they cried, “we grieve deeply for your misfortune and mourn the deaths of so many of your brothers and our people who perished with them! How often did we warn you not to trust the Mexicans, telling you they would eventually attack, but you would not believe us. What’s done is done, but for now, focus on healing your wounds and regaining your strength with food. Make yourselves at home here, rest, and then come to our city, where we will arrange your lodgings. Rest assured, Malinche, it is a great feat of heroism that you fought your way out of that strong city after the bridges were destroyed; if we already considered you courageous, we do so now even more. We know many of our people must mourn the loss of their sons, husbands, and brothers, but let that not grieve you too deeply. Be grateful as well to your gods who brought you here safely and gave you the power to defeat that enormous army lying in wait for you at Otumpan. We had intended to come to your aid with 30,000 men, but could not assemble them in time.”

Cortes, along with all the officers and soldiers, embraced our generous hosts in the warmest manner, and we offered them gifts of gold and jewels, to which every one of us gladly contributed. They were overjoyed to find that Doña Marina and Doña Luisa had survived, but their happiness turned to sorrow when they learned how many of their people were missing. Maxixcatzin grieved especially at the loss of his daughter, Doña Elvira, and Leon, to whom he had given her.

We then marched with all the caziques into the Tlascalla capital. Cortes was quartered in Maxixcatzin's house, and Alvarado in Xicotencatl's. We cared for our wounds and waited patiently to recover; four of our men died soon after, and many others took a long time to fully heal.

## CHAPTER CXXIX. {.chapter}
*How we quartered ourselves in the metropolis of Tlascalla, and what we did there.*

As I mentioned, we rested a day at Gualiopar, where the caziques of Tlascalla visited us and generously offered every assistance, which was especially praiseworthy given the circumstances and timing.

Once we had arrived in Tlascalla’s capital, Cortes inquired about the 40,000 pesos worth of gold he had sent ahead for the garrison at Vera Cruz. Maxixcatzin, Xicotencatl, and one of our soldiers who had stayed behind due to illness informed him that a certain Juan de Alcantara and two others from the Vera Cruz garrison had come and taken all the gold, showing a written order from Cortes, which Maxixcatzin had carefully kept. Upon questioning when they had left with the gold, we realized it must have been during our intense fighting with the Mexicans. Later, we learned that Alcantara and his companions had been murdered and robbed on their way to Vera Cruz. Cortes was deeply troubled by this loss and was anxious about the situation in the city. He sent three Tlascallans to Vera Cruz with a letter giving a full account of what had happened in Mexico, but carefully omitting the number of men we had lost. He urged the garrison there to be on high alert and to keep Salvatierra and Narvaez in strict captivity. He also told them to send all their sick to Tlascalla, along with all remaining powder and crossbows. In a letter to Caballero, he warned him not to let any ships leave for Cuba, to closely watch Narvaez, and, if he considered Narvaez’s two vessels in the harbor unfit, to scuttle them and send the sailors and as many weapons as possible to us at once.

The three messengers made haste and soon returned with news from Vera Cruz, reporting that all had been peaceful there, but they had heard about our misfortune in Mexico from the fat cazique of Sempoalla. They also confirmed that Juan de Alcantara and his companions had been murdered on their journey back.

Pedro Caballero replied that all of Cortes’s commands would be carried out. One of the two vessels was still seaworthy, and with the other he would follow orders and send the men to us, though his available crew was insufficient, as many sailors were ill or had died.

The reinforcements we received consisted only of seven men, three of whom were sailors. Led by a certain Lencero—whose tavern is still known as Venta de Lencero—all these men were in poor health; five had large sores, and the other two hobbled about with badly swollen bellies. The reinforcements brought by Lencero became a standing joke among us.

But now I must relate something more serious. The reader may recall the younger Xicotencatl, who previously led the Tlascallan forces against us and had always shown us hostility. This attitude returned when word came of our retreat from Mexico and our losses, as we approached Tlascalla seeking refuge. The younger Xicotencatl gathered his friends and supporters, proposing that they wait for an opportunity to surprise us—by day or night—and destroy us completely. “He would,” he said, “form an alliance with the Mexican monarch, which was now especially timely since the Mexicans had just chosen Cuitlahuatzin as their new ruler. We had left quantities of cotton and gold in Tlascalla— and brought even more—making them all rich if they seized our loot.”

When the elder Xicotencatl heard of this plot, he became furious and ordered his son to abandon such thinking. Such an action, he said, would be unforgivable, and Maxixcatzin and Chichimeclatecl would surely have him executed—which he himself would support. However, regardless of his father’s words, the younger Xicotencatl persisted with his plans, and began to prepare in earnest, until Chichimeclatecl—his rival—found out and secretly informed Maxixcatzin. The two decided to call a meeting of all the senior leaders, including the elder Xicotencatl and the caziques of Huexotzinco, and summoned the younger Xicotencatl to attend.

When all had assembled, Maxixcatzin addressed the gathering: “Do you think, or have you heard, that our region has ever known such wealth or prosperity in the last hundred years as since these teules arrived? Were we ever so respected by neighbors? Only since their arrival do we have gold and cotton in abundance; only since then have we been able to eat salt again, which we lacked for so long. Wherever our troops have gone with the teules, they have been highly respected, and if many of our countrymen died in Mexico, they fared no worse than the teules themselves. Remember the ancient tradition from our ancestors that a people would someday come from where the sun rises to rule these lands. Given all this, how can Xicotencatl contemplate such betrayal, which would only bring war and ruin? Is this not a crime that should never be pardoned? Is this not just more evidence of his troubling ambitions? Now that adversity has led these teules to seek our help against Mexico, are we to betray these friends?”

Joining in these reproaches, the elder Xicotencatl also scolded his son. The younger Xicotencatl replied stubbornly that it was, in his view, most prudent to ally with the Mexicans under current circumstances; he made other insolent remarks that so infuriated the old chiefs that Maxixcatzin, Chichimeclatecl, and the elder Xicotencatl—despite his blindness—all stood up, assaulted the young man, and pushed him down the steps of the building, shouting abuse. He would have been killed, if not for deference to his aged father. Meanwhile, all his supporters were imprisoned. But punishing the young Xicotencatl himself was not the right time, and Cortes refused to get involved. I recount this to show the reader how loyal and honest the Tlascallans were to us, and how much we owed them—especially the elder Xicotencatl, who, it’s said, ordered his son executed once he learned all the details of his treachery.

We had now rested for twenty-two days, waiting patiently for our wounds to heal, and Cortes decided to launch an expedition against the neighboring province of Tepeaca, where some of Narvaez’s men and ours had been killed en route to Mexico. He informed our officers of his plan, but Narvaez’s men grew despondent at the mention of a new campaign. They were not used to warfare and had already experienced enough in the disaster at Mexico, the carnage at the bridges, and the battle of Otumpan. They loudly insisted to the general that they wished to return to their holdings and gold mines in Cuba. They refused to obey and said they would not participate in any more conquests; even Duero, who had been working secretly with Cortes from the beginning, protested loudly against the expedition to Tepeaca. They cursed the gold Cortes had given them, saying it was all lost during the flight from Mexico, and that they were lucky to have escaped with their lives from that deadly battle. They were determined to return to Cuba and said they had no wish to suffer more losses than they already had in this venture.

Cortes, however, did not give up on persuading them to join the campaign. He spoke calmly and reasonably, but it did no good. When he remained firm, they had one of the royal secretaries draft a formal protest, detailing our needy situation: lacking horses, muskets, crossbows, and even cords for them. Nearly everything required for war was missing. They stated that we were all wounded, only 440 men remained from the combined forces of Narvaez and Cortes, the Mexicans controlled all the passes and mountains, and the ships would rot in the harbor if left any longer, and so on.

After delivering this formal protest to Cortes, he firmly refused it, and we, his original followers, implored him not to allow Narvaez’s men to return to Cuba, as it would damage both God’s cause and our emperor’s interests.

When they realized their efforts failed and we insisted they were obliged to stay for the service of God and of our emperor, they eventually agreed to join the campaign—though Cortes had to promise he would let them go to Cuba as soon as it was possible. Even so, their complaints continued. They grumbled against Cortes and his conquests, lamenting the price they had paid, leaving comfortable homes and safety only to live under constant threat. They also said that starting another campaign against the Mexicans would be reckless, as we would never be able to stand against such numbers in open field, after what we had seen of their power in Mexico and at Otumpan. They accused Cortes of pursuing only his own ambition, and said we followed him only because we had nothing left to lose but our lives. They hurled many such reproaches at Cortes, who decided it was best to ignore them under the circumstances, and a few months later he was glad to send them home, as will be narrated in its place.

At this point, I must correct several inaccuracies in Gomara’s history; but to avoid too much detail, I’ll limit myself to these remarks.

Regarding the protest against the Tepeaca campaign, Gomara is vague about which side proposed it—Cortes’s old soldiers or those of Narvaez. Everything in his account seems designed to glorify Cortes alone and to slight the rest of us. We, the actual conquistadors, quickly realized how heavily Gomara’s account was influenced by gifts he received. Were we not the ones who stood by Cortes in every battle and in all things? Yet Gomara shamelessly claims we protested against further conquests in New Spain. He even makes a serious error by having Cortes, in response to the protest, say he would recall Leon and Ordas, claiming one was founding a town with 300 men in Panuco and the other similarly in Guacasualco. None of this is true; when we marched to help Alvarado in Mexico, both these planned settlements were abandoned, as I already explained, and both officers went with us to Mexico. Leon was actually killed at one of the bridges, and Ordas was badly wounded in three places. It’s a shame Gomara doesn’t write with as much truth as style!

I was also astonished by what Gomara says of Otumpan. He boldly insists we would have been defeated if Cortes hadn't been present, as he alone determined the outcome by attacking the Mexican commander who bore the royal standard. While I respect Cortes as an excellent and brave general, and praise him highly, the truth is, above all, we owe our survival to the Almighty, who mercifully protected us in so many dangers and gave Cortes such brave men to lead. Credit after that belongs to us, who resisted the enemy, broke their lines, and faithfully obeyed our leaders. Yet Gomara would have it that Cortes did everything alone at Otumpan! Why does he never mention the heroic deeds of the officers and soldiers in that crucial battle? Clearly, everything in his book is written to praise only Cortes, or else he would not leave the rest of us unmentioned. He should have recognized how often Christobal de Olea saved Cortes’s life, until he himself died in a similar rescue attempt during the later siege of Mexico.

I almost forgot to mention the battle at Sochimilco, when Olea again saved Cortes’s life at great risk to his own, suffering severe wounds.

For clarity, we had among our troops a Christobal de Olea and a Christobal de Oli.

Gomara is correct that Cortes charged at the Mexican commander, causing him to drop the standard; but it is equally true that Juan Salamanca of Ontiveras, later alcalde mayor of Guacasualco after Mexico fell, killed that chief with a lance thrust, tore off the fine feathered crest from his head, and presented it to Cortes. For this, Salamanca was later allowed to add a bunch of feathers to his coat of arms.

I do not point out these matters to diminish Cortes’s glory; he deserves the credit and honors the Castilians awarded their victorious generals, comparable to those the Romans bestowed on Pompey, Julius Caesar, and the Scipios. In truth, Cortes has earned even greater recognition!

Gomara further claims Cortes secretly ordered the younger Xicotencatl’s execution in Tlascalla for his treachery, but this is false; Cortes had him hanged in a village near Tezcuco, as will be told later.

Gomara also writes of vast numbers of Indian allies in battle—numbers that defy sense. He greatly exaggerates the counts of cities, towns, and villages (not a fifth part truly existed), and if one adds up his population figures, he claims more millions than there are towns in Spain. Whenever he writes “80,000,” we should read “1,000.” Everything in his book sounds impressive because he never recounts the full story. So, when the reader compares his account with mine, do not be dazzled by his elegant prose; mine may be plain and rough, but truth stands in place of art and eloquence. How unfortunate that Dr. Illescas and Paul Jovio copied him so closely!

Now I must return to my account of the campaign against Tepeaca.

## CHAPTER CXXX. {.chapter}
*How we marched into the province of Tepeaca, what we did there, and other events that happened.*

Cortes had asked the caziques of Tlascalla to provide him with 5,000 men to join him on his march into the province of Tepeaca, whose inhabitants he intended to punish for murdering several Spaniards. It was the townships of Tepeaca, Quauhquechola, and Tecalco, located twenty-four to twenty-eight miles from Tlascalla, that we specifically targeted. If our desire for revenge was strong, that of Maxixcatzin and the elder Xicotencatl was even greater, as the people of those places had severely damaged their plantations; four thousand Tlascallan warriors were therefore ready and equipped to join us. However, all the provinces we planned to invade were fully prepared to defend themselves; for when the inhabitants learned that we had been kindly received in Tlascalla after our defeat in Mexico, they did not doubt that, once we had recovered our strength, we would invade their territories together with the armed forces of the republic. Mexican troops were thus stationed everywhere on the borders, and Tepeaca itself was heavily garrisoned. Maxixcatzin and the elder Xicotencatl were aware of this and, as a result, were not without fear. Despite all this, we began our march there without either cannon or matchlocks, for we had lost all of these in our escape from Mexico. Though we had saved a few matchlocks, we could not use them as we had no gunpowder left.

Our small army now consisted of seventeen horsemen, six crossbowmen, and 420 Spaniards, most of whom were only armed with swords and shields, and 4,000 Tlascallans. We took only a day’s provisions with us, as the provinces we were invading were very populous, with plenty of maize, fowl, and musk swine. We followed our usual good custom of sending scouts ahead and camped for the first night about twelve miles from Tepeaca. The inhabitants, hearing of our approach, had fled everywhere and taken everything they could, so we found only six men and four women in a small village near Tepeaca. Cortes, who always maintained strict justice and order, questioned these prisoners about the eighteen Spaniards who had been killed without cause, why such large numbers of Mexican troops were there, and why their people had destroyed the property of our allies, the Tlascallans.

He then sent these prisoners to Tepeaca to ask the inhabitants the same questions, telling them they should send away the Mexicans present and make a treaty with us; otherwise, we would consider them rebels, murderers, and thieves, devastate their lands with fire and sword, and take all the inhabitants as slaves.

These prisoners carried out their task faithfully, and returned with two Mexicans. If we had sent a bold message, their reply was even bolder. The two Mexicans came with complete confidence, knowing it was our custom to treat all ambassadors with great courtesy and offer them gifts. They were not wrong in this, and, still emboldened by their recent victory, they spoke with great confidence. After they spoke, Cortes gave each a mantle and sent them back with offers of peace, adding that he knew they could not return his Spaniards alive, but if they would ask for peace, he would forgive the past. He also sent a letter with these offers, even though we knew they could not read it, but by now they understood it was some command, and Cortes asked the ambassadors to return with a response. They soon returned with an answer: “We were to go back where we came from, and if we refused to leave immediately, they would attack us the next day and make a greater feast from our flesh than they had at the bridges of Mexico and in the battle of Otumpan.”

On receiving this reply, Cortes called a council of war, where all these circumstances were recorded by a royal secretary, and it was decided that any allies of the Mexicans who had been found guilty of murdering Spaniards would be made slaves, since, after swearing allegiance to his majesty, they had rebelled and caused us great losses in men and horses. This decision was also communicated to the enemy, and they were again urged to make peace with us; but again we received only defiance, and a threat that if we did not leave the province, they would attack and destroy us all. Both sides prepared for war, and a fierce battle took place the next day; but since the level fields, covered with maize and maguey plantations, were perfect for our maneuvers, the bravery of our enemies did little for them, and our few horsemen soon routed them. We also attacked vigorously, and our Tlascallan allies fought bravely, pursuing the enemy to great loss. Many Tepeacans and Mexicans were killed, while on our side we lost only three Tlascallans. Twelve Spaniards were slightly wounded, and one of our horses wounded so badly it died soon after. As a result of this victory, numerous women and children were taken prisoner—for the men, we turned them over to the Tlascallans, who made slaves of them all.

The Tepeacans, seeing that the Mexican garrison could not protect them and further opposition would only bring more suffering, sent messengers of peace to us without even consulting the Mexicans. Cortes received them kindly; these Tepeacans then, for the second time, swore allegiance to our emperor and sent away the Mexicans.

We then entered Tepeaca and founded a town there, naming it Villa de Segura de la Frontera, because it lay on the road to Vera Cruz in a populous district rich in maize, and because it was close to Tlascalla for protection. Alcaldes and regidors were appointed and a proper government established.

We also visited all the districts where Spaniards had been murdered and created an iron brand, with the letter G, for *guerra* (war), to mark those we made slaves. We visited the towns of Quauhquechola, Tecalco, Las Guayavas, and others whose names I forget. In the first of these alone, fifteen Spaniards had been killed in their quarters; so we spared this place least of all, enslaving many of its people.

At this time, another king was raised to the throne of Mexico, for the previous one—who had driven us from the city—had died of smallpox. The new monarch was a nephew, or at least a close relative, of Motecusuma, named Quauhtemoctzin. He was about twenty-five, a very well-bred man for an Indian, with great courage, and soon made himself so feared among his people that they trembled before him. His wife was one of Motecusuma’s daughters and considered a great beauty among her people.

When the new king learned of the defeat at Tepeaca and Tepeaca’s submission to Emperor Charles the Fifth, he began to fear for his other provinces. He sent messengers to every town commanding the inhabitants to be ready for action; to ensure obedience, he sent gifts to some caziques and excused others from paying tribute. His best generals were sent with troops to protect the borders, and he admonished them to perform better than at Tepeaca.

So readers aren’t confused by the names, I must mention that there was a Cachula and Guacachula. I must, however, delay what I have to say about the last place, to relate the news we received from Vera Cruz.

## CHAPTER CXXXI. {.chapter}
*How a vessel, sent by Diego Velasquez from Cuba, arrived at Vera Cruz under captain Pedro Barba, and how Caballero captured it.*

We had hardly punished the Tepeacans for the murder of our eighteen comrades and restored peace when letters arrived from Vera Cruz, telling us that a vessel had docked there, commanded by a good friend of Cortes named Pedro Barba, former sub-governor of Havana under Velasquez. He had brought thirteen soldiers and two horses, along with letters for Pamfilo Narvaez, whom Velasquez believed had by this time taken New Spain in his name. In these letters, Velasquez instructed Narvaez, if Cortes was still alive, to send him, along with his principal officers, to Cuba, whence Velasquez would send them to Spain, as ordered by Don Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca, bishop of Burgos and archbishop of Rosano, president of the council of the Indies.

As soon as Barba anchored, Caballero went aboard to greet him. The boat was well manned with sailors, and their weapons were carefully hidden.

After greetings, Caballero asked after the health of the Cuban governor, while Barba inquired about Narvaez and what had become of Cortes. Caballero gave a very favorable report on Narvaez, speaking of his authority, wealth, and power in these lands; as for Cortes, he said he had escaped with twenty men and was wandering from place to place.

Next, Caballero suggested Barba disembark at the next township, where he would find excellent lodgings. Barba agreed and boarded Caballero’s boat, now joined by those of the other ships, and so all went ashore. As soon as Barba set foot on land, Caballero declared, “Sir, you are my prisoner, in the name of the captain-general Cortes!” One can imagine Barba and his men’s surprise, but they had no choice but to submit. The ship’s sails, compass, and rudder were immediately taken and sent to Cortes’ headquarters at Tepeaca.

Our joy at this unexpected help was immense, and it could not have come at a better time, for we were not yet healed from our wounds, nor fully recovered. All of us were somewhat ill, and blood and dust were so clotted in our bodies that we passed nothing else. On top of this, we had to remain under arms day and night, so our situation was truly miserable; and five of our men had died in the last two weeks of pleurisy.

Along with Barba came a certain Francisco Lopez, who settled in Guatemala and became a regidor there.

Cortes received Pedro Barba with every honor and immediately gave him command of a crossbowman company. From him he also learned that another smaller vessel was in Cuba, being loaded with supplies and also destined for New Spain by the governor. This ship arrived at Vera Cruz eight days later, commanded by Rodrigo Morejon, and carried eight soldiers, a mare, six crossbows, and more ammunition. Morejon and his ship were captured by Caballero in the same way and sent to Segura de la Frontera. Our joy at the arrival of these new arrivals, if possible, surpassed that of the first. Cortes received them kindly, gave each an appointment, and we thanked God sincerely for this reinforcement of men, arms, and horses.

Now, however, we must return to the Mexican troops located near Quauhquechola.

## CHAPTER CXXXII. {.chapter}
*How the inhabitants of Quauhquechola called on Cortes, asking him to expel the Mexican troops from their town, as they were being plundered and mistreated.*

The new king of Mexico had placed strong garrisons in all the towns on the borders, especially in Quauhquechola and Ozucar, about twelve miles apart, since he was certain we would enter his lands at those points. These garrisons abused their power under their new ruler and committed so many atrocities against the locals that the people could bear it no longer. They complained not only of being robbed of their clothes, maize, fowl, and gold, but also of the Mexicans forcibly taking their daughters and wives—if they were pretty—and violating them in front of their parents and husbands.

When the Quauhquechollans saw how peacefully the Cholullans lived since losing the Mexican garrison, and that the same happiness and safety could be found in Tepeaca, Tecalco, and Quauhquechola, they secretly sent four prominent men to Cortes, begging him to send his *teules* and cavalry to rid them of their oppressors. The people of the district would help us, and together we could easily defeat the Mexicans. On this appeal, Cortes resolved to send a strong force under Oli, consisting of 300 men, most of our cavalry and crossbowmen, plus a large contingent of Tlascallans—whose numbers had increased since their success in Tepeaca.

Among the 300 Spaniards, many of Narvaez’s men became quite afraid when they realized they were going to fight Indians. They had been told that every field and house was filled with Mexican soldiers, that there were even more of them than at the battle of Otumpan, and that Quauhtemoctzin was in command himself. From the start, they had been reluctant to join this campaign, wanting only to return to Cuba. Now, all their previous misfortunes and dangers came vividly to mind: the desperate escape from Mexico, the fierce fighting at the bridges, and the battle of Otumpan. They said they would not take such risks again, and pleaded with Oli to go back, warning that this expedition was doomed, and every one of them would perish. Oli tried to reason with them, saying they were well matched to the Mexicans, that retreat would encourage the enemy, and that the level country was especially suited for cavalry maneuvers; but they absolutely refused to go further. Cortes’ old soldiers were determined to press on, saying they had faced worse dangers, and that Providence had always protected and given them victory. Still, all arguments failed, and Narvaez’s men finally convinced Oli to turn back with their pleading and complaints; so he went towards Cholulla and wrote to Cortes describing the situation.

When Cortes received the news, he was greatly annoyed. He immediately sent two crossbowmen with a letter to Oli expressing his surprise at this indecision and weakness, as in the past no words had prevented Oli from carrying out orders once given.

After reading the letter, Oli became furious and bitterly scolded those who had urged him to retreat and disobey his general’s orders. He declared that anyone refusing to join him would be sent back to headquarters to be punished by Cortes as cowards and deserters.

The frustration from all this turned Oli into a very lion, and with this energy he led his men towards Quauhquechola. Only four miles from the town, he was met by the caziques, who showed him the best way to attack the Mexicans and pledged their help. They had barely finished speaking when the Mexicans, having heard of Oli’s approach, marched out boldly to meet him. The battle soon began, and the Mexicans indeed fought bravely for a time, wounding several Spaniards, killing two horses, and injuring eight more from a type of fort they had built; but after about an hour’s fighting, they were completely routed. The Tlascallans were exceptionally brave, killing many enemies and taking many prisoners; with support from the local inhabitants, the massacre among the Mexicans was great. The surviving Mexicans retreated to a fortified town called Ozucar, which was also defended by another body of Mexicans. The place was naturally strong, and the enemy had burned a bridge to keep our cavalry out. But, as I’ve said before, Oli’s anger made him unstoppable, and nothing would hold him back. He advanced on Ozucar with all who would follow, crossed the river alongside his new Quauhquechola allies, and attacked the Mexicans so fiercely that they soon broke and fled. Again, two horses were killed, Oli was wounded in two places, and his horse severely injured.

Oli stayed two days in Ozucar, during which the caziques from the neighboring regions came to seek peace, offering themselves as vassals to our emperor. After restoring order to the area, he returned to Villa Segura.

I myself was not present at this battle, so I simply relate what I learned from others. Cortes and all of us went out to meet the victors, and as you can imagine, the celebrations were great. The retreat to Cholulla became a matter of jest. Oli himself could only laugh, saying that many of his troops thought more of their mines in Cuba than their weapons, and he swore never again to command the wealthy followers of Narvaez on such missions, but only to take a few of Cortes’ poor soldiers.

On this matter, Gomara claims Oli turned back due to a misunderstanding between interpreters and feared possible treachery. This is incorrect; the retreat was solely due to the fears and anxieties of Narvaez’s men, who had been frightened by all sorts of wild tales from the Indians.

Gomara also says Cortes himself commanded this expedition, which is false—it was Oli. He is also wrong to claim it was the Huexotzincans who frightened Narvaez’s men with exaggerated stories about the Mexicans when they passed through their town. This is completely mistaken, for it would make as much sense to go from Tepeaca to Quauhquechola by way of Huexotzinco as it would be to travel from Medina del Campo to Salamanca by going through Valladolid. In the meantime, other news arrived from Vera Cruz, which will appear in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER CXXXIII. {.chapter}
*How one of the vessels which Francisco de Garay had fitted out to establish settlements on the river Panuco put in at Vera Cruz, and what further happened.*

While we were stationed at Villa Segura, Cortés received a letter informing him that one of the vessels Garay had outfitted to settle on the river Panuco had arrived at Vera Cruz. This ship was commanded by a certain Comargo and carried over sixty soldiers, though all of them were in poor health and suffering from severely swollen stomachs.

Comargo recounted how sadly Garay’s expedition to the river Panuco had ended. The Indians had massacred the commander-in-chief, Alvarez Pinedo, along with all his troops and horses, and then burned his vessels. Only Comargo had managed to escape with his men aboard one of the ships, and they made their way to Vera Cruz, arriving half-starved, as they had been unable to get any food from the enemy. It was also said that Comargo had taken vows in the Dominican order.

Comargo and his men slowly made their way to Villa Segura, which took considerable time given how weakened they were—they could barely move. When Cortés saw their miserable condition, he entrusted them to our care and showed Comargo and all his men every kindness possible. If I remember correctly, Comargo died soon after, along with several of his men. We jokingly called them *verdigris bellies* because of their hugely swollen abdomens and deathly appearance.

To avoid interrupting my story too often, I’ll now list the other vessels from Garay’s expedition that arrived one by one in Vera Cruz.

The next ship to arrive after Comargo’s was commanded by a man from Aragon, named Miguel Diaz, whom Garay had sent with reinforcements to Alvarez Pinedo, thinking he had made it up the river Panuco. However, Diaz found no trace of him and soon ran into conflict with the natives, from whom he learned about the disastrous end of the expedition. He then sailed on to Vera Cruz, landing his troops—over fifty men and seven horses—and made his way immediately to Cortés’ headquarters. These reinforcements were the most valuable we ever received, and their timing could not have been better.

Later, Miguel Diaz rendered our emperor outstanding service during the conquest of New Spain. For a time, he was involved in a lawsuit over half of Mistitan with Cortés’ brother-in-law, Andreas de Barrios of Seville, commonly called the dancer. This lawsuit concluded in Diaz’s favor so that he received all the yearly rents from that estate, over 2,500 pesos a year, but he was forbidden to enter that district for two years because, in that and other towns he owned, he had put several Indians to death.

A few days after this ship, another arrived at Vera Cruz, also sent by Garay to protect his forces on the Panuco, still under the impression that all was going well. This vessel brought over forty men, ten horses, and various munitions. It was commanded by an older man named Ramirez, whom we called “the elder” to distinguish him from another Ramirez in our ranks. In this way Garay lost ship after ship, and the only ones to benefit were Cortés and ourselves. These troops gradually joined us in Tepeaca and each group received a nickname from our men. Diaz’s group, all big stout fellows, were called the *stiff-backs*, and Ramirez’s men were called *pack-saddles* because they wore heavy cotton cuirasses that arrows could not pierce. The officers, as you can imagine, were treated with great distinction by Cortés.

Now, I must turn to another expedition that Cortés ordered, placing Sandoval in command to march against the tribes of Xalatzinco and Zacatemi.

## CHAPTER CXXXIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortés sends Sandoval with 200 men, including twenty horsemen and twelve crossbow-men, to punish the tribes of Xalatzinco and Zacatemi for killing some Spaniards, to demand restitution of stolen gold, and further to explore the country.*

After these reinforcements arrived—first twenty-five men and three horses in the two small ships sent by Diego Velasquez, then 120 men and seventeen horses in Garay’s ships—we learned that many of Narvaez’s men, retreating from Mexico, had been killed in the towns of Zacatemi and Xalatzinco. Further, the residents of those places had robbed and killed Juan de Alcantara and his two companions, who were returning from Tlascala with the aforementioned gold. Cortés therefore ordered Sandoval, a notably brave and capable officer, to march against them with 200 men, mostly Cortés’ veteran soldiers, including twenty horsemen and twelve crossbow-men, supported by a large force of Tlascallans.

On the way, Sandoval was informed that the inhabitants were armed and had fortified the towns, assisted by a strong force of Mexicans. They knew well that they would be punished for killing Spaniards, as had happened to the Tepeacans, Quauhquechollans, and Tecalcans.

Sandoval positioned his troops to the best advantage and explained to the cavalry how to break through the enemy’s lines. Before entering enemy territory, he sent messengers to offer peace and demand the return of stolen gold, promising a pardon for killing the Spaniards if they complied. Several attempts were made, but each time the answer was the same: they would treat Sandoval and his men as they had the other Spaniards whose deaths he was now questioning. Sandoval replied that he would treat them as traitors and highwaymen and make them all slaves, so they might prepare for a life-and-death fight. He then attacked from two directions at once. Though both the Mexicans and the locals fought bravely, he soon routed them, capturing many of the common people, whom he released for lack of men to guard them. In one of the temples he found clothes, weapons, and horse gear, including two saddles—all brought by the Indians as offerings to their idols.

Sandoval stayed there three days, during which the local chiefs came begging for pardon and to take the oath of allegiance to His Majesty. He told them he could not grant this until the stolen gold was returned. The chiefs said the Mexicans had taken all the gold away and given it to their new king. Sandoval sent them to Cortés and marched back to headquarters with many women and young men he had taken captive and branded.

Cortés was delighted to see the troops return in good condition, even though three horses had been killed and eight men badly wounded, including Sandoval himself, who was struck by an arrow. I was not present on this expedition, as I was very ill at the time with fever and coughing blood, but thank God, I recovered after frequent bleeding.

The chiefs of Xalatzinco and Zacatemi, along with several others from nearby areas, now came to Cortés; they pleaded for peace, took the oath of allegiance to our emperor, and supplied us with provisions.

This expedition produced many benefits—it calmed the whole region and greatly increased the reputation of Cortés’ justice and bravery throughout New Spain. Everyone feared him, especially Quauhtemoctzin, the new king of Mexico. Indeed, Cortés’ authority became so great that people came from even the most distant areas to settle disputes before him—regarding election of chiefs, land rights, property, and subjects. Around this time, thousands died of smallpox, including many chiefs, and Cortés, acting as if he were lord of the whole country, appointed new chiefs, always selecting those with the best claims.

A case in point involved a relative of Motecusuma who was married to the ruler of Itztucan and had a son by her, acknowledged as Motecusuma’s nephew. There was a dispute as to whether this nephew or another nobleman was the rightful heir to the principality. Cortés decided in favor of Motecusuma’s nephew, and they followed his judgment. Many similar cases were brought to Cortés for arbitration, even from the farthest districts.

Around this time, we also heard that nine of our men had been killed in Cocotlan, which we called Castel Blanco, about twenty-four miles from headquarters. Sandoval was sent there with thirty horsemen, a hundred foot soldiers, eight crossbow-men, five musketeers, and many Tlascallans, who always proved loyal and courageous. Again, Sandoval sent five notable men from Tepeaca to the Cocotlans with offers of peace and threats; but since a large Mexican garrison was in the town, they replied that they already had a king—Quauhtemoctzin—and needed no other. Nor did they see any reason to send us ambassadors. They were ready to meet us on the field of battle; they were as strong as they had been in Mexico, at the bridges and canals, and had seen the results of our bravery there well enough.

On receiving this reply, Sandoval organized the attack, including specific orders for the Tlascallans: they were not to charge the enemy at the same time as the Spaniards, to avoid spooking our horses and exposing themselves to musket fire, which had happened many times before. They were told to hold their ground until the enemy was routed, then pursue them.

With these plans set, Sandoval marched toward the town. Soon he encountered two groups of enemies who had taken up a defensive position in a hollow behind a barricade of felled trees. For a while, the enemy fought desperately, but the steady fire from our crossbows and muskets allowed Sandoval to force a passage with the cavalry. In this attack, four of his men and nine horses were wounded, one horse dying soon after. Despite many loose stones hampering the cavalry, Sandoval broke through the lines and advanced to the town itself, where there was a large fortified building and several temples with more defenders. After a moment of fierce resistance, the Indians were once again defeated, with seven killed. The Tlascallans, this time not waiting for the signal, charged ahead, especially since this region neighbored their own territory. Many women and lower-class people were taken prisoner.

After this victory, Sandoval stayed two days and sent a Tepeacan chief to summon the district’s lords. They soon arrived, begged forgiveness for killing the Spaniards, and were told they would be forgiven if they handed over all the property taken from those they had killed. They said this was impossible, as everything had been burned, but admitted they had eaten most of the Spaniards themselves and had sent five alive to Quauhtemoctzin in Mexico. They felt their punishments in this battle were sufficient and promised to provide us with good provisions, also sending a large supply to Malinche’s headquarters. Sandoval, realizing nothing more could be obtained, granted forgiveness. They showed much gratitude and promised future service. Sandoval then marched his troops back to Tepeaca, where they were warmly welcomed by all of us.

## CHAPTER CXXXV. {.chapter}
*How all the slaves we had taken in Tepeaca, Quauhquechola, Tecalco, and Castilblanco were gathered at our headquarters and branded with an iron in his majesty’s name.*

Once peace had been restored across the province and the people had submitted to his majesty’s authority, Cortés, finding there was nothing more to be done for the moment, decided with the royal officers to brand all the slaves with irons and set aside the fifth part for his majesty. Notice was given for everyone to bring their slaves to a designated house to be marked with a red-hot iron. Each man brought the women and young men taken prisoner, as grown men were not useful to us—they were hard to guard, and we didn’t want them in our service since we were satisfied with the Tlascallans. After all the slaves were brought together and marked with the letter G, the emperor’s fifth and then Cortés’ share were deducted before we even realized it. Besides, the night before, the best-looking Indian women had secretly been set aside, so when it came time to divide them among us soldiers, only the old and unattractive women remained. This caused a lot of murmuring against Cortés and those who had chosen first; some of Narvaez’s men said directly to Cortés that they hadn’t known until now that there were two kings in Spain and two royal fifths could be claimed. A certain Juan Bono, very vocal in his complaints, added that such practices should not be tolerated in New Spain and he would report this to his majesty and the council of the Indies. Another soldier asked Cortés if his division of the gold in Mexico hadn’t been enough of an imposition—he had first spoken of 300,000 pesos, but when we were forced to retreat from the city it was counted at 700,000 pesos. And now, they said, he was robbing the poor soldier, who had endured so much and suffered so many wounds, of this small reward, not even allowing him an attractive Indian woman as a companion! When it had been announced that each man was to present his prisoners to be branded, it was thought they would be valued and the emperor’s fifth taken from that amount in money, with no mention of a fifth for Cortés.

Such and even harsher words were being spoken everywhere about Cortés’s fifths, until finally he realized it was time to calm these bold voices. He stated, and swore on his conscience (as he often did), that in the future this would not happen again. All prisoners would be valued and sold accordingly so that there would be no more complaints. This change was indeed followed, especially after the conquest of Tezcuco, where we took a great many prisoners.

If this situation had already bred bad feeling, another matter stirred up even more trouble. The reader may recall that, on the night of sorrows, after as much gold as possible had been loaded up, Cortés gave what remained as plunder to the soldiers. Many of Narvaez’s men and our own had taken their share of the gold and, overloaded, perished during the retreat. Some, however, managed to escape with their treasure, though at great personal risk and suffering many wounds.

When Cortés learned that many men still had gold bars, leading to heavy gambling in the camp (as the saying goes, gold and love cannot remain hidden long), he ordered—under threat of severe punishment—that everyone must declare all the gold taken during our retreat from Mexico, of which a third would be returned; anyone refusing would have it all confiscated. Many flatly refused, but Cortés managed to extract a good deal of gold under the pretext of a loan. Since most of the officers and crown officials had helped themselves to gold as well, Cortés suddenly dropped the subject, and nothing further was said. Still, it definitely damaged his standing with everyone.

## CHAPTER CXXXVI. {.chapter}
*How the chief officers and leading figures among Narvaez’s troops request permission to return to Cuba—which Cortes grants, allowing them to leave; and how our general sends emissaries to Spain, St. Domingo, and Jamaica.*

The officers from Narvaez’s forces and those who had come from Jamaica with Garay’s expedition, seeing that the whole province of Tepeaca was now pacified, asked Cortes to fulfill his promise and let them return to Cuba. Cortes not only granted their request, but assured them—especially Duero and Bermudez—that once the conquest of New Spain and Mexico was complete, he would give them much more gold than they had already received. Until then, he supplied them with the provisions we had, including maize, salted dog meat, and poultry. He also gave them one of our best ships and sent letters by them to his wife, Catalina Suarez de Mercayda, and to his brother-in-law Juan Suarez, who was staying in Cuba at the time. These letters were accompanied by some gold bars and a few jewels and, among other things, recounted our defeat in Mexico.

Everyone who left New Spain at that time had amassed considerable riches, and I will list their names as best as my memory allows: Duero, Bermudez, Bono, Bernardino Quesada, Francisco Velasquez—known as the hunchback, a relative of the governor of Cuba; Carrasco, who would later return to New Spain and who now lives at Puebla; Melchior de Velasco, from Guatemala; a man named Ximenes, now living at Oaxaca, who was compelled to go to Cuba because of his son; the accountant Leon de Cervantes, who used the similar pretext of seeing his daughter there and, after the conquest of Mexico, arranged an excellent marriage for her; Maldonado de Medellin, who was forced to leave due to ill health; another man of that name, known as the proud, who was married to Maria Arias, also left us; and a certain Vargas, from Trinidad, commonly called the gallant. Lastly, an old companion of Cortes, the pilot Cardenas, who said to one of his comrades, “We soldiers can now rest, since New Spain has two kings.” Cortes had given him 300 pesos to persuade him to return with his wife and family. Besides these men, there were many others whose names I have forgotten—which is just as well, as it saves me from going into too much detail.

After Cortes had given them permission to leave, we asked him why he had let them go, since so few of us would remain. Cortes replied he had done so to free himself from their continual complaints and demands. We also knew that many of them were unfit for service, and that it was better to be alone than in bad company.

Pedro de Alvarado was assigned to see them safely on board with orders to return to headquarters as soon as they had departed.

Around this time, Cortes also sent Ordas and Alonso de Mendoza on a mission to Spain, though he never disclosed the details to us. We only heard that the bishop of Burgos called Ordas and all of us villains and traitors to his face, which Ordas bravely rebutted. On this occasion, Ordas was made comptroller of Santiago and received imperial approval to incorporate a burning mountain into his coat of arms. I will recount his subsequent actions in Spain later.

Alonso de Avila, treasurer of New Spain, and Alvarez Chico, another highly capable man of business, were sent in another ship to St. Domingo to give an account of our actions to the royal audiencia there and to the Hieronymite friars, who were appointed viceroys over all the islands. Their aim was to gain approval for our actions against Narvaez and for the way we had punished and enslaved the inhabitants who murdered Spaniards and rebelled against His Majesty, and to seek their view on whether Cortes should take similar actions against all tribes allied with the Mexicans who had committed such offenses. Cortes also asked them to report our efforts and ongoing service to the crown to His Majesty and requested their support in our rightful cause against the bishop of Burgos, who was determined to see us ruined.

A third ship was dispatched by Cortes to Jamaica to buy horses, commanded by Solis, son-in-law to the bachelor Ortega. You might ask where Cortes got the money for all this. I can only say that a large quantity of gold stored by both Narvaez’s and our own men, especially the cavalry, was recovered. Many of the eighty Tlascallan porters carrying the gold while retreating from Mexico in the vanguard made it safely over the bridges. We lowly soldiers, whose job was only to obey, cared little at the time whether there was gold or not, being satisfied just to escape alive and tend to our injuries. Whatever gold was saved, Cortes managed to recover as much as he could get his hands on; our men even suspected he pocketed again the 40,000 pesos that were the share of the Mexican treasure meant for the garrison at Vera Cruz. With these funds, he sent emissaries to Spain and St. Domingo for his own business and others to Jamaica to purchase horses.

With peace now restored in Tepeaca, Cortes marched back with his troops to Tlascala and left Francisco de Orozco with twenty disabled soldiers as commandant of Villa Segura.

Cortes then ordered the necessary amount of timber to be felled for building thirteen brigantines for another assault on Mexico, as we were convinced we could not attack the city without a small fleet, nor approach again over the causeways. Martin Lopez was appointed by Cortes to direct the construction of these brigantines, for he was not only a good soldier, but overall rendered the greatest service to His Majesty in all our campaigns. Once again, he worked with his usual dedication—it was fortunate indeed that he had been with us from the beginning, for had we needed to send for a shipbuilder from Spain, we would have lost precious time and might not have found anyone so suitable.

When we arrived in Tlascala, we learned that our old friend Maxixcatzin, one of His Majesty’s most loyal vassals, had died of smallpox. We all deeply mourned this loss, and Cortes himself, as he told us, grieved as if he had lost his own father. We donned black cloaks in mourning, paying our last respects to our departed friend alongside his sons and family.

A dispute broke out in Tlascala over the succession to the chieftainship, and Cortes ruled in favor of the deceased’s son, honoring the will of his late father. On his deathbed, Maxixcatzin had strongly urged his entire family to remain loyal to Malinche and his companions, saying they were surely the ones destined to rule these lands.

But let us leave the dead in peace and return to the living. The elder Xicotencatl, Chichimeclatecl, and the other Tlascala chieftains all gladly offered their assistance to Cortes in felling timber for the brigantines and in helping with the campaign against Mexico.

Cortes embraced them all warmly and thanked them for their great kindness, especially Chichimeclatecl and Xicotencatl; the latter would eventually convert to Christianity, being baptized by Father Olmedo with great ceremony and receiving the name Don Lorenzo de Vargas.

Meanwhile, preparations for the brigantines advanced rapidly; the timber was felled and prepared with the help of the Indians. An excellent soldier named Andreas Nuñez and Ramirez the elder, an old, wounded carpenter, were especially valuable. When matters had reached this stage, Cortes procured ironwork, anchors, sails, and ropes from the ships destroyed at Vera Cruz and summoned all the smiths from that town to Tlascala. More than a thousand Indians were sent to transport these materials. The boiling cauldrons for preparing tar were also brought from Vera Cruz; we now lacked only the materials for making tar, which was completely unknown to the Indians, but here again Cortes was resourceful—he selected four sailors skilled in its preparation and sent them to a pine forest near Huexotzinco.

Though this may appear out of place here, I must answer a question posed to me by several gentlemen regarding Alonso de Avila, whom they knew well. They wondered why, since Avila—though treasurer of New Spain—was a better soldier than a businessman, Cortes chose him to confer with the Hieronymite friars at St. Domingo instead of someone more business-minded, such as Alonso de Grado or Juan de Cacares, called the wealthy, or others. Cortes’s main reason was simply to get Avila out of the way, since he spoke his mind too freely and always sided with the soldiers if he saw we were treated unfairly. Adding to this, Avila had fallen out with several of our officers because of his blunt manner. Lastly, Cortes wanted to put Andreas de Tapia in charge of a company and appoint Alonso de Grado as treasurer, which could only happen if Avila was absent.

Cortes now resolved to march with all his men to Tezcuco, as the timber for the brigantines was ready and we had removed Narvaez’s men, whose objections and constant arguments against besieging Mexico discouraged others with their cowardice. Before leaving for Tezcuco, though, there was much debate about the best site to launch our brigantines. Some men argued that Ayotzinco, near Chalco, with its canals and harbor, was best suited for the purpose; others favored Tezcuco, reasoning that, once we had secured the town—which was surrounded by many populous settlements—we could better coordinate our operations against Mexico.

We had just chosen the latter site when three men arrived from Vera Cruz with the news that a large Spanish ship had arrived from the Canaries, carrying crossbows, muskets, powder, and other ammunition, along with three horses and thirteen soldiers. The owner of the cargo was Juan de Burgos, and the ship’s captain was Francisco Medel.

The reader can easily imagine our delight at this news; if we had been in good spirits before for our planned campaign, we were even more so now upon hearing these welcome reinforcements. Cortes promptly purchased the whole cargo and supplies from Burgos, who came with Medel and all the passengers to our headquarters, where they received a very warm welcome. Among the passengers was a wealthy man named Juan del Espinar, formerly of Guatemala; also, a Sagredo from Medellin; and a Biscayan named Monjaraz, uncle of the two others of that name serving among us. This Monjaraz had a very beautiful daughter, who later came to Mexico and was known as Monjaraza. Yet this Monjaraz did not join us in our campaigns due to poor health. It wasn’t until we laid formal siege to Mexico that he arrived, now healthy, saying he wished to observe our methods of attack and see for himself the Mexicans, for whose courage he had little regard. He climbed to the top of an Indian temple shaped like a tower; from that point, however, we never saw him again, nor did we ever learn how the Mexicans got at him or what became of him. Many who had known him in St. Domingo claimed his sudden death was an act of God—for they recounted that he had killed his own wife, a most virtuous, excellent, and beautiful woman, for no reason at all, and escaped justice by producing false witnesses to say she had tried to poison him. But enough of these old stories—it is time to consider our march to Tezcuco in earnest.

## CONQUEST

##### OF

## MEXICO AND NEW SPAIN.

## CHAPTER CXXXVII. {.chapter}
*How all of us marched towards Tezcuco, and what happened on our way there.*

When Cortés found himself well supplied again with muskets, powder, crossbows, and horses, and saw how eager we all were—officers and soldiers alike—to begin the siege of the great city of Mexico, he asked the caciques of Tlascala to provide him with 10,000 of their troops to join us for the campaign to Tezcuco, as it was one of the largest and most important towns in New Spain after Mexico itself. The elder Xicotencatl (now called Don Lorenzo de Vargas) assured him that not only the 10,000, but many more men, were at his service, and that the brave cacique Chichimeclatecl, our especial friend, would personally lead them. Cortés gave him sincere thanks, and, after reviewing all the troops—whose exact number I have since forgotten—we began our march on the fourth day after Christmas in the year 1520.

The first night we stayed in a township subject to Tezcuco, where we were provided with everything we needed. From there, we entered Mexican territory, where we became even more cautious and always sent four mounted scouts and four foot soldiers ahead to explore the passes, since we had been warned that a dangerous mountain pass had been blocked by large trees, felled by the enemy as soon as news of our approach had reached Mexico and Tezcuco. However, during this day's march, we encountered nothing that hindered us, and we rested for the night about twelve miles further along, at the foot of a mountain. It was very cold there, and we kept a sharp lookout. At daybreak, we continued further up the mountain, soon arriving at the pass that had been blocked with felled trees and a deep pit; but with so many Tlascallans with us, we quickly cleared the trees and filled the hole, so our cavalry could pass over, with crossbowmen and musketeers leading the way. We continued ascending and then descended a bit, until we reached a spot from where we had a splendid view of the lake of Mexico and its large towns standing in the water.

When we saw the city again, we gave thanks to the Almighty for having brought us so far, and we pledged ourselves to act more wisely in this campaign than we had before. As we came down the mountain, we saw numerous signal fires around Tezcuco and its subject towns. When we reached another difficult pass, we encountered a large force of Mexicans and Tezcucans waiting for us near a partially burned bridge over deep water. However, we soon drove the enemy off and crossed safely to the other side, though they kept up their fearful yelling from hiding places in the passes, where we could not reach them—and that was all they did.

Although our cavalry could not maneuver in those areas, our Tlascallan allies were not idle; they spread out over the countryside, taking whatever they could find, even though Cortés had ordered that we should not start hostilities unless the enemy attacked first. The Tlascallans maintained that if the Tezcucans had meant any friendly intention toward us, they would not have come to the bridge to stop us.

That night we stayed in another township belonging to Tezcuco. The inhabitants had all fled; nevertheless, we remained alert, nearly certain we'd be attacked by a large group of Mexicans lying in wait in another mountain pass, according to five Mexicans we had captured at the bridge, although later we learned the enemy had not dared attack and had withdrawn instead. At this time, the Mexicans and Tezcucans were not on good terms with each other. Also, smallpox was raging through the region, so they could not muster many warriors. Our recent victories over the Mexican garrisons at Quauquecholla, Itztucan, Tepeaca, Xalatzinco, and Castilblanco had spread terror throughout the land, and it was widely believed that the combined forces of Huexotzinco and Tlascala had joined this campaign.

Our camp that night was about eight miles from Tezcuco, which we left at dawn, using all military precautions. After only a couple of miles, our scouts brought good news to Cortés: about ten unarmed Indians bearing a golden banner were approaching and had not been harassed as they passed houses and fields; everything appeared peaceful. We all welcomed these good signs and paused to rest a bit. Seven prominent Tezcucans arrived, carrying a golden banner on a long lance, which they lowered as a sign of peace. On approaching Cortés—who had Doña Marina and Aguilar by his side—they addressed him: "Malinche, our lord and master Coanacotzin, the king of Tezcuco, has sent us to ask for your friendship. He awaits you in his city of Tezcuco and, as a sign of peace, sends this golden banner. He also requests that you instruct your brothers and the Tlascallans not to devastate his country, and invites you to lodge in his city, where he will supply all your needs."

They also assured us that the troops waiting for us in the passes were not Tezcucans, but Mexicans sent by Quauhtemoctzin. Cortés and all of us were overjoyed at the king’s message. He embraced the ambassadors—three of whom were closely related to Motecusuma and known to us as former officers of that monarch—with great affection. Our general then summoned the Tlascallan chiefs and strictly ordered them not to allow their men to commit any damage in Tezcuco or harm anyone, as we were now at peace here. The chiefs agreed, though their methods of acquiring provisions were not always very delicate—every house had ample supplies of maize, beans, dogs, and fowls.

Still, Cortés suspected the Tezcucans were not sincere in seeking peace, and he discussed it with our officers, who agreed; they remarked that if the Tezcucans truly meant peace, they wouldn’t have come in such a rush or empty-handed. Cortés accepted the golden banner, worth about eighty pesos, thanked the ambassadors, and assured them that it was not our custom to mistreat any subject of our emperor; rather, all would be well treated, as they would see if they stayed faithful to peace with us. He also told them the Tlascallans were forbidden to harm the locals. However, since after our withdrawal from Mexico the Tezcucans had killed over forty Spaniards and 200 Tlascallans and robbed them, he demanded from King Coanacotzin and the Tezcuco chiefs the return of stolen property—if they returned it, he would forgive the murder of the Spaniards, who could not be restored. The ambassadors replied that they would relay all this to their ruler, but explained that those Spaniards (whom they called *teules*) had, by order of Cuitlahuatzin, been sent to Mexico with all they had and were there sacrificed to Huitzilopochtli.

Cortés, not wishing to intimidate them, said nothing more, kept one of them with us, and dismissed the rest in peace.

Next, we came to one of Tezcuco’s suburbs—the name escapes me—where we received excellent provisions and every necessity. On our way, we destroyed some idols found in a large building where we stopped. The next morning we entered Tezcuco itself. It immediately struck us as odd that we saw no women or children, but only grown men, all showing signs of unease, as if preparing for hostility. Nevertheless, we took our quarters there. Cortés strictly ordered that no officer or soldier was to leave the main courtyard outside our quarters and that everyone be constantly on guard, since the townspeople didn’t appear peaceful—it was essential first to see how things stood.

Alvarado, Oli, several soldiers, and I myself, were ordered to occupy the great cu, which was extremely tall, along with twenty musketeers for guard duty. From this vantage, we had an excellent view of the town and the lake. As soon as we reached the top of the temple, we saw the inhabitants of Tezcuco and neighboring towns fleeing with all their possessions—some running for the hills, others hiding in reedy parts of the lake, which was crowded with canoes.

This was quickly reported to Cortés, who then decided to seize the king of Tezcuco who had sent the golden banner. However, when he sent the priests to summon him, he learned that the king, along with several noblemen, had fled to Mexico.

So the first night passed, during which we remained vigilant, posted sentinels in all directions, and sent out frequent patrols. Early the next morning, Cortés summoned the town’s authorities, several of whom were opposed to the fugitive king due to disputes over how he ruled. When they arrived, he had them explain everything in detail and asked how long Coanacotzin had been king. They said Coanacotzin had killed his elder brother, the former regent, to become king, with the secret support of Cuitlahuatzin (who had expelled us from Mexico after Motecusuma’s death); but that others in the town were closer heirs to the throne, particularly a young man who was the rightful heir. This young man soon converted to Christianity, was baptized with great solemnity by Father Olmedo, and named after his godfather, Don Hernando Cortés. He was the legitimate son of Tezcuco’s previous prince, Nezahal Pintzintli. Without delay, he was installed as king to the great satisfaction of the people, who accepted him wholeheartedly. So he might be fully instructed in our faith, learn government, and the Spanish language, Cortés appointed as his stewards the bachelor Escobar and Antonio de Villareal (who was married to the beautiful Isabella de Ojeda). The brave Pedro Sanchez Farsan, whose wife was the courageous and excellent Maria de Estrada, was made commandant of the town, with the special instruction to prevent the new king from contacting the Mexicans. This prince later provided us great services, and was highly esteemed and loved by his subjects. Cortés's first requirement was enough labor to help us launch the brigantines once finished and to lengthen and deepen the canals for their launch; he then explained to the king and nobles what these vessels were for, and his plan to encircle Mexico from all sides. They not only agreed to help, but also sent messengers to neighboring towns, inviting them to ally with us, submit to our emperor, and declare war on Mexico.

All our troops were divided into companies, each assigned to a particular station—truly necessary, since Quauhtemoctzin kept sending out large pirogues and canoes to test if we were unprepared.

At this time, several tribes subject to Tezcuco came to ask for peace and beg forgiveness if they had, in any way, taken part in the recent killings of our countrymen. Cortés welcomed them kindly and accepted their friendship. Work on our brigantines now continued rapidly, and each day seven to eight thousand Indians were employed to lengthen and deepen the principal canal. We had about as many Tlascallans still with us, eager to win honor by helping us fight the Mexicans. Cortés easily persuaded them to join him in an expedition against Iztapalapan, through which we had passed on our first march to Mexico. Cuitlahuatzin, previously king of this town, became ruler of Mexico after Motecusuma’s death, and the residents had harmed us and often raided the towns of Chalco, Tlalmanalco, Amaquemecan, and Chimalhuacan because they had allied with us. After twelve days in Tezcuco without notable action, we decided to start the campaign against Iztapalapan.

## CHAPTER CXXXVIII. {.chapter}
*How we marched against Iztapalapan; Cortés taking with him Alvarado and Oli, while Sandoval remained to defend Tezcuco.*

The campaign against Iztapalapan was mainly undertaken to please the Tlascallans, as their desire to test themselves again against the Mexicans was intense. They were running out of patience and longed to avenge their countrymen killed during our retreat from Mexico. Also, Tezcucans could scarcely provide enough food for so great a host, and it was not beneficial for us to overburden them.

Cortés led this expedition personally, joined by Alvarado, Oli, thirteen cavalry, twenty crossbowmen, six musketeers, and two hundred Spanish infantry. These were joined by all our Tlascallan allies and twenty Tezcucan chiefs, relatives of Prince Don Hernando and enemies of Quauhtemoctzin.

Once everything was arranged, we began our march for Iztapalapan, about sixteen miles from Tezcuco and, as I mentioned earlier, it is half built out over the lake. We advanced with full military caution, as the Mexicans had posted scouts everywhere to track our movements and could move reinforcements wherever needed.

Once again, they were forewarned and strengthened Iztapalapan with over 8,000 warriors; so we found a substantial army awaiting us outside the town. The enemy held firm for a long time, but finally broke under our cavalry, crossbows, and muskets, while the Tlascallans attacked ferociously. The Mexicans retreated into the town, where we followed—this, however, seems to have been the enemy’s plan, and it nearly cost us dearly. The enemy fell back before us, then fled into canoes or hid in the houses over the water or among the reeds. It was now dark, and as they lay quiet, we, satisfied with our victory, let down our guard. While we thought ourselves safe and least expected trouble, suddenly a tremendous flood rushed into the town—surely, we would all have drowned if the distinguished Tezcucans with us hadn’t warned us in time to flee the houses. The enemy had broken two dams, instantly flooding the town; many Tlascallans, unused to deep water and unable to swim, were drowned. The rest of us were soaked, lost our powder, and were forced to retreat in great haste, risking our lives. We spent a miserable night—soaked, hungry, cold—while the enemy taunted us with yells and shouts from their canoes and houses. Worse still, the people of Mexico, once informed of our desperate situation, advanced on us in great numbers, by land and water, and attacked with such fury the next morning that only by our utmost efforts could we make a stand. We lost two Spaniards and a horse, and many more were wounded. Gradually, the enemy’s assault eased, allowing us to retreat to Tezcuco—quite vexed at our defeat. If we did not earn much glory in this battle, it must be remembered we had lost all our powder. Nonetheless, we did impress our enemies somewhat, for after we withdrew to Tezcuco, they stayed quiet, tending their wounds, burying their dead, and repairing damaged houses. Let me return now to Tezcuco, where ambassadors from other townships had arrived seeking peace.

## CHAPTER CXXXIX. {.chapter}
*How ambassadors arrive in Tezcuco from three neighboring towns to ask for peace and forgiveness for the killing of several Spaniards who fell into their hands; and how Sandoval marched to Chalco and Tlalmanalco to assist the people there against the Mexicans.*

Two days after our return to Tezcuco, three neighboring towns sent ambassadors to Cortes to request peace and ask forgiveness for having killed some Spaniards. They tried to excuse themselves by saying they had only acted under orders from Cuitlahuatzin, who had become king of Mexico after Motecusuma’s death; they said they did only what they were forced to do, and had sent the Spaniards they captured, along with their horses and everything else, to Mexico. These towns, which thus came seeking peace, were Tepetezcuco and Otumpan; the name of the third I have forgotten. It was the same Otumpan where the memorable battle was fought against the elite of the Mexican army.

The people of these towns were frightened when they heard of our march against Iztapalapan and expected us to turn on them next; and though they would have been pleased if we had perished in the water or lost the last battle, they decided it was wiser to seek peace and thus avoid the punishment they feared.

Cortes, recognizing this was the best course under the circumstances, pardoned them for the past, but made them solemnly promise to remain loyal to our emperor in the future, to obey us in everything, and never again to ally themselves with Mexico; all of which they faithfully adhered to. Afterwards, ambassadors arrived from another town in the middle of the lake, called Mizquic, which we called Little Venice. The people there had never been close friends with the Mexicans and now thoroughly hated them. An alliance with these lake-dwelling people was extremely important to us, and we also hoped we could, through them, gain the friendship of the other towns on the lake. These ambassadors were therefore received with great courtesy by our general, who sent them away with assurances of friendship and protection.

During this meeting, Cortes received information that a large Mexican force was marching against the four towns that first sought our friendship. The people there did not dare to openly resist the enemy but planned to flee to the mountains or seek refuge with us in Tezcuco. They pleaded for help so insistently that Cortes finally agreed and marched there with twenty horsemen, two hundred foot soldiers, thirteen crossbowmen, and ten musketeers, accompanied by Alvarado and Oli. These towns were about nine miles from Tezcuco and were threatened with total destruction by the Mexicans for having made peace with us. They were especially anxious about the fate of the maize crops by the lake, which were ready for harvest and from which the people of Tezcuco and the four towns hoped to supply us. The Mexicans claimed ownership of this maize, as those towns had always tilled those fields for the priests of Mexico; indeed, many lives had already been lost in disputes over these fields.

Now fully informed of the situation, Cortes told the inhabitants they had nothing to fear and to stay calmly at home, sending word when they were ready to harvest their maize. He would send an officer with several horsemen to protect the reapers. This arrangement pleased them, and we returned to Tezcuco.

When our supply of maize was nearly gone, we notified those towns, and they immediately began reaping their crops. We marched there to protect them with ten horsemen, a hundred foot soldiers, and a few musketeers and crossbowmen, as well as the Tlascallan troops, taking up positions in the maize fields.

I personally went out on these expeditions twice. On one occasion, we had a fierce skirmish with the Mexicans, a large number of whom arrived in over a thousand canoes and, hiding among the maize, began capturing our allies. We immediately attacked them, and though they fought bravely, we forced them to retreat to their canoes. In this fight, we lost one man killed and twelve wounded; among the Tlascallans, fifteen to twenty were killed, and five taken alive.

The day after this skirmish, we heard that the towns of Chalco and Tlalmanalco, along with their dependent villages, wished to make peace with us but were prevented by the Mexican garrisons stationed there. They bitterly described their mistreatment: their wives were carried off and, if attractive, often abused in front of their parents and husbands.

At this time, our carpenters in Tlascalla had gotten so far with building the brigantines that the timber was ready to be assembled. We were in an awkward position: bound to Tezcuco, with no time to arrange for transporting the brigantines, and constant pleas for help against the Mexicans—whether from the inhabitants of Tezcuco, Mizquic (Little Venice), or other friendly allied towns. On top of this, many of our Tlascallan allies wanted to go home with their loot—gold, salt, and more—but dared not, due to danger from the many Mexican troops in the area.

Given all this, Cortes judged that the people of Tlalmanalco and Chalco most urgently needed our support, to help them ally with us. The other towns would have to defend themselves for now, since Tezcuco could not be left without troops; constant vigilance was needed there. Lugo and Sandoval were therefore ordered to march out with fifteen horsemen, two hundred foot soldiers, a handful of crossbowmen and musketeers, as well as our Tlascallan allies. Their task was to drive out the Mexican troops from Chalco and Tlalmanalco, and clear the road to Tlascalla and Vera Cruz, which the enemy had garrisoned.

The inhabitants of Chalco were informed of this in advance by trustworthy men from Tezcuco, so they could attack the Mexicans at the same time as our troops. This news was most welcome to Chalco, and they made ready to rise against the enemy at the right moment.

Sandoval placed five horsemen, an equal number of crossbowmen, and most of the Tlascallans with all their booty in the rearguard. The Mexicans, having scouts everywhere, learned of our march to Chalco and gathered a strong force, attacking our rearguard, which was mostly Tlascallans. Not surprisingly, our five horsemen and few crossbowmen could not hold out long against such overwhelming numbers; two were soon killed, and the rest wounded. Sandoval hurried to the rescue at the first alarm, managed to drive back the Mexicans and kill seven, but they escaped by canoe to a safe place, made easier as the whole district was under their control.

Sandoval was greatly frustrated to find the five horsemen and their riders wounded, with two crossbowmen killed and the rest wounded. He sharply criticized them for not having defended themselves better and for failing to protect our Tlascallan allies, saying it was clear they had just come from Spain and knew little about fighting.

His first priority was now the safety of the Tlascallans and their baggage, and the delivery of letters from Cortes to Vera Cruz. In these, our general informed the town commandant of our conquests and of his intention to besiege and blockade Mexico, urging utmost vigilance, and ordering all able men to go to Tlascalla and wait there until the road was cleared of enemies.

After sending the messengers and escorting the Tlascallan allies to safety, Sandoval marched back to Chalco, which was not far away. He stayed on guard, knowing Mexican troops lurked everywhere, hiding in houses. Before he got far, passing through fields of maguey and maize, he was strongly attacked. On this occasion, the enemy carried long pikes specifically to counter cavalry charges. Nevertheless, Sandoval broke through their lines twice and, with Spanish and allied troops still left, drove them from the field. Five Spaniards, six horses, and many allies were wounded. This time, the enemy suffered heavy punishment for the new attack, and among the eight prisoners, three were Mexicans of rank.

When the people of Chalco saw Sandoval approaching, they hurried out in joy at his victory.

The next day, Sandoval told them he needed to return to Tezcuco. They said they wished to accompany him there, to pay their respects to Malinche (Cortes), and to present the two sons of their late cazique, who had died a few days earlier of smallpox. On his deathbed, he had asked the chiefs to have his sons installed by Cortes as caziques of Chalco. The dying man also advised them to submit to the great lord of the teules, as prophesied by their ancestors: that one day a bearded people would come from the sunrise to whom these lands were destined—prophecy now fulfilled in us.

Sandoval returned to Tezcuco, bringing with him the two princes, some noblemen of Chalco, and the eight Mexican prisoners. Cortes was delighted to see him again. After Sandoval recounted all that had happened, he went to his quarters to receive the caziques of Chalco. He treated them with full respect and, as requested, recognized them as vassals of our emperor, installing the late cazique’s two sons as rulers. After completing their mission, these chiefs presented gifts worth about 200 pesos.

With the help of Doña Marina and Aguilar, Cortes fully understood the caziques’ message. He showed them every kindness, giving the government of Chalco to the elder prince with several subordinate towns, and to the younger the towns of Tlalmanalco, Chimalhuacan, Ayotzinco, and others, so the elder received a bit more than half his father’s lands.

After Cortes gave them much good advice, he dismissed them. They offered every service in their power, assuring him that they had been peaceably disposed all along and would have given allegiance earlier if not for the Mexican garrison. They also told Cortes that before our retreat from Mexico, they had hidden two Spaniards he had sent to demand maize as tribute, and safely took them at night to our friends in Huexotzinco, saving their lives. We knew this to be true, as one of the escaped Spaniards later confirmed it in Tlascalla.

Cortes warmly thanked them for their loyalty and invited them to stay several more days to avoid the Mexicans, as he planned to send an officer to Tlascalla for the brigantine wood, and would then provide safe escort home.

After this meeting, Cortes decided to send the eight Mexicans Sandoval had captured as prisoners to Mexico to deliver the following message to the new monarch Quauhtemoctzin: “He, Cortes, very much wished to save the king of Mexico and his great city from destruction, and hoped he would send envoys of peace, in which case all past wrongs would be forgiven and forgotten, and nothing would be asked back of what was taken from us. It is easy to make war, but it only leads to the ruin of those who start it. We were well aware of the vast preparations for defending Mexico; it would all be useless and result only in the ruin of the city and its people. He should remember the great power of our Lord God who always aids us, and also that all the neighboring towns had declared for us. The Tlascallans especially were eager for war with the Mexicans to avenge their own dead. We hoped therefore he would send for peace on honorable terms.”

With this message, supplemented by some wise words from Doña Marina and Aguilar, the eight prisoners went to Mexico. Quauhtemoctzin, however, would not even give an answer to our proposals, continuing his preparations for war and sending orders to all his provincial troops to be ready to march at any moment, and that every Spaniard captured should be brought alive to Mexico for sacrifice to the gods. To win his people's favor, he excused many from tribute and made many promises.

Around this time, the Quauhtitlans, whom the Mexicans had previously mistreated for allying with us, returned to our quarters. They reported that the dispute over the maize fields, formerly worked for the priests of Mexico, was being renewed by the Mexicans, who each week attacked the reapers and took many prisoners to Mexico. Cortes decided to put an end to this and personally led a force of a hundred foot soldiers, twenty horsemen, twelve crossbowmen, and musketeers. To ensure success, he posted scouts to give instant warning of enemy movement. Thus prepared, we spotted a strong Mexican force approaching early one Wednesday morning, and, waiting until they were close, sallied out and drove them back to their canoes; four were killed and three taken prisoner.

After this skirmish, Cortes returned to Tezcuco, and the enemy never again bothered those towns. I must now relate what befell Sandoval on his march to Tlascalla, where he was sent to fetch the materials for building our brigantines.

## CHAPTER CXL. {.chapter}
*How Sandoval marches to Tlascalla to fetch the woodwork for building the brigantines, and what happened to him in a place we called the Moorish town.*

After waiting impatiently for the brigantines to be finished, and eagerly wanting to begin the siege of Mexico, Cortes ordered Sandoval to march to Tlascalla with two hundred foot soldiers, twenty horsemen, and twenty musketeers and crossbow-men, along with a strong body of Tlascallans and twenty of the most distinguished men from Tezcuco, to retrieve the woodwork needed for building the brigantines. He was also instructed to take with him the elderly and young children of Chalco, as they would be safer there. Cortes had previously arranged a friendly alliance between the Chalcans and Tlascallans; since the Chalcans had, until now, been part of the Mexican confederacy, they had always joined the Mexicans in campaigns against Tlascalla, causing deadly hostility between the two states. Through his mediation, Cortes ended this enmity and established friendship, which greatly benefited both sides.

On this occasion, Sandoval was also ordered to go to another township near the road to Tlascalla, to punish its inhabitants. This township was under Tezcuco and was commonly known among us as the Moorish town. During our retreat from Mexico, about forty of Narvaez’s men and several of Cortes’ veteran soldiers, along with many Tlascallans, had been killed here, and the Tlascallans had been robbed of three loads of gold. These people were now to be severely punished for their actions, even though the main guilt lay with Tezcuco, which at that time was closely allied with the Mexicans and played the leading role in the affair.

After Sandoval safely escorted the Chalcans to Tlascalla, he moved on to the Moorish town. However, the inhabitants had already been warned of our approach and had fled to the mountains. Sandoval pursued them, killed three or four of the townspeople, and captured four prominent men, along with numerous women and children. He treated them kindly and asked how they had managed to overcome so many Spaniards together. They explained that large numbers of Mexicans and Tezcucans had attacked the Spaniards while they were moving through a very narrow mountain pass, where they could only go one at a time; some had been killed, and the rest captured. These prisoners were taken to Tezcuco and divided among the Mexicans and Tezcucans. The villagers themselves had participated only because they were following orders from their superiors. All of this, they said, the Tezcucans had done to avenge the death of their king, Cacamatzin, whom Cortes had taken prisoner and who perished during our disastrous retreat from Mexico.

The blood of our unfortunate countrymen still stained the walls of the temple in this town. On an altar were also found the full skins of the faces of two Spaniards, with the beards still attached. The skins had been prepared much like the leather we use for gloves. Similarly, they had treated the skins of four horses. They had also carefully saved the horses’ hair and shoes, which were hung in the main temple as trophies of victory. Many pieces of Spanish clothing, brought as offerings to the idols, were found there as well. On a house wall, written in charcoal, were the words: “Here the unfortunate Juan Yuste, with several of his comrades, was imprisoned by the enemy.” Juan Yuste was a cavalryman who had served under Narvaez and was among the most distinguished of his troops.

Sandoval and his men were deeply grieved by all this, but what better could be done than to show mercy? Nearly all the townspeople had fled, and the captured women were weeping for their husbands and fathers. Sandoval therefore freed the four important prisoners along with all the women, and sent them to bring back those who had fled to the mountains. These people soon returned, pleaded for forgiveness, and pledged themselves as vassals of our emperor, promising to be loyal and to oppose the Mexicans in every way. When asked about the gold stolen from the Tlascallans, they explained that the Mexicans and Tezcucan chiefs had taken it away, claiming Motecusuma had robbed the temples to give it to Malinche.

Sandoval then continued to Tlascalla, arriving safely at the capital, where the caziques resided. He found all in excellent order: all the woodwork was completed and ready to be moved. Eight thousand Indians were employed to carry the wood and other materials on their shoulders. They were joined by as many warriors, along with another 2,000 porters for conveying provisions.

Chichimeclatecl, who, as the reader may recall, was both brave and high-ranking, commanded the Tlascallans in person. Under him were two remarkable men, Teucepil and Teutical, along with other caziques. Martin Lopez, with the help of several other Spaniards (whose names I forget), supervised the transport itself. Sandoval had feared he might have to wait a few days in Tlascalla for the materials to be moved, but was pleased to see everything proceed so efficiently. His march toward Tezcuco went just as smoothly, and in two days they reached Mexican territory. Here things changed, as the enemy attacked the column from the fields and mountain hideouts, out of reach of our cavalry and muskets, with wild cries. Martin Lopez decided stricter precautions were necessary, especially since the Tlascallans feared a sudden attack from large Mexican forces. Sandoval positioned the cavalry, crossbow-men, and musketeers so that some were always ahead of the convoy and others on the flanks. Chichimeclatecl, as chief commander of the Tlascallans, was assigned to bring up the rear—where Sandoval also took his place. This arrangement offended Chichimeclatecl, who thought it showed Sandoval lacked confidence in his courage; but when told that Sandoval himself would follow at the rear and that the Mexicans usually attacked that section first, especially the baggage, he was satisfied, embraced Sandoval, and thanked him for the honor.

After another two days’ march the convoy reached the outskirts of Tezcuco, and Sandoval entered in great splendor. The Tlascallans had put on their finest mantles and beautiful feather headdresses, marching into the city in perfect military order to the sound of drums and pipes. Several hours passed before they had all entered, and not one of the Tlascallan allies broke ranks as they kept shouting: *Long live the emperor, our master! Spain forever! Tlascalla forever!* Cortes and his officers came out to meet them, giving Chichimeclatecl and his men a warm welcome.

The woodwork was brought to the area near the canals and harbors where the brigantines would be finished. Martin Lopez, in charge of the work, once again set to it diligently. His main helpers were Andreas Nuñez, the elder Ramirez, a certain Diego Hernandez, several other carpenters, and two smiths. The work went quickly; soon the brigantines were finished and only needed to be caulked, fitted with masts and sails, and rigged. However, we had to stay very alert to prevent the Mexicans from destroying the brigantines, as they lay on the stocks very close to the lake. Indeed, the Mexicans tried three times to set them on fire. We captured fifteen of their men on these occasions, and they gave us detailed accounts of what was happening in Mexico City and Quauhtemoctzin’s plans. He was determined not to make peace with us under any circumstances; the Mexicans had resolved either to die in battle or destroy us all. Continuous dispatches were sent to towns under Mexico, urging them to prepare for war, and tribute was suspended. The Mexicans worked night and day to deepen and widen the canals along the causeways, strengthening them with fortifications and palisades. To defend themselves against our horses, they had made long pikes tipped with swords taken from us the night we retreated from Mexico. They also had plenty of round stones for their slings, large broadswords, and many other weapons.

We, too, worked tirelessly on our war preparations, and the canals for launching the brigantines were now wide and deep enough for large vessels. This was not surprising, since 8,000 Indians worked daily on the project.

## CHAPTER CXLI. {.chapter}
*How Cortes marches against the town of Xaltocan, which lay in the midst of the lake, about twenty-four miles from Mexico, and from there proceeds to other townships.*

The materials for building the brigantines were carried to Tezcuco by about 15,000 Tlascallans, who, after a few days, grew tired of having nothing to do. Furthermore, our provisions were beginning to run low; and since the Tlascallan general was very ambitious and brave, he told Cortes he wished to do some notable service for our emperor, to measure his strength against the Mexicans, and to prove both his loyalty and his courage. He also wanted to avenge the deaths of so many of his countrymen. Our general only needed to tell him where to attack the enemy.

Cortes thanked him sincerely for his kind offer and explained that he himself intended to lead troops out the following day. The planned attack was against the town of Xaltocan, which lay twenty miles from Tezcuco in the middle of the lake, connected by a causeway to the mainland. He had already tried three times to persuade the town's inhabitants to make peace—most recently through Tezcuco and Otumpan—but not only did they refuse, they treated our ambassadors with contempt and even assaulted them, sending them back to Cortes with this answer: “Just come— you won't find us unprepared; come whenever you like, you will always get the same reception, and death will be your fate! This is the answer our gods command us to send you.”

Cortes recognized that an expedition against the Xaltocans was very important and decided to command in person. He assembled a force of 250 Spanish foot soldiers, thirty horsemen, and plenty of musketeers and crossbowmen, along with all our Tlascallan allies and a group of the strongest Tezcuco warriors. Among our officers, Cortes chose Alvarado and Oli; Sandoval stayed behind to protect Tezcuco and the brigantines. We had to be vigilant, both because Mexico was nearby and because we could not fully trust the Tezcucans, as many had friends or family among the Mexicans. Before leaving, Cortes gave special orders to Sandoval and Lopez to speed up the brigantine construction, giving them only fifteen more days to finish and launch them. Then, after attending mass, he began his march. Near Xaltocan, he came upon a large group of Mexicans in a strong position, planning to attack the Spaniards and their horses. Cortes put himself at the head of the cavalry; after our musketeers and crossbowmen fired on the enemy, he charged at full gallop and killed several. The Mexicans then retreated to the mountains, pursued by the Tlascallans, who killed over thirty more. That night, Cortes camped in a small hamlet, set frequent patrols, posted sentinels in all directions, and observed every military precaution, since the area had many large towns. There, we learned that Quauhtemoctzin had sent large groups of troops to aid Xaltocan, stationed in canoes on the lake.

Very early the next morning, we were attacked by the combined forces of the Mexicans and Xaltocans, who rained arrows and stones from the small islands among the marshes, wounding ten Spaniards and many Tlascallans. Our cavalry was useless, as they couldn't cross the water between them and the enemy; the defenders had already cut the causeway to Xaltocan, flooding the area. Though our musketeers and crossbowmen kept up a brisk fire, the enemy shielded themselves behind boards set up next to their canoes.

All our efforts seemed useless, while the enemy kept mocking and taunting us, calling our soldiers old women and Malinche himself a coward who relied only on trickery and flattery. Cortes might have returned with nothing accomplished had not two Indians from Tepetezcuco—fierce enemies of Xaltocan—shown one of his men a spot recently flooded, but shallow enough to wade through into the town.

With this information, Cortes ordered the crossbowmen and musketeers, along with our other troops and several Tlascallans, to brave the water, which came up to their waists, and push forward. Cortes took position on the mainland with the cavalry to protect their rear if the Mexicans tried to attack from behind.

The enemy now fell fiercely on those wading through the water, wounding several, but our men pressed on steadily to the dry part of the causeway. The way to the town was now open, and they dealt heavy blows to the enemy, thoroughly repaying them for their insults. The Mexicans and townsfolk escaped to their canoes and fled to Mexico. Our men seized considerable spoils—cotton, gold, and more—then set fire to some houses and returned to the mainland with Cortes, refraining from spending the night in the town because it was completely surrounded by water.

In this action, our troops captured several young women who had not managed to escape. The Tlascallans also made a rich haul, loading up with cotton, salt, gold, and other goods.

The next night, Cortes encamped in a hamlet about four miles from Xaltocan, where our men dressed their wounds. However, one Spaniard, shot in the throat by an arrow, died soon after. Sentinels were posted as before and frequent patrols continued through the heavily populated area.

The following day, Cortes marched to another large township called Colvatitlan. Everywhere, the Mexicans and locals met us with jeers and taunts. Our troops had to tolerate this, as our cavalry could not operate in the terrain, and it was impossible to reach the Mexicans who were stationed on the small islands. Still, Cortes entered Colvatitlan without resistance and found it completely deserted. He quartered there for the night, maintaining all military precautions.

Next, he marched to Tenayucan, which we had previously called the town of Serpents because we found two horrifying serpent-shaped idols in its main temple. This town, too, was deserted, its people having fled to Escapuzalco, four miles farther on. That was the same Escapuzalco where Motecusuma had his gold and silverwork made, so we called it the *town of Silversmiths*. About two miles away was Tlacupa, the same town where, during the night of sorrows, the enemy killed several of our men. Before reaching Tlacupa, our troops encountered a combined force of locals from all the towns they'd passed, along with people from Tlacupa and Mexico. They attacked us fiercely, keeping ranks tightly closed, and Cortes struggled to break their line even with the cavalry; the infantry had great difficulty, fighting hand-to-hand before finally forcing the enemy to retreat. Cortes quartered his men for the night in Escapuzalco and continued the march the next morning. But if the previous day's attacks had been heavy, the next day their numbers increased and their tactics improved—several of our men were wounded, though we managed to push them back into their defenses and force our way into the town, where we looted and set fire to many houses.

When news of this defeat reached Mexico, reinforcements were immediately sent to Tlacupa to stop Cortes. They were instructed to attack the Spaniards first, then retreat toward Mexico to lure us along the causeway. This trick worked perfectly; Cortes believed their apparent flight was real and pursued them as far as a bridge, thinking victory was his. Once the Mexicans had drawn the Spaniards in far enough, they suddenly turned and attacked with overwhelming numbers—from land, from canoes, and from the rooftops—so that Cortes nearly gave up hope. In the rush over the bridge, we were assaulted by such a force that resistance was futile. One of our ensigns, refusing to let go of the colors, was badly wounded and fell into the water with the flag, but was lucky enough to escape drowning and, through sheer courage, managed to save both himself and the colors just as the Mexicans were about to drag him into a canoe.

In this disastrous encounter, we lost five men and had many wounded, and our troops struggled desperately to push through the enemy mass and reach the mainland.

Afterward, Cortes remained in Tlacupa for five more days and had another engagement with the Mexicans and their allies; then he began the return march to Tezcuco along the same road. The Mexicans, taking this withdrawal for a rout and thinking Cortes had lost his nerve, prepared for a decisive victory. They set an ambush where they could attack our horses, but were met with such a strong response that many were killed. Cortes lost one man and two horses, but so discouraged the enemy that they stopped harassing his march, and a few days later he reached Aculman, about eight and a half miles from Tezcuco, to which it was subject. When we heard of his arrival, Sandoval, all of us, and nearly all the caciques and soldiers of Tezcuco went out to meet him. The joy of being together again was great, as we had had no news of Cortes or his troops for fifteen days.

Once greetings were exchanged and some arrangements made for the troops, we returned that same day to Tezcuco, not daring to leave the city unguarded at night. Cortes stayed at Aculman for the night and reached Tezcuco the next day.

Since the Tlascallans had taken much booty on this expedition, they asked Cortes for permission to return home, which he readily granted. They left by a route where the Mexicans had not stationed any troops, so they arrived safely in Tlascalla with all their spoils.

After four days, during which our general and his men recovered from exhaustion, the chiefs of several northern townships came to Tezcuco with gifts of gold and cotton, and petitioned to be accepted as vassals of our emperor. These included Tucapan, Maxcaltzinco, Naultzan, and several others of less importance.

When these chiefs appeared before Cortes, they showed him the deepest respect, handed over the gifts, and told him they wished to be friends and subjects of the king of Spain. They also said these towns had aided the Spaniards at the battle of Almeria, where the Mexican commander Quauhpopoca—whom we had since punished so severely—had killed several *teules*.

Cortes, who had believed otherwise, was delighted to hear this and treated the ambassadors with great courtesy, happily accepting their gifts. He did not question their recent conduct, but immediately recognized them as vassals to our emperor and sent them away with promises of friendship.

Around this time, other allied towns also sent messengers asking for our general’s help against the Mexicans, who had invaded with large forces, taken many prisoners, and scalped others. Similar urgent pleas came from Chalco and Tlalmanalco, whose people said their destruction was certain without immediate help, as the enemy was approaching in great numbers. They did not just give a verbal account of their danger, but also brought a large piece of nequen cloth on which they had drawn the enemy forces advancing against them.

Cortes was greatly troubled about what to do, unsure how to send help to both places at once, since many of our men were wounded or exhausted; four had died of wounds, and eight more of pleurisy or severe bleeding from nose and mouth, exhausted by the heavy armor we could never remove, forced marches, and the dust we breathed.

Still, our general told the ambassadors of the first group of towns that he would soon come to their aid, but meanwhile urged them to turn to their neighbors, and with combined forces resist the enemy. He told them their own fear was what gave the Mexicans confidence, for the latter did not have as many troops as before, since more and more people now opposed them.

By these arguments, Cortes encouraged them and calmed their fears, but they asked for written authority from him to show their neighbors—a document commanding them to come help.

To explain why they wanted this, I should mention that though the Indians then could neither read nor understand our writing, they saw any written document as carrying especially strong and binding orders. They were delighted when Cortes gave them the requested letter, and showed it to their neighbors, who immediately sent out troops to join them, and together they bravely faced the Mexicans and fought with fair success in the coming battle.

Now, let us return to Chalco, whose safety especially concerned Cortes, since keeping this province free of the enemy was crucial; our line of communication with Vera Cruz and Tlascalla ran through it, and most of our supplies of maize came from its fertile fields. Cortes ordered Sandoval to set out there very early the next morning with 200 foot, twenty horse, twelve crossbowmen, ten musketeers, and all the Tlascallan troops still with us, though their numbers were much reduced, since, as I said, most had left for home with their loot. A group of Tezcucans was added to this detachment, under the command of Luis Marin, with whom Sandoval enjoyed the closest friendship. The rest of us stayed at Tezcuco to guard the city and the brigantines, and neither Alvarado nor Oli left headquarters this time.

Before recounting Sandoval’s mission to Chalco, I must comment on some remarks made by certain cavaliers who, after comparing my account of Cortes’s Xaltocan expedition with Gomara’s, found I had omitted three things he includes. First, he claims Cortes brought the thirteen brigantines before Mexico and fought a great battle with Quauhtemoctzin’s full forces aboard canoes and pirogues. Second, he says that when Cortes advanced to Mexico on the causeway, he parleyed with the Mexican chiefs and threatened to starve the city into surrender. Third, he claims that Cortes did not reveal his plan to attack Xaltocan to the Tezcucans, fearing they would betray him.

I replied to these gentlemen: during our expedition against Xaltocan, our brigantines were not yet finished; it would be absurd for the brigantines to have traveled overland, or for our cavalry and other troops to have crossed the lake that way. In fact, as I have just recounted, when Cortes advanced on the causeway from Tlacupa, he could barely retreat, and at that time we had not besieged the city closely enough to cut off its supplies. On the contrary—Mexico then still held the districts from which it drew food. Everything Gomara attributes to that occasion didn't happen until later. It is just as false to say Cortes took a roundabout route to keep his plans from the Tezcucans; he had no choice, since there was only one road, passing through Tezcuco territory.

These are serious errors, but I know they are mostly due not to Gomara, but to the false information given to him—deliberately, to give all the glory to Cortes and overshadow the brave deeds of his soldiers. What I report is the pure truth, and these same cavaliers later admitted my account was correct. Having digressed briefly, I return to Sandoval, who, after attending mass, led his troops from Tezcuco and reached Chalco by daybreak.

## CHAPTER CXLII. {.chapter}
*How Captain Sandoval marches to Chalco and Tlalmanalco, and what he did there.*

Sandoval set out with his troops on March 12, 1521. The first night he encamped at Chalco, and arrived early the next morning before Tlalmanalco, where the caziques and inhabitants gave him an enthusiastic welcome and provided ample food for his troops. The caziques, however, informed him he would have to march further on to the large township of Huaxtepec, where a sizeable Mexican force was stationed and would be joined by all the warriors of the province.

Upon receiving this information, Sandoval realized there was no time to lose and immediately moved towards Chimalhuacan, which was subject to Chalco, where he quartered his troops for the night. The people of Chalco had dispatched spies in every direction, and learned the enemy was nearby, lying in ambush in the thickets and hollows of the mountains. Sandoval, who was an officer of great determination and foresight, organized his march as follows: musketeers and crossbowmen would go in advance, followed by cavalry in columns of three, and when the musketeers had fired their weapons, the horsemen were to charge the enemy line at full gallop, aiming their lances at the face and continuing the attack until the enemy was put to flight. The infantry were to keep their ranks tightly closed and not rush the enemy until given a signal. Sandoval believed this attack order was necessary given the enemy’s great numbers and the unfavorable terrain for his maneuvers. It was also possible that the Mexicans had dug pits or set other traps to ensnare the Spaniards, so it was essential his small force stay tightly together.

After marching a bit further, Sandoval encountered the Mexicans, who approached in three distinct groups with terrifying yells and a cacophony of drums and shell trumpets, and they instantly fell upon our troops like furious lions. As soon as Sandoval saw the enemy attacking in three divisions, he likewise changed his order of attack and commanded the cavalry to charge the enemy without delay, not waiting for the rest of the troops. He then placed himself at the head of the cavalry, encouraged his men, and rushed forward to the attack, under the cry of— “Santiago!” The powerful impact caused some of the enemy to fall back, but they soon regrouped and bravely confronted our horsemen, helped by rough terrain and a deep trench, which made it difficult for our cavalry to maneuver. Realizing the enemy's advantage, Sandoval ordered his foot soldiers to close ranks again, placing crossbowmen and musketeers at the front, and those with swords and shields on the flanks. They were to advance and attack once they heard a shot from across the trench, signaling the cavalry had charged and driven the enemy onto level ground. Our allies were instructed to follow the Spanish infantry’s example; this was done, and the objective was achieved.

In this engagement, the enemy fought in better order than before, and many of our troops were wounded. The Mexicans retreated, but only to take up a new, stronger position. Sandoval and the cavalry pursued closely, taking only three or four prisoners and losing Gonzalo Dominiguez, whose horse unfortunately stumbled and fell on him; he died a few days later from his injuries.

I particularly mention Dominiguez’s death because he was one of the bravest men among us, and one of the best cavalry officers, considered as courageous in battle as Oli and Sandoval. We all deeply mourned the loss of this excellent officer. Sandoval followed the enemy with all his troops to Huaxtepec, where he was confronted by an army of over 15,000 Mexicans who completely surrounded him. Many of his men were wounded and five horses killed, but as the ground here was level, with a desperate cavalry charge he managed to break through, driving the enemy back into the town. The Mexicans tried to make another stand behind some entrenchments they had built, but the Spaniards and their allies pressed them hard, so the Mexicans finally shut themselves up in a fortified part of the town where the Spaniards could not reach them.

Sandoval assumed the enemy would stay quiet for the rest of the day. He allowed his men to rest, ordered the wounded to be treated, and distributed provisions, of which they had captured a considerable amount. While the men were in the middle of their meal, two cavalry and other outposts hurried in, shouting, “To arms! To arms! The Mexicans are coming in great numbers!” As it was always our custom to have weapons at hand, our men immediately formed up and marched to a large open area, where the fight began again. The Mexicans held their ground courageously for a little while behind more entrenchments and wounded several of our men, but Sandoval attacked so vigorously with cavalry, musketeers, crossbowmen, and the remaining infantry, that the enemy was driven out of the town and did not resist again that day.

Now certain of complete victory, Sandoval gave thanks to the Almighty and rested in a gorgeous garden belonging to the town, with many grand buildings and so many remarkable features that they were unique in New Spain. The grounds were so extensive it took considerable time to see it all, being more than a mile long.

I was not present myself on this expedition and did not see this garden until twenty days later, when I accompanied Cortes on his tour of the large towns around the lake. I had been laid up with a severe lance wound to the throat received in the battle of Iztapalapan, which nearly cost me my life. The scar is still visible.

But the reader will have noticed from the way I recount this that I was not present in this expedition; I have not written—we did this, we marched there—but instead—such and such was done, our troops marched to that place, and so forth. Nevertheless, everything happened as I have described, for at headquarters the details of every engagement soon become known and one can neither add to nor omit any facts.

When, the following day, Sandoval found the enemy had left the area entirely, he sent five prisoners taken in the recent battles—two of them chiefs—to the caziques of Huaxtepec, asking them to send messengers of peace and assuring them of a free pardon for the past. However, they replied that they dared not comply from fear of the Mexicans. Sandoval made similar offers to another large township, but had no better success. This town, called Acapalista, was about eight miles from Huaxtepec. Sandoval urged them to consider the difference between war and peace, and to ask themselves what benefit their neighbors of Huaxtepec had gained from sheltering Mexican troops. He demanded they drive out the Mexican garrison or he would attack and treat them as enemies. Their response was: “Come if you wish; we intend to feast on your bodies and offer savory sacrifices to our gods.”

The caziques of Chalco, who were with Sandoval, knowing there was a much larger Mexican force in Acapalista that was waiting for a chance to renew the attack on their town, urgently asked him to expel the enemy from there. Sandoval at first refused, explaining that many of his men and most of the horses were wounded, that he did not want to go beyond Cortes’s orders, and that several of Narvaez’s cavaliers argued it was too dangerous to attack such a strong place. But Captain Luis Marin strongly advised otherwise, arguing that abandoning the effort would allow the enemy to attack Chalco again and defeat the whole purpose of the expedition. Persuaded by these arguments, Sandoval decided to march on the town, just eight miles further on.

When he reached the area, a large Mexican force advanced on him, attacking so vigorously with lances, slings, and arrows that three horses and several men were wounded immediately, and Sandoval could not reach the enemy, who retreated to rocks and fortified heights, making a dreadful noise with their drums, shell trumpets, and hideous yells.

Sandoval then sent a few horsemen ahead to see whether, if he attacked the town itself, the Mexicans could come to its aid, and waited with the rest of his men in the plain. When the caziques of Chalco and the other Indian allies showed no desire to fight, Sandoval decided to test them and called out, “Well, why are you just standing there? Why don’t you advance and attack? Haven't we come here to protect you?” They answered they dared not attack such a strong place and thought the teules had come to do the hardest work for them.

Sandoval soon realized these Indians could not be relied upon, so he stormed the fortified heights with his Spanish troops. Though many were wounded, and Sandoval himself was badly hurt on the head, he kept advancing and broke into the town, where they inflicted heavy losses on the enemy—joined in the fight by the Chalcans and Tlascallans, who now showed great courage. Our troops were glad to let them finish the business once the enemy fled, feeling pity for the townspeople, and contenting themselves with capturing a few attractive women and other valuables. The Spaniards even restrained our allies in their cruelties, rescuing many men and women from being sacrificed to the idols.

The Mexicans retreated to steep rocks beyond the town. Since many were wounded, they washed their blood in a small stream, so that the water was tinted red, though only briefly, as long as it takes to say an Ave Maria. Still, Gomara claims that the water was so thoroughly mixed with blood that our men would not drink from it. But there was no need, for the town had many wells with pure water. After the fighting, Sandoval marched back to Tezcuco, taking many prisoners, among them many beautiful Indian women.

When Quauhtemoctzin learned of this defeat, he was deeply grieved, all the more because the people of Chalco were his subjects and now, for the third time, had turned against him. Yet he was determined on revenge. While Sandoval marched back to Tezcuco, he gathered an army of more than 20,000 men and sent them in 2,000 canoes to Chalco. They arrived so swiftly that Sandoval had barely reached Tezcuco and seen Cortes when messengers came in canoes from Chalco, urgently requesting his return. Cortes, who was speaking with Sandoval as the message arrived, was so angry he refused to hear him out, accused him of neglecting his duty, and ordered him back to Chalco immediately with all men fit for action. Sandoval was deeply hurt by Cortes’s reproaches, but what pained him most was that Cortes would not even hear his report. Nevertheless, he left at once for Chalco, and he and his men arrived exhausted by the weight of their arms and the long journey. In the meantime, the Chalcans had sought help from their allies the Huexotzincans and Tlascallans, who marched in that same night with an army of over 20,000. This gave the Chalcans courage; they attacked the Mexicans in the open field, fought with remarkable bravery, and killed or captured at least fifteen leading enemy officers, not counting many others taken prisoner. This defeat deeply shamed the Mexicans, perhaps even more than if we had inflicted it ourselves.

When Sandoval arrived in Chalco, he found the enemy already beaten. Since there was no fear of another Mexican attack, he marched back to Tezcuco with the prisoners. This time, Cortes was much pleased. Still, Sandoval had not forgotten how harshly Cortes had treated him, and in anger he refused at first to visit him, even after Cortes invited him, admitting he now understood the facts and Sandoval was blameless. Eventually, they reconciled, and Cortes did all he could to win back Sandoval’s friendship.

## CHAPTER CXLIII. {.chapter}
*How we marked our slaves at Tezcuco with a red-hot iron, and received word that a vessel arrived at Vera Cruz.*

Since Sandoval had brought many slaves with him, and there were others captured earlier, Cortes decided they all should be branded with a red-hot iron. It was announced that everyone was to bring their slaves to a certain house for this purpose. Our men did so, thinking they would only have to pay a fifth of their value to the emperor and would own them fully afterward with no further deductions.

However, if Cortes and others had behaved poorly at Tepeaca, their actions here were still more underhanded. First, the emperor’s fifth was deducted, then a second fifth went to Cortes, and other shares to our officers. Furthermore, during the night before the final division, all the best female slaves disappeared. Cortes had promised all the slaves would be sold at public auction, but this was not done; the crown’s officers divided them as they pleased. This taught us a lesson for the future; afterwards, when we captured beautiful Indian women, we hid them and claimed they had escaped when marking day came. If any of us were in Cortes’s good graces, we had them secretly marked at night, paying him a fifth quietly. Before too long we had accumulated many such slaves; if questioned, we claimed they were Naborias of nearby tribes near Tlascalla who had come to sue for peace. I must add that within two months some of our female slaves knew exactly which soldiers treated their Naborias well; whenever such women were put up for sale and learned they’d been bought by a man with a bad reputation for mistreating Naborias, they would vanish and could not be found. If they weren’t recaptured, it didn’t matter; the buyer was still charged for them by royal accounting. Our men fared no better with the division of gold, for when they tried to claim their share, so many deductions were applied that they considered themselves lucky if they didn’t end up owing something instead.

Around this time, a ship arrived in Vera Cruz from Spain with the following passengers: Julian de Alderete, a native of Tordesillas, appointed royal treasurer; also, the elder Orduña, from the same city, who lived for some time in Puebla. After the conquest, Orduña brought five or six daughters from Spain and married them all well. There was also a Dominican friar, Pedro Melgarejo de Urrea, from Seville, who brought a papal bull which granted us absolution for all the sins we had committed during these wars. With this bull, Urrea made a large fortune in just a few months and returned to Spain, accompanied by Geronimo Lopez as commissary of his holiness. Lopez later became royal secretary in Mexico.

Among many other passengers, I still remember the names: Antonio de Caravajal, who commanded one of our brigantines and is still living in Mexico, now advanced in age; Geronimo Ruiz de la Mota, of Burgos, who also commanded a brigantine and, after the conquest, married a daughter of Orduña; Briones, of Salamanca, who was hanged four years ago for stirring up a revolt among the troops in Guatimala; and Alonso Diaz de la Reguera, who lived in Guatimala for a time and is now residing at Valladolid.

This vessel also brought a large supply of arms, powder, and other goods; so we were all glad to see her. If I remember right, we also learned at that time that the bishop of Burgos was no longer in power, and that he had fallen out of his majesty’s favor since the king had been convinced, by reports from our agents, of the great services we had rendered the crown—services which the bishop, in his official reports supporting Diego Velasquez, had presented in the opposite light.

Meanwhile, our brigantines were nearly finished, and we all eagerly awaited the moment when we could lay siege to Mexico. Preparations were just underway when messengers came from Chalco with word that the Mexicans were once again advancing on the town and urgently requested our help. Cortes promised to march himself with his troops to their aid and swore not to rest until the enemy was driven from their territory. He immediately ordered three hundred infantry, thirty horsemen, most of our musketeers and crossbowmen, together with troops from Tezcuco and Tlascalla, to prepare to march out. The principal officers Alvarado, Tapia, and Oli accompanied him. The royal treasurer Julian de Alderete and Father Pedro Melgarejo, both just arrived from Spain, also joined. I myself accompanied Cortes on this expedition at his own particular request.

## CHAPTER CXLIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes made a hostile excursion to all the cities and larger townships surrounding the lake, and what occurred on that occasion.*

Cortes now marched out with a substantial body of troops to fulfill the promise he had made to the inhabitants of Chalco, aiming both to put an end to the frequent attacks the Mexicans made on this town and to secure the region. Sandoval remained behind with a strong detachment of foot and horse to protect Tezcuco and our brigantines.

We set out very early on the morning of April 5, 1521, after attending mass, and spent our first night in Tlalmanalco, where we received a warm welcome from the inhabitants. The next day, we reached Chalco, which is close by, and Cortes immediately summoned all the caziques of the province. Through our interpreters, he addressed them at length, explaining that this expedition was aimed at the towns along the lake’s borders, seeking both to bring them into obedience and to reconnoiter the area in preparation for the siege of Mexico. He told them that our thirteen brigantines would soon be launched, and asked them to have all their warriors ready by the next day to join us in the campaign. The caziques unanimously agreed to comply with his request.

The following morning, we continued our march and reached the township of Chimalhuacan, under Chalco's authority. There, more than 20,000 of our allies assembled from Chalco, Tezcuco, Huexotzinco, Tlascalla, and other towns—the largest force of Indians ever to have joined our troops up to that point in New Spain. Their hope for rich spoils drew many, but just as strong was the anticipation of feasting on human flesh after battle, which was customary for them. Truly, I can only compare these Indian thousands to the flocks of vultures, ravens, and other scavengers that followed armies during the wars in Italy to gorge themselves on the fallen.

This savage appetite of our Indian allies was soon to be satisfied, as we learned that large groups of Mexican troops and their local allies were waiting to attack us in a nearby valley. Upon this news, Cortes ordered us to prepare for battle early the following morning. So, after we had attended mass, we departed at daybreak from Chimalhuacan.

Our march led us through steep rocks, and soon we found ourselves between two small mountains, fortified at their summits. A large number of Indians and their wives had fled there, loudly taunting and hurling all sorts of abuse at us. We ignored their insults and marched on to a large township called Yauhtepec, which we found deserted. We did not linger, but continued onward across a plain with several small wells, but little water. On one side rose a high, rocky mountain crowned with a fortification that was extremely difficult to reach. Upon arriving near this rock, we found it crowded with Indians, who jeered at us and showered us with arrows, lances, and stones, wounding three of our men. Here, Cortes had us halt and said, “It seems the Mexicans have taken strongholds everywhere and mock us, thinking we cannot reach them.” He sent a few horsemen and crossbowmen to scout for a more favorable way to attack, but they reported the rock was only accessible at the spot where we were standing and rose perpendicularly elsewhere. Cortes then ordered us to storm the fortresses. The first ensign, Christobal del Corral, and the other ensigns were to go ahead, the rest of the infantry to follow. Cortes stayed below in the plain with the cavalry to protect our rear and the baggage from other Mexican forces. As we began our difficult ascent, the Indians rolled down huge stones and rocks, and it was terrifying to see these heavy masses crash down. It was a miracle we were not all killed. Certainly, Cortes was not acting as a prudent general in ordering such a hazardous attack. At my feet, a soldier named Martinez, once a butler to a Castilian nobleman, was crushed and killed instantly by a rock. Two others, Gaspar Sanchez (a nephew of the Cuban treasurer) and Bravo, met the same fate. Despite these losses, we pressed on bravely. Very soon, another soldier, Alonso Rodriguez, and two companions were also killed, and most of us were struck on the head by jagged stones split from the rocks above.

At that time, I was still young and agile, and so I kept close to the ensign Corral, and we reached a hollow in the rock where we continued, risking our lives. Soon, Corral could go no further, and clung to a thorny tree. His head was wounded all over, his face bloody, his colors reduced to rags. He turned to me and said, “Alas, Señor Bernal Diaz, it’s impossible to advance further; even if the rocks don’t crush us, we’ll hardly be able to keep our hold here.” While clinging on, I saw Pedro Barba, commander of the crossbowmen, with two soldiers trying to climb up. I called out, “Captain, don’t bother; there’s no place here for a hand or foot unless you want to fall down the mountain.” Barba answered, in the spirit of command or perhaps to maintain authority, “Here we have to do with deeds, not words.” I swallowed the remark and replied, “We’ll see how well you get up here!” No sooner had I spoken than more rocks came thundering down, wounding Barba and killing one of his men. That ended Barba’s attempt to go further.

Ensign Corral then called down to warn Cortes it was impossible to go further, and the descent was equally perilous. The warning was passed along until it reached Cortes, who, even from the plain below, had lost three men and had several others wounded by falling rocks. He had not seen our true danger due to the winding of the rock, but feared most of us had been killed or badly hurt. Immediately, he signaled with loud cries and musket shots that we should come down. We made our way down as carefully as we could, each helping the others, until we all reached the plain below—heads wounded and bleeding, our ensigns’ colors in shreds. When Cortes saw the state we were in and learned we had lost eight men, he gave thanks to God that the rest of us were spared.

Among the things discussed afterward were the few words exchanged between Pedro Barba and myself—a topic Barba himself raised—and Corral described how terrifying the rolling rocks were, astonishing everyone at our survival. News of our narrow escape spread through camp.

Meanwhile, a large body of Mexicans lay in ambush at a spot where we had no idea they were waiting, prepared to assist the rock’s defenders. When they realized we had failed to take the fortification, both groups decided to attack us from different directions.

When Cortes heard of their approach, he ordered the cavalry and all our troops to march against them. The ground there was level, with fertile meadows stretching between the hills. The enemy retreated before us, and we pursued them until they occupied another fortified rock, but we could do them little harm because they fled to places we could not reach.

We therefore returned to our previous position near the first rock, but, as we had not tasted a drop of water all day and our horses were also parched, and since the best wells were in the enemy’s control and ours only held muddy water, we moved our camp about six miles away to the foot of another mountain, where water was still scarce.

Near this mountain there were several black mulberry trees and about ten or twelve houses. We had barely rested when Indian war cries erupted from the mountain top, and we were hit with another barrage of arrows and rocks—even heavier than before. The enemy was stronger here and better positioned; all our musketeers’ and crossbowmen’s fire was useless, as the enemy was well protected behind fortifications. Twice we tried to ascend from the houses, and some reached a fair distance, but it was even more daunting than the earlier climb, so we did not gain much glory and were forced to yield victory to the Mexicans and their allies.

We camped that night beneath the mulberry trees, tormented by thirst. The next morning, our crossbowmen and musketeers were ordered to take position on a nearby steep rock to fire at the enemy entrenched opposite.

Francisco Verdugo and Julian de Alderete, both skilled crossbowmen, joined the detachment led by Pedro Barba. As they went, the rest of our troops again attempted to climb the mountain from the houses below, but the enemy sent down such showers of stones that many were soon wounded; even without that, the ascent was so steep it was almost impossible to advance. Meanwhile, the musketeers and crossbowmen arrived at their post, but could only inflict minor casualties.

After about half an hour of this kind of fighting, everything suddenly changed, and peace was unexpectedly made—surely by divine Providence. The women, children, and poor people on the rock were overcome by thirst and signaled their suffering by waving cloaks and gesturing that they would bake bread for us if we let them. As a sign, the Indians stopped hurling weapons.

When Cortes saw this, he ordered a halt to all hostilities and used signs to get the Indians to send five leading men to treat for peace. Soon five distinguished men arrived, showing great respect, begging forgiveness, and explaining fear alone had driven them to their stronghold. Cortes responded sternly that they deserved death for attacking us, but since they now sought peace, he would show mercy; he instructed them to go to the other rock and call the chiefs there to also come down, warning that if they refused, we would surround and starve them, knowing there was little water in the region.

As these men left for the other rock, Cortes began speaking with Father Melgarejo and the royal treasurer, Alderete, describing the battles before their arrival in New Spain, the power of the Mexicans, and the large cities we had seen so far. They assured our general that if the bishop of Burgos had reported honestly to the emperor rather than spreading falsehoods, we would already have been well rewarded. No monarch, they said, had ever received such vast benefits as the emperor had through us, who on his behalf conquered so many great cities.

After this, Cortes ordered Ensign Corral, myself, and two officers—Xaramillo and Pedro de Ircio—to climb the rock, inspect its fortifications and casualties, and observe the people there. “But I want you to take nothing from them, not even a grain of maize,” Cortes added; though I understood him to mean, “See to your own interests.”

We began to climb by a very precarious path and found the stronghold even more formidable than the first—sheer rock faces, and only a narrow entrance, no wider than a baker’s oven mouth. At the summit was a large grassy space, crowded with Indian warriors, women, and children. Their losses were only about twenty killed and several wounded. There was not a drop of water for them. Bundles of cotton cloth and other goods lay about, intended as tribute for Quauhtemoctzin. Knowing these were tributes for Mexico, I told four Tlascallans and four of the Indians guarding the goods to each take a load and follow me. At that moment, Pedro Ircio approached and ordered everything left intact. I protested, but ultimately had to obey since he was my superior. “Did you not hear Cortes say we must not even touch a grain of maize belonging to these people? I’ll report you if you do not leave the possessions,” he said. I acquiesced, though I believed these items weren’t included in Cortes’ prohibition. Regardless, I returned with empty hands.

When we returned to the plain and recounted what we saw, Pedro de Ircio expected Cortes to be pleased he had restrained me from taking the cotton goods. To his surprise, Cortes said sharply, “Why did you not let Bernal Diaz take those things? I’m astonished you didn’t stay above with the people. Was that what I meant by telling you to look to your advantage? Bernal Diaz, who understood me, was forced to leave those goods with those dogs, who now mock us for killing and wounding so many of our men!”

At this, Ircio offered to go back up and bring the goods, but Cortes told him curtly, “There’s no time now.”

Meanwhile, the caziques from the other rock arrived and, after various pleas, Cortes pardoned them and declared them vassals of our emperor.

Since water was so scarce in the whole district, we marched back to the town of Huaxtepec, with its vast gardens I previously mentioned. I must say, in all my life I have never seen such a splendid place! I pointed it out to Cortes, who immediately went there with Alderete, the royal treasurer, and they both explored the gardens for a long time, saying they had never seen anything like it in Spain. We all camped that night in the garden, and the local caziques came to offer services to Cortes—since Sandoval had previously made peace with them. The next morning, we marched toward Cuernavaca and encountered a strong Mexican force drawn from the town to oppose us, but our cavalry charged fiercely, routing them and chasing them three miles to another large town, Teputztlan. The Mexicans were so careless that our troops surprised them before their scouts could warn them, seized much booty, and took many noble women captive while most inhabitants fled.

Cortes sent three or four summons to the district’s caziques, demanding they sue for peace or suffer the burning of their town and death. Several times they refused, but when we set fire to half the houses to intimidate others, the caziques of Yauhtepec through which we passed agreed to submit as vassals of our emperor.

The next day, we marched to Coadalbaca, often mistakenly called Cuernavaca. The town had a strong Mexican garrison, along with local troops, and a deep ravine, about eight fathoms, with a small stream, made access difficult for cavalry—except by two bridges the enemy had burnt. They were well entrenched, pelting us with arrows, lances, and stones. As we were attacked, Cortes was told that a couple of miles away a spot could be found where cavalry might cross. He quickly left for this with the horse, while the rest of us crossed as best we could, climbing hand over hand on branches of trees reaching over the hollow. It was dangerous; three men fell, one breaking his leg, and I grew quite dizzy there. But as soon as twenty or thirty of us, along with many Tlascallans, crossed over, we fell upon the Mexicans’ rear, surprising them, especially as Oli, Alvarado, and Tapia, with most of our cavalry—risking their lives on a nearly burnt-down bridge—arrived at the same moment. The enemy, thinking we were even more numerous than we were, turned and fled into the mountains and ravines beyond our reach. Soon after, Cortes arrived with the rest of the cavalry, and we captured the town unopposed. We took many noble Indian women prisoners and much booty, especially large mantles. Our general allowed the rest of the day for us to rest, and we all found comfortable lodgings in the chief’s garden.

We had barely settled in when our outposts reported twenty Indians approaching, who by their bearing seemed to be either caziques or men of rank, likely bringing a message or seeking peace. Indeed, they were the caziques of the town. They approached Cortes with deep respect, offered gold as a present, and begged forgiveness for their past behavior. As an excuse for not coming earlier, they explained that Quauhtemoctzin had secretly commanded them to treat us as enemies, and that, since their town was a fortified outpost with a Mexican garrison, they could do nothing else. Now, having seen there was no fortification we could not conquer, they sincerely wished to be at peace with us.

Cortes received these caziques graciously, spoke of our emperor and his mercy toward those who willingly submit, and accepted them as subjects. I remember well the remarkable phrase these caziques used then—that our gods, as a punishment for their delayed submission, had authorized their own gods to chastise them and strip them of their property.

## CHAPTER CXLV. {.chapter}
*The terrible thirst we suffered on our further march; our dangerous position at Xochimilco, and the many battles we fought there with the Mexicans, until our return to Tezcuco.*

From Cuernavaca we marched towards Xochimilco, a large town about eleven miles from Mexico, much of which was built over the water. On our way, we took our usual military precautions, passing through a pine forest but unable to find a single drop of water along the route. Our weapons were very heavy, and the day had been extremely hot. By late afternoon, we were nearly parched with thirst, yet there were still several miles ahead—and we did not even know for certain whether the wells that were said to exist further on could be found.

By this point, our entire force was almost worn out with fatigue, and our Tlascallan allies lost all hope after one of their people and an old Spaniard died of thirst. Cortes, seeing the desperate state we were in, ordered us to rest under the trees and sent six of our horsemen ahead on the road leading to Xochimilco to look for a town or village where the wells were said to be, with the intention of camping nearby for the night.

This small cavalry unit, which included Oli, Valdenebro, Truxillo, and other brave men, had barely set out when I slipped away without Cortes or the others noticing, taking with me three young and agile Tlascallan naborias. I followed the three cavalry officers until they noticed me and stopped to wait. They advised me to return immediately so I wouldn't fall into the hands of the Mexicans. However, I would not be deterred, and Oli, with whom I was on friendly terms, finally allowed me to continue with them, advising me to keep my hands ready for fighting or my feet ready for flight. I would have risked my life at that moment just to get a drink, so great was my thirst.

We had gone perhaps two miles in a straight line when we arrived at a number of country houses scattered among the hills, which belonged to Xochimilco. Without delay, our officers entered to search for water, which they found, to their indescribable joy. One of my Tlascallans who had followed inside immediately returned to me with a large earthen jug filled with water, which my servants and I drank eagerly. I then returned to where Cortes had halted with the troops, just in time, as the locals were beginning to gather and followed us with shouts and jeers. I had refilled the jug and given it to one of my Tlascallans to carry. On my way back, I met Cortes, who had gotten the troops moving again. I told him we had found water in a small village nearby and that I had brought him a jugful. My Tlascallans had carefully covered the jug so no one could take it from them—for thirst recognizes no laws. Cortes and his nearby officers were greatly pleased and drank their fill. We then continued on and reached the small village shortly before sunset. There was still some water left in the houses, but not enough for all, so some of the men, needing to at least moisten their mouths, chewed a kind of thistle, whose sharp spines wounded their tongues and lips. The cavalry detachment also returned, reporting they had found the wells where we were to camp for the night, though these were still some distance away, and the whole area was sounding the alarm.

We camped near the wells that night, setting guards as usual and taking every precaution. I myself took a turn on watch, and if I remember right, the wind was very strong, with some rain falling.

Very early the next morning, we marched toward Xochimilco, arriving in front of the town around eight. Here a massive force of the enemy was waiting for us, some stationed in open fields, the rest at a destroyed bridge with large entrenchments nearby. They had attached the swords we lost during our disastrous retreat from Mexico to their lances, and many chiefs carried our polished broadswords. The Mexicans seemed well armed, and the entire plain was packed with warriors.

The battle for the bridges lasted about half an hour. Despite all our gunfire and fierce fighting, we could not force the passage. Our situation became truly dangerous, for large sections of the enemy attacked our rear, leaving us no choice but to cross the water at any cost. We managed this, some swimming, some wading. Several drank so much while crossing that their stomachs swelled up alarmingly. In making our way over, we lost two men and had several wounded; but by force of arms, we drove the enemy along a causeway to the mainland. Cortes, advancing with the cavalry from elsewhere, encountered over 10,000 Mexicans coming to support the town. The Mexicans faced the cavalry charge with levelled lances and wounded four of our horses. Cortes himself became surrounded in the enemy ranks, riding a dark brown horse we called "flatnose." Whether from being too fat or simply exhausted, the horse collapsed under him, and the Mexicans immediately grabbed our general, tore him from the saddle, and began carrying him away. When some of the Tlascallans and the brave Cristobal de Olea saw this, they rushed to his aid, hacking their way through to Cortes and helping him back to his saddle. Cortes escaped with only a head wound, but Olea received three severe injuries.\[17\*\] Those of us nearest hurried over to help the general, for every street was thick with enemies, and we had to attack in separate groups and from different directions, so for a time we totally lost sight of him. But from the terrible shouting, we concluded there was a fierce fight between the Mexicans and our cavalry. We fought our way through the enemy, risking our lives, to where Cortes, surrounded by only ten cavalry, was bravely struggling against the enemy’s desperate attacks. The Mexicans were behind a deep canal strengthened with a palisade, giving them the high ground, but we soon drove them off.

Since Olea, who had saved the general, was badly wounded and had lost much blood, and the streets were still packed with enemies, we advised Cortes to fall back to some entrenchments so our own and Olea’s wounds could be tended. This move was difficult and dangerous, as the Mexicans—thinking we were retreating—attacked us with renewed fury.

In the middle of this second battle, Alvarado, Tapia, and Oli arrived with the main cavalry force, having been fighting at other points. Blood ran down Oli’s face; no one among them had escaped injury. They reported they had faced masses of enemies in open fields and could not drive them back. They had become separated from the rest of the cavalry because, after crossing the water, Cortes had ordered the horse into two groups to attack from different positions.

While we dressed wounds, a deafening uproar rose from the surrounding streets and fields, with the enemy’s wild war music. Our courtyard was suddenly filled with Mexicans, and many more of our men were wounded in moments. But the enemy gained little from this attack; we struck back with such force that many of them soon lay dead. Our cavalry charged among them, killing many more. We lost only one man and had two horses wounded.

We cleared the enemy out of the open square and took a larger one, where there were several great temples and where we could rest more securely. Some of us climbed to the top of these temples, from which we could see Mexico City and the wide lake it dominated; at the same time, we spotted over 2,000 canoes packed with warriors paddling straight toward us.

These forces, under Quauhtemoctzin’s command, were ordered to attack us immediately, giving us no peace night or day. Another 10,000 men were being sent by land to strike us from another direction, and another 10,000 stood ready to relieve the first—so that not a single one of us would escape alive from Xochimilco. We learned all this the next day from five Mexican chiefs we took prisoner. But the Lord Jesus had other plans for us.

As soon as we knew of the approaching fleet of canoes, we became doubly vigilant. Strong detachments were posted where we thought the enemy might land, at all the canals and causeways. Our horses stood saddled, and every officer, including Cortes himself, made rounds through the night, watching the causeways and mainland. I myself was posted with ten men near a stone wall. We had stones, crossbows, muskets, and long lances, and were to keep the enemy from landing there. Other groups were similarly stationed.

As we kept watch, we suddenly heard canoes coming straight for us. We hit them so hard with our slings and lances that they dared not attempt a landing. While one of us went to update Cortes, another, larger group of canoes arrived and attacked us ferociously with lances, stones, and arrows, wounding two of our men. We defended ourselves just as fiercely, and since it was a particularly dark night, the canoes withdrew to rejoin the main fleet, which moved off to another harbour or deeper canal, where the entire force disembarked. Apparently, these troops did not wish to fight at night—they joined the land forces so that together their army grew to over 15,000 men.

I must mention something now, but I hope the reader won’t take it as vanity on my part.

When one of my men went to inform Cortes that a force of Mexican canoes was approaching our post, Cortes was coming toward us with ten cavalry. They came up in silence; Gonzalo Sanchez and I called out, “Who goes there? Can’t you speak up?” and hurled several stones. But Cortes, recognizing our voices, told Alderete, Father Melgarejo, and our quartermaster Cristobal de Oli, who were with him, “I have no worries about this sector; here are two men who came with me when I first arrived in this land, and whom I would trust with a much greater command than this!” He then greeted us himself, noting that our position was extremely dangerous and that we should ask for help if necessary. Hardly had he left when we heard him driving a soldier back to his post, a man who had deserted and who had come with Narvaez.

There’s another point I shouldn’t leave out. In the previous day’s battle, our musketeers had used all their powder and our crossbowmen had run out of arrows. Cortes, therefore, ordered us to gather every arrow we could find and to re-feather and repoint them with our ample supply of materials. Our crossbowmen spent all night at this, under the captain Pedro Barba, with Cortes himself checking in from time to time on their progress.

At dawn, our camp was attacked on all sides by Mexican troops—but as we were always alert for attack, our cavalry rushed out to meet them on the land side, and the rest of us, with the Tlascallans, struck at them from the lake, killing three chiefs and leaving many others fatally wounded. The Tlascallans fought with great courage and captured five Mexican chiefs, from whom we learned exactly how many troops Quauhtemoctzin had sent against us.

We lost only one man, though many were wounded.

The battle was not over, however; for when our cavalry pursued the enemy, they ran into the 10,000 warriors Quauhtemoctzin had sent for support. Several of their leaders carried our Spanish swords and bragged that we would be beaten with our own weapons.

Our small cavalry force did not dare attack such a large enemy and withdrew to one side, waiting for Cortes and the others to catch up. When our general learned of their perilous situation, he immediately sallied out with the rest of the cavalry, who had remained in the courtyard due to their wounds, as well as all our foot soldiers and the Tlascallan allies. What followed was a terrible and stubborn battle, but eventually, through sheer fighting, we drove the enemy back with heavy losses. Eight notable Mexicans were captured, from whom we learned that Quauhtemoctzin had dispatched another fleet of canoes and more troops by land. He expected these to take us by surprise, complete the victory after we had been worn down in all these battles, and finish us off.

Learning this, we became even more careful; our general resolved to leave the town the following morning, not wishing to risk another attack. We spent the rest of our time tending wounds and repairing our weapons.

During this period, some prisoners from Xochimilco pointed out to the Tlascallans several houses belonging to wealthy citizens, where many valuables—feathered cotton goods, women’s shifts, gold, and so forth—were hidden. These houses stood in the lake but could be reached by a causeway and over two or three bridges. The Tlascallans shared this information with some of our men, who quickly went over and, finding the houses unguarded and as reported, loaded up as much as they could carry and returned with a handsome haul. When other soldiers saw the spoils, they too went to these houses and were busy opening chests full of treasures when a fleet of Mexican canoes arrived carrying many troops. The Mexicans quickly attacked, wounding most of the plunderers and carrying off four alive to Mexico. It was a wonder anyone escaped at all. Two of the four Spaniards were Juan de Lara and Alonso Hernandez; the other two belonged to the company under Andreas de Monjaraz, but I have forgotten their names.

These unlucky men were brought before Quauhtemoctzin, who questioned them about the size of our force, the number of wounded, and the purpose of our expedition. Satisfied with the information, he ordered their arms and legs chopped off, sending them to towns that had made peace with Cortes, along with the message that he hoped to kill us all before we escaped to Tezcuco—and with our hearts and blood he would make a savory offering to his idols.

Quauhtemoctzin then sent a large fleet of canoes full of men, and a considerable land army, to Xochimilco, with strict orders not to let a single one of us leave alive.

Rather than tire the reader with all the details of the battles we fought in these four days, I will just say that as soon as it was light, a great multitude of Mexicans attacked us from the lake, from the streets, and from the mainland, so that with great effort we barely cut our way through to a large square just outside the town, where the market was usually held. There we paused briefly with our baggage to organize the order of march.

Before we left this place, Cortes spoke a few words, reminding us of our perilous situation and how we must still pass several dangerous spots where all the Mexican armies were waiting for us. He urged that we leave behind as much baggage as possible, as it would only hinder us in battle.

All of us replied that we would defend our baggage, ourselves, and his person, if God protected us. It was a small sacrifice compared to the duty we owed him. Seeing us so resolute, Cortes commended us to God and organized our march: the wounded and baggage in the center; half the cavalry as vanguard and half as rearguard; the crossbowmen and Tlascallans arranged the same way, as the Mexicans always targeted the baggage first. The musketeers were useless, having no powder left.

In this manner, we set off. As soon as the Mexicans saw us leaving the square, they assumed we were fleeing—rightly so, as we were—and surged after us, wounding two more men and attacking our center to seize our baggage. But our tight formation thwarted their effort.

Throughout the march to Cojohuacan, about eight miles from Xochimilco, we skirmished constantly with the Mexicans, who took every chance to attack with lances, stones, and arrows, then retreated across the canals, out of our reach. Around ten in the morning, we reached Cojohuacan, finding it deserted.

I should say that several towns encircle Mexico at about eight miles’ distance from each other: Xochimilco, Cojohuacan, Iztapalapan, Chohuilobusco, Quauhnahuac, Mizquic, and three or four more are half built in the lake, and none are farther apart than six to eight miles—which explains how the Mexicans could gather such enormous forces against us at Xochimilco.

Arriving in this empty town, we dressed our wounds, restocked our arrows, and took a well-needed rest, knowing still more fighting awaited us before we reached Tezcuco.

Very early the next morning, we marched again towards Tlacupa, about eight miles further on. Large groups of the enemy attacked us at three points along the way; each time we drove them back to their canoes in the canals and inlets.

On one occasion, Cortes left the main body with ten cavalry, including four of his grooms, to ambush the Mexicans, who were constantly surprising us from the lake’s inlets. He attacked and routed one group, but, after a short pursuit, fell into a larger ambush himself. The enemy attacked, wounding two of his men, and he and his company would surely have been killed or captured if he had not retreated immediately. The Mexicans captured two of his grooms, bringing them before Quauhtemoctzin and eventually sacrificing them to their gods.

Meanwhile, the main body of our army reached Tlacupa with flags flying, but only Cortes with his ten horsemen lagged behind, causing us to fear disaster. Alvarado, Oli, and Tapia, with a strong force, went back along the route he had taken. They soon encountered the two grooms who’d escaped, who told them they owed their lives to a hasty retreat and that Cortes, delayed by his wounded horse, was following behind. Not long after, the general appeared, to everyone’s relief, but he was extremely distressed at the loss of his two grooms, nearly to tears.

Just as Cortes entered Tlacupa, a heavy rain began, so we rested for a couple of hours in a large square. Cortes, along with several officers, Treasurer Alderete (who became ill here), Father Melgarejo, and some soldiers including myself, climbed to the top of the main temple. From there we viewed Mexico and the surrounding towns in the lake. Father Melgarejo and Alderete were so amazed by the scene they could barely speak; seeing the city's grandeur, the countless canoes transporting goods or food, and others fishing, they said it was clear our coming to New Spain could not have been possible solely by human power, but by the great mercy of Providence our lives had been spared. They had commented before that no monarch had received such loyalty as we had shown our emperor; now they were more convinced than ever, and determined to report everything to his majesty.

Father Melgarejo then consoled our general for the loss of his two grooms, which affected him deeply. As we gazed at Mexico, we recognized again those places now so memorable to us, pointing out the great temple of Huitzilopochtli, the Tlatelulco, and the causeways and bridges we had used during our disastrous retreat. At that moment, Cortes sighed more deeply over his two missing grooms, who had been captured alive. And, from that day, our soldiers began to sing the romance that starts—

“En Tacuba está Cortes 
Con su esquadrón esforzado,

Triste estaba y muy penoso
Triste y con gran cuidado,
La una mano en la mejilla
Y la otra en el costado,” etc.

As our general was standing there in deep contemplation, the bachelor Alonso Perez, who was appointed fiscal after the conquest of New Spain and lived in Mexico, approached him and said, “General, you shouldn't give yourself up to such grief; it’s always like this in times of war, and no one will ever have cause to sing of you as they did of Nero,—

‘Mira Nero de Tarpeya 
A Roma como se ardía, 
Gritos dan niños y viejos, 
Y él de nada se dolía.’”

To this, Cortes replied, “How many times have I offered peace to that city! But that is not the only reason for my grief; I am also thinking of the horrible events we will have to endure before we can subdue this place. Yet, with God’s help, we will prevail.”

I must now leave aside these discussions and stories; indeed, the moment was ill-suited for such things. Our officers then debated whether we should march a short distance along the causeway near Tlacopa. But since we had no powder left and only a few arrows, most of our men were wounded, and because a previous attempt by Cortes on this same causeway, a month earlier, had ended very badly, it was decided we should keep moving, lest the Mexicans attack us that day or during the night. Given our nearness to the city, Quauhtemoctzin could easily send troops against us at any moment. We therefore left our quarters and marched on to Escapuzalco, which we found completely deserted. From there, we went to Tenayucan, or the town of Serpents, as we called it (the reader will recall my earlier explanation of that name). The inhabitants of this place had also fled. Next, we reached Quauhtitlan, and heavy rain poured down all day so that we could barely move our feet under the weight of drenched armor and clothing.

It was completely dark when we arrived at this town, which was also deserted. The rain poured all night, turning everything into mud and mire. The inhabitants and Mexicans, who had fled where we couldn’t reach them, jeered at us continuously from evening through the night until morning. Because the night was so dark and the heavy rain falling, we posted no sentries or patrols; there was only disorder in our camp and no one remained on duty. I can confirm this from experience, as the first watch was assigned to me, but no officer made rounds or checked on things.

The next day we marched on to a large township whose name I have forgotten. The streets were muddy and not a person was in sight. The following morning, we reached Aculman, subject to Tezcuco; the people there, having learned of our approach, came out to meet us. They were joined by several Spaniards who had arrived from Spain while we were away. Sandoval, with his troops, and Don Fernando, king of Tezcuco, also came out to greet us. Everyone was overjoyed at our return, especially the local people, who brought us abundant food supplies.

Sandoval returned that same day to Tezcuco, fearing that the enemy might attack during the night. The following morning, Cortes also left for that city. We arrived completely exhausted and wounded, and we mourned the loss of many brave companions whom the Mexicans had captured alive and sacrificed to their idols. I will now tell the reader what a dangerous situation awaited us at Tezcuco.

## CHAPTER CXLVI. {.chapter}
*How we discovered, on our return to Tezcuco, that a conspiracy had been started by the men of Narvaez’s troops to murder Cortes and all his party; about the author of this conspiracy, his punishment, and other matters.*

During our absence, a conspiracy had been started by a close friend of the governor of Cuba, named Antonio de Villafaña—a native of either Zamora or Toro—along with others from Narvaez’s troops, whose names I will keep silent out of respect. The purpose was to murder Cortes upon his return, and their plan was as follows.

The conspirators intended to deliver a letter to Cortes while he was dining with his officers and other soldiers. The letter, properly sealed, was to appear as if it came from his father on a ship just arrived from Spain. While Cortes was reading it, he and all the officers and soldiers at the table who resisted were to be stabbed to death.

All this being arranged, it pleased God that the conspirators also confided in two other distinguished officers, whose names I will also withhold. Both had accompanied us on our recent campaign around the lake, and one of them was to be appointed captain-general after Cortes had been killed. In the same way, the other main positions and all our property and horses had already been assigned by the conspirators. However, God in his mercy prevented this terrible act from happening; it would surely have caused ongoing division, the irreversible loss of New Spain, and the destruction of our troops. The whole conspiracy was revealed to Cortes by a soldier just a couple of days after he returned to Tezcuco, giving him enough time to take action before things got out of hand. The honest man who told him this added that there were people of rank among the conspirators.

After rewarding this man generously, Cortes shared the matter, under strict confidentiality, with the officers Alvarado, Oli, Lugo, Sandoval, Tapia, and myself; with the two alcaldes for the year, and others he trusted. He ordered us to arm ourselves immediately and then went with us to Antonio de Villafaña’s quarters.

When we entered, we found Villafaña talking with several conspirators, and the four alguacils with us immediately arrested him. The others ran away on the spot, but Cortes had many of them captured soon after. With Villafaña in our hands, Cortes reached into his clothes and pulled out a paper detailing the entire conspiracy, listing all the names. Reading through it, he found the names of several important men; wanting to save them from disgrace, Cortes later claimed that Villafaña had swallowed the paper and that he neither read nor even saw it.

A criminal trial was held; Villafaña and others implicated confessed everything. Cortes, the two alcaldes, and the quartermaster Oli, acting as a court-martial, found Villafaña guilty and sentenced him to be hanged; after confessing to father Juan Diaz, he was executed in front of his quarters.

Here, Cortes let the matter rest, though several conspirators were kept in close confinement, and, to frighten them, there were appearances as if they too would be executed like Villafaña. However, our general wished to preserve their honor, and it was also not the moment for strict justice.

From then on, our general kept a bodyguard: Captain Antonio de Quiñones, from Zamora, and twelve trustworthy men who stayed near him day and night. He also requested the rest of us whom he trusted to watch over his safety. Nevertheless, he never showed animosity to the other conspirators in future dealings but always took care to stay vigilant around them.

When this miserable business was over, we were told to bring in the prisoners taken during our expedition around the lake, to be branded within two days. Not to dwell on this, I will simply state, for the third time, that we were cheated even more disgracefully than before. First, the emperor’s fifth was taken, then those of Cortes, and after that, our chief officers took their share. If any of us had an Indian woman who was handsome or strong, we would bring her to be branded, then sneak her away and make sure not to show her again for a long while. Many of our slaves were thus never branded, yet we still used them as our naborias.

## CHAPTER CXLVII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes issues orders to the inhabitants of all the nearby townships allied with us to supply us with arrows and copper points, and what else took place at our headquarters.*

Our brigantines were now nearly ready; they just needed to be rigged. Each brigantine had spare oars made for emergencies. The canal for launching and conveying these vessels to the lake was now deep and wide enough for the purpose. Cortes now made active preparations for the siege of Mexico. He sent orders to all the townships near Tezcuco, who were our allies, that each was to provide 8,000 copper arrow points modeled on our Spanish ones (with samples sent for them to copy) and the same number of arrows made from specially suitable wood, again with samples sent for their guidance. They were given eight days to make and deliver these, and the arrows and copper points did arrive in Tezcuco in time. Our total stock now stood at 50,000 pieces, and the natives’ arrow points were even better than those from Spain.

Cortes then ordered Pedro Barba, commander of the crossbowmen, to distribute the arrows and copper points among his men and ensure that every man properly fastened the points to the arrows and glued the feathers firmly in place. Every crossbowman was to have two strong, tightly twisted bowstrings, plus spare nuts for the bows in case one snapped or flew off. The crossbowmen were also to practice shooting at earth mounds to test their bows’ strength. Special care was taken that they had no shortage of Valencian string to twist their bow cords, since Juan Burgos’ ship had just arrived from Spain loaded with such string, as well as bows, powder, muskets, other arms, and a supply of horseshoes. In the same way, our cavalry were told to equip themselves, have their horses freshly shod, and to practice all kinds of cavalry maneuvers daily.

Cortes then notified the elder Xicotencatl, his two sons, and Chichimeclatecl, to let them know that after the feast of Corpus Christi we would march from Tezcuco and begin the siege of Mexico. He requested them to send 20,000 warriors from their nation, as well as from Huexotzinco and Cholula, all now allied together. But it was hardly necessary to inform the Tlaxcalans—they were always kept up to date by their countrymen who traveled with us and returned home with their share of loot. The people of Tlalmanalco and Chalco were likewise asked to be ready to march out at a moment’s notice. These and all our other allies were told the day we planned to begin operations against Mexico. From every side, we received friendly assurances of support, and the pledge that Cortes’ commands would be fully obeyed.

## CHAPTER CXLVIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes reviews all his troops at Tezcuco; and of his further preparations for the siege of Mexico.*

After Cortes had informed our allies of his plans against Mexico, he decided to review all his troops, selecting the second day of Easter for this purpose. The review was held in the large square of Tezcuco, and our muster-roll recorded the following numbers: eighty-four horsemen; six hundred and fifty foot soldiers, some armed with swords and shields, others with lances; and one hundred and ninety-four crossbowmen and musketeers.

From these troops, he selected the men who would serve on the thirteen brigantines; each required twelve rowers and a captain, along with twelve crossbowmen and musketeers. Thus, the thirteen brigantines required two hundred and eighty men, who, together with the artillerymen, totaled three hundred and twenty-five. The cannons and required powder were then distributed among the ships; and when all was prepared, Cortes announced the articles of war, which stated:

First, it was strictly forbidden, under severe penalty, to blaspheme against our Lord Jesus Christ, his blessed mother, the holy apostles, or any of the saints.

Second, no one was to mistreat any of our allies or take anything from them—not even any booty they might acquire, whether gold, silver, jewels, or anything else; for we must remember that they joined us in this war at our specific request.

Third, no man, either by day or by night, was to leave our headquarters, whether to obtain provisions from any town allied to us or for any other reason. Anyone found guilty would be severely punished.

Fourth, every soldier was to supply himself with enough arms and keep them in proper condition; for we should not forget how well the Mexicans were supplied with weapons.

Fifth, gambling for horses or weapons was strictly forbidden.

Lastly, no man, no matter which company he belonged to, was to lie down to rest unless he was fully armed and kept his shoes on. Only in cases of urgent necessity, such as severe wounds or being unable to serve, was an exception allowed; for we needed to be ready to face the enemy at a moment’s notice.

Along with these rules, the usual articles of war were again read out, including, among other things, the threat of death for any sentinel who deserted his post or fell asleep while on duty. The same punishment applied to any soldier who left his quarters without his captain’s permission or who deserted his commanding officer in a moment of danger and fled.

## CHAPTER CXLIX. {.chapter}
*How Cortes selects the men who were to row the brigantines; the commanders appointed to each, and other related matters.*

When Cortes went about selecting the men to serve on the brigantines, he found he did not have enough sailors to row them. All the sailors who had come with us, with Narvaez, and with the vessels recently arrived from Jamaica had been properly noted, but even so, their number was insufficient. Besides, many of them refused to do this work, insisting it was unreasonable to be made into rowers.

Cortes then looked to those who went fishing daily, discovering they mostly came from Palos, Moguer, Triana, or other coastal towns known for producing excellent sailors. All these men were ordered, under threat of severe punishment, to serve immediately on the brigantines. Many, especially of noble birth, complained to our general, saying it was beneath them to do such work. But Cortes showed no favoritism, and in this way he gathered one hundred and fifty expert rowers, who indeed had an easier time than we who fought on the causeways, and received a much larger share of the spoils, as will be shown later.

Once each brigantine was fully equipped for action, Cortes ordered that a flag displaying the royal arms be hoisted, along with a second flag showing the vessel’s number. The following commanders were appointed: Pedro Barba, Garcia Holguin, Juan de Limpias, the deaf Carvajal, Juan Xaramillo, Geronimo de la Mota, the other Carvajal (now living to an advanced age on San Francisco street), a certain Portillo, an excellent soldier who had just arrived from Spain with a beautiful wife; the naval captain Zamora, currently living in Guaxaca; a certain Colmero, skilled both as a sailor and a soldier; also Lerma, Gines, Nortes, Briones of Salamanca, Miguel Diaz de Auz, and one other officer whose name I cannot recall.

The crews were strictly ordered to obey their commanders without question, and anyone who left his vessel faced harsh punishment. Each commander then received instructions on how to cooperate with the land forces.

Just as all these matters were arranged, Cortes received news that the Tlascallan chiefs were arriving with a large force of Tlascallans and Huexotzincans. The chief command was given to the younger Xicotencatl—the same who had led against us in our battles with Tlascalla. His two brothers accompanied him, the younger sons of the illustrious Don Lorenzo de Vargas. One of Cholulla’s chiefs also arrived, but with a small force; though the Cholullans had ended their alliance with Mexico after we punished them severely, they never maintained the best relations with us. Indeed, it seemed they waited to see how events would unfold, choosing to join the winning side at the last moment. After our disastrous retreat from Mexico, they nearly declared against us.

When Cortes learned of Xicotencatl’s approach, who arrived a day earlier than planned, he went out with Alvarado and several officers about a mile from Tezcuco to greet them joyfully. Xicotencatl and his men advanced in their finest attire and in the best order. Every company had a standard embroidered with a white bird with spread wings—the arms of Tlascalla—resembling an eagle. Each man had a bunch of plumes on his head; their band played war music, their flags waved, and they continually shouted, “Long live the emperor, our master! Spain forever! Tlascalla forever!”

It took about three hours for all these troops to enter the town, and our general ensured they received good quarters and the best food available. Once they had arrived, he welcomed them again warmly, promised to enrich them all, and asked them to rest, saying he would assign their duties the next day.

Almost at the same moment these Tlascallans were entering Tezcuco, a letter arrived for Cortes from Hernando de Barrientos, who was at Chinantla, about 360 miles from Mexico. Barrientos reported that while exploring the mines—having stayed behind for that purpose by order of Pizarro—the Mexicans attacked him and killed three companions. He alone managed to escape to the people of Chinantla, who were enemies of the Mexicans. These were the same people who had supplied us with the long lances in our battle against Narvaez.

Without repeating every detail from this letter, I will note that Cortes replied that he was about to lay siege to Mexico, and advised Barrientos to remain on good terms with the local chiefs and not to leave until he received further instructions from headquarters; otherwise, he risked being killed by the Mexicans on the road.

## CHAPTER CL. {.chapter}
*On Cortes’ continued preparations for the siege.*

Cortes now divided all our troops into three divisions. The first division, made up of one hundred and fifty infantry—well armed with swords and shields—thirty horsemen, and eighteen musketeers and crossbowmen, was commanded by Alvarado. Under him, Guiterrez de Badajoz, Andreas de Monjaraz, and Jorge de Alvarado each led fifty men and a third of the musketeers and crossbowmen, with the cavalry under Alvarado’s direct command. This division was reinforced by 8,000 Tlascallans, and Alvarado—whose division I was also part of—received orders to take position in the town of Tlacupa. Cortes especially advised us to equip ourselves with good weapons, helmets, gorgets, and steel leg armor to protect ourselves from the Mexicans’ deadly weapons. These precautions were indeed necessary, but even with our armor, hardly a day passed without some of our men being killed or wounded by the enemy.

The second division was placed under the command of Oli, and included thirty horsemen, one hundred and sixty-five infantry, and twenty crossbowmen and musketeers. Andreas de Tapia, Verdugo, and Lugo served as his sub-commanders, with Oli himself leading the cavalry. This division, also joined by 8,000 Tlascallans, was to occupy the town of Cojohuacan, about eight miles from Tlacupa.

Sandoval commanded the third division, consisting of twenty-four horsemen, fourteen crossbowmen and musketeers, and one hundred and fifty infantry with swords and shields. This division was reinforced with 8,000 Indians from Chalco, Huexotzinco, and other allied towns. Cortes appointed Luis Marin and Pedro de Ircio, two of Sandoval's close friends, to command under him, with Sandoval himself leading the cavalry. This division was to position itself near Iztapalapan, with orders to attack and inflict as much damage as possible until further instructions. Sandoval remained at Tezcuco until Cortes was about to board, as Cortes himself took chief command of the brigantines, which carried a total of 325 men. Thus, Sandoval, Oli, and Alvarado each set off to a different position: one to the left, another to the right; and to someone unfamiliar with the layout of the town or the surrounding lake, it might seem the divisions were moving away from a central point instead of converging on it. Each captain received specific instructions for his operations, and our departure was set for the following morning.

To minimize delays, we sent the entire Tlascallan force ahead to the Mexican frontiers. These troops marched out in good spirits under their leader Chichimeclatecl and other officers, but soon realized that their commander-in-chief, the younger Xicotencatl, had stayed behind. After much searching, it was discovered that he had secretly returned to Tlascalla the previous night, attempting to seize the caziquedom and territory of Chichimeclatecl by force. According to the Tlascallans, he sought to use this opportunity—Chichimeclatecl's absence—to take supreme power in his country, believing only Chichimeclatecl stood in his way since Maxixcatzin's death, as he did not expect opposition from his aged, blind father. The Tlascallans further claimed that Xicotencatl never truly intended to join our war against Mexico, and had often warned them it would end in disaster for us all.

When Chichimeclatecl learned of this, he immediately returned to Tezcuco to inform Cortes. On hearing this, our general sent five distinguished Tezcuco nobles and two Tlascallans, who were close friends of his, to request Xicotencatl's immediate return to his troops, in Cortes’ name. They were to remind him that his father Lorenzo de Vargas would surely have marched against Mexico himself if not for age and blindness; that all Tlascalla remained loyal to the king; and that a revolt would disgrace his own country. Cortes instructed them to make generous promises to persuade him to return to obedience. Xicotencatl, however, haughtily refused, insisting he would stand by his decision, and claiming that our dominion would not have lasted this long if his father and Maxixcatzin had followed his advice.

At this, our general ordered an alguacil to hurry to Xicotencatl’s home, accompanied by four of our horsemen and five Tezcuco dignitaries, to arrest and hang him without delay. “Kindness,” Cortes remarked, “is wasted on this chief. He continually schemes and causes trouble. I can tolerate this no longer; the situation is critical.”

Once Alvarado heard of these orders, he urgently pleaded with Cortes to pardon Xicotencatl. Cortes said he would consider it, but secretly gave the alguacil direct orders to have him executed, which was done. Xicotencatl was hanged in a town loyal to Tezcuco, putting an end to his intrigues. Many Tlascallans later assured us that the elder Xicotencatl had himself warned Cortes about his son, and advised that he be put to death.

This incident delayed our departure from Tezcuco by a day; thus, we set out only on May 13, 1521. Since our routes coincided for a good distance, the divisions under Alvarado and Oli set out together. The first night, we camped in Alcuman, where Oli had sent men ahead to arrange quarters and had ordered the houses they occupied be marked with green branches. When Alvarado’s group arrived, we found every house taken, and both divisions were on the brink of drawing swords over it when officers intervened and prevented a fight. However, the slight was not easily forgotten. When this incident reached Cortes, he sent Father Melgarejo and Luis Marin to us with letters for every officer and soldier, scolding us for quarreling and urging us to keep peace. From then on, Alvarado and Oli were never as friendly as before.

The next morning, both divisions resumed marching, and camped that night in a Mexican-ruled town, which was empty of inhabitants. The same was true in Quauhtitlan, where we spent the next night.

Tenayucan and Escapuzalco, through which we passed the following day, were also deserted. Our Tlascallan allies searched every house, bringing back supplies. We took all necessary military precautions that night, as we were now close to Mexico. We could clearly hear the Mexicans, crowded in canoes on the lake and along the causeways, shouting and challenging us to battle. Their aim was to lure us into attacking at night, when they would have had a clear advantage. Having learned our lesson from a previous disaster, we wisely stayed quiet until morning, which was a Sunday.

After Father Juan Diaz said mass, we commended ourselves to God’s protection, and both divisions advanced to cut off the Chapultepec aqueduct—about two miles from Tlacupa—that supplied water to Mexico. On the way, we met multiple groups of Mexicans, who had learned this would be our first move against Mexico. The enemy had the advantage of terrain and attacked us fiercely with lances, arrows, and stones, wounding three of our men. However, we soon drove them off, and the Tlascallans pursued them, killing twenty and capturing seven or eight more. We were then able to destroy the aqueduct without further resistance, cutting off this essential water source to Mexico throughout the siege.

Afterward, our officers decided to attempt an assault on one of the bridges on the causeway from Tlacupa. We had barely started along the causeway when many canoes, crowded with troops, rapidly approached from both sides, while large enemy forces marched up the causeway toward us, leaving us alarmed at their numbers. In the first clash, thirty of our men were wounded and three were killed. Still, we fought our way to the first bridge. The Mexicans, as we later learned, intended us to cross, for as soon as we did, we were swarmed by immense crowds, making it impossible to move. What could we do on a causeway only eight paces wide, attacked from all sides? Our crossbowmen and musketeers kept up steady fire on the canoes, but this caused little harm: the enemy had set up boards along their canoes to shield themselves. The enemy on the causeway itself we pushed back each time into the water, but reinforcements arrived too quickly for us to gain ground. Our cavalry was of no use, and the horses were exposed on both sides, many being wounded. If our cavalry tried to chase the enemy into the water, they encountered hidden palisades where the enemy retreated, and thrust at our horses with long lances tipped with the very swords we lost during our retreat from Mexico.

The battle raged for over an hour, the enemy returning to the attack with such determination that at last, we could hold out no longer. Worse yet, we saw another large fleet of canoes arriving with reinforcements ordered to attack our rear. We therefore decided to retreat along the causeway, ordering the Tlascallans to withdraw first so we could maintain good order during our retreat. This caused us some difficulty, as Tlascallans are famously unable to fight while standing in water.

As soon as the Mexicans saw us turning back and the Tlascallans leaving the causeway, they raised an awful clamor and attacked us fiercely, man to man. I cannot describe it fully. The entire causeway was instantly covered with lances, arrows, and stones, many falling into the water. Reaching the mainland, we gave thanks to God for delivering us from such a fierce battle.

Eight of our men were killed and fifty wounded. On top of this, we had to endure the enemy’s taunts, who called for the Tlascallans to bring twice as many men next time, vowing to quickly humble their pride. Our first feats in this campaign were simply the destruction of the Chapultepec aqueduct and a reconnaissance along the causeway, which gained us little honor.

That night we rested quietly in our quarters, set guards, and tended to our wounds. One of our horses was so badly wounded it died soon afterwards.

The next morning, Oli decided to take the position assigned his division at Cojohuacan, about six miles further. Though Alvarado and the other captains begged him not to divide the forces, he would not change his mind. Christobal de Oli was a man of uncommon bravery, but he was stung by the previous day’s failure on the causeway and blamed Alvarado for acting rashly. Nothing could persuade him to stay, so he marched off with his men to Cojohuacan.

The splitting of the two divisions was very unwise at this point. If the Mexicans had known how small our numbers were and attacked either division before the brigantines arrived in the next five days, we could hardly have escaped destruction. Both divisions remained as quiet as possible, though the enemy troubled us daily—landing troops to annoy us, trying to lure us into spots where they could attack to greater advantage.

As noted, Sandoval left Tezcuco with his division four days after Corpus Christi, heading for Iztapalapan. He passed through towns loyal to or allied with Tezcuco. Upon reaching Iztapalapan, he began operations by burning much of the housing on the mainland.

Soon, large Mexican forces arrived to defend Iztapalapan, leading to a sharp fight with Sandoval, who drove them back to their canoes. Still, they continued to shoot arrows and darts at his men, wounding several.

During this struggle, thick smoke rose from signal fires on the surrounding hills—a call for all the canoes from Mexico and neighboring lake towns, as Cortes had just launched from Tezcuco with the thirteen brigantines.

Cortes’ first attack with his fleet was against a rocky height on an island near Mexico, which the Mexicans had strongly fortified and garrisoned. All the canoes from Mexico, Xochimilco, Cojohuacan, Huitzilopuzco, Iztapalapan, and Mexicalzinco joined to oppose Cortes, which is why the attack against Sandoval was less intense. However, Sandoval could not inflict much damage, as most houses were built in the water, although in the initial assault our allies captured many prisoners. In Iztapalapan, Sandoval found himself on a peninsula in the lake, and the only way to reach Cojohuacan was along a causeway across the lake, which exposed him to enemy attacks from both sides and gave him little advantage.

When Cortes saw the massive number of canoes gathering around the brigantines—over 4,000—he became concerned, and for good reason. He abandoned his attack on the rock, choosing instead a position where he could monitor all enemy movements and maneuver freely. He ordered his brigantine commanders not to attack the canoes until the wind, which had begun blowing from shore, grew stronger. When the Mexicans saw our fleet moving away, they believed it was due to fear and rushed forward in their canoes to attack. Suddenly, a strong wind arose: our rowers pulled with all their might, and Cortes ordered the brigantines straight into the canoes. Many were sunk, many of the enemy killed or wounded, and the rest quickly retreated among the houses on the lake, where the brigantines could not follow. This was our first naval battle, and thanks to God, Cortes was victorious.

After this engagement, Cortes moved toward Cojohuacan, where Oli had established his position. There, large enemy forces ambushed him, trying to seize two brigantines, attacking from canoes and temple rooftops. Cortes responded with cannon fire, killing many. The artillerymen fired so constantly that they ran out of powder, and some burned their faces and hands. Cortes then sent the smallest brigantine to Iztapalapan to fetch all the powder Sandoval had, with instructions not to leave his position under any circumstances. Cortes himself stayed with Oli for two more days, during which the enemy kept attacking without pause.

Now I must also mention what happened at this time in Tlacupa, where I was stationed with Alvarado.

Upon hearing that Cortes had launched with the brigantines, we advanced up our causeway to the bridge, but more cautiously this time. Our cavalry formed the vanguard, while the rest of us moved in a close body to the bridge, with the crossbowmen and musketeers maintaining constant fire. Thus we renewed the attack daily, repairing gaps in the causeway, but lost three men in the process.

Meanwhile, the enemy did considerable damage to Sandoval’s men from the rooftops of houses in the water, so he resolved to target those he could reach. Quauhtemoctzin then sent a large force to assist the town, ordering them to cut through the causeway in Sandoval’s rear. Upon seeing many canoes heading toward Iztapalapan, Cortes directed the brigantines there and ordered Oli’s whole division to march along the causeway to support. They found the Mexicans busy cutting through the causeway and concluded Sandoval was attacking the houses in the water. Sure enough, they found him engaged with the enemy, who retreated at the approach of the brigantines.

Cortes now ordered Sandoval to leave Iztapalapan and take up position at Tepeaquilla, in front of the causeway leading to Mexico. Tepeaquilla is now the site dedicated to Our Lady of Guadaloupe, where so many miracles have happened and still happen today.

## CHAPTER CLI. {.chapter}
*How Cortes assigns particular stations to the twelve brigantines, the thirteenth being considered unfit for service.*

Cortes, our officers, and all the troops were now convinced that it was impossible to advance into the city along the causeways unless we were protected on each side by a couple of the brigantines. Our general therefore assigned four of these to Alvarado’s division, kept six with him at his headquarters where Oli was stationed, and sent the remaining two to Sandoval. The smallest brigantine was deemed too slight to withstand the big canoes, so it was withdrawn from service, and its crew distributed among the other twelve brigantines.

When the brigantines arrived at our position, Alvarado placed two on each side of the causeway to cover us as we advanced to attack the bridges. We now fought more effectively than before because the brigantines kept away the canoes and prevented them from attacking our flanks. This allowed us to force some of the bridges and destroy several enemy entrenchments. The battles remained intense—even more so—for the Mexicans made excellent use of their lances, arrows, and slings. Though our jackets were thickly quilted with cotton, most of us were wounded and the enemy maintained their attack until nightfall. They had the advantage of being able to rotate their troops, constantly bringing in fresh men, and could launch countless stones, arrows, and lances at our brigantines from the rooftops. The word “shower” barely conveys the intensity of this barrage; only those present could truly know its force. If we managed, with immense effort, to force an entrenchment or a bridge and then failed to place a strong detachment to guard it, the enemy returned at night, made another opening in the causeway, built larger entrenchments, and dug deep pits which instantly filled with water. These they lightly covered over so that we would sink into them during the next day’s battle—at which point the canoes would quickly appear, seize the opportunity, and make prisoners of our men. Many canoes remained hidden, out of reach of our brigantines, but always close enough to intervene when needed. The enemy also ingeniously tried to neutralize our brigantines by driving numerous stakes into the water just below the surface. It was often impossible for our vessels to avoid hitting these, leaving us stuck and vulnerable to attacks from the canoes.

As I mentioned before, the cavalry were of little use on the causeways. Whenever they pushed the Mexicans back to the bridges, the enemy would leap into the water and retreat behind entrenchments they had built on the causeway, where fresh bodies of men stood ready to receive them, armed with very long lances and other projectiles that caused serious harm to our horses. Because of the risk, and since a horse was selling for 800 to 1,000 pesos at the time, the owners were very reluctant to endanger them in such a one-sided fight.

When night finally released us from enemy attacks, we returned to camp and tended to our wounds, dressing them with oil-soaked bandages. There was also a soldier among us named Juan Catalan who healed wounds by charming them; the Lord Jesus blessed his efforts so that he was always successful. Without him, if all our wounded soldiers had remained behind after each day’s battle, no company would have been able to muster more than twenty men for the next sally. When our Tlascallan allies saw how this man healed wounds and how many applied for his help, they too brought all their wounded to him. They were so numerous that tending their wounds became his sole occupation.

Our officers and ensigns were most exposed to enemy missiles and were more frequently wounded; consequently, fresh men had to be appointed daily to carry our battered colors. With all these hardships, one might hope at least for plenty of food—but even this was denied us. We would have considered ourselves lucky to have some nourishing food for the wounded; but we did not even have a cake of maize. Our misery was great! To keep ourselves alive, we ate herbs and cherries, and eventually survived only on wild figs. Cortes and Sandoval's divisions fared no better, and the Mexicans kept up the attack on them from morning to night. Every single day we had to fight our way up the bridges along the causeway, for at dawn the Mexicans and the troops from other towns around the lake—summoned by signals from the great temple of Huitzilopochtli—would rush out at us from land and water.

The besieged operated with perfect organization, coordinating where each group would attack.

We soon realized that our daily efforts to advance along the causeway cost us dearly in men and gained us little, since the Mexicans would reclaim the ground at night. So, we decided to change strategy and occupy a more spacious section of the causeway where several towers stood, providing a better place to spend the night—even though we were miserably off and exposed to rain and the scorching sun without shelter. The women who baked our bread had to stay behind in Tlacupa under protection of our cavalry and the Tlascallans, who also guarded our rear so the enemy wouldn’t attack us from the mainland. With these precautions in place, we focused on taking houses in the suburbs and the intervening canals. As soon as we secured a canal, we filled it in and pulled down the houses—which was difficult by fire, as they stood alone in the water. We suffered most from attacks from the rooftops, so by destroying these houses we gained a significant advantage. Whenever we captured an entrenchment, bridge, or other strong point, it had to be permanently occupied by the troops, organized as follows: each company took turns—one from evening to midnight, the next from midnight until a couple of hours before dawn, and the third from then until morning, when forty fresh men replaced them. The watches were regularly relieved, but none left the post; instead, as new soldiers arrived the previous watch would lie on the ground and rest, so that at sunrise, 120 men were always on hand for action. On nights when we expected a sudden attack, all the men turned out and remained under arms. We had every reason to be on guard, for several Mexican officers we captured told us that Quauhtemoctzin and his generals planned a sudden day or night assault on our causeway camp. After destroying us, they hoped to seize the other two causeways occupied by Sandoval and Cortes, with the nine towns of the lake plus Tlacupa, Escapuzalco, and Tenayucan assisting them. While attacking us on all sides, they also intended to take the women and supplies we had left behind in Tlacupa.

Upon receiving this information, we immediately sent warning to the Tlascallans and cavalry at Tlacupa, instructing them to be extra vigilant and keep constant watch day and night. It was not long before the enemy acted on this plan: around midnight, a huge force attacked, followed by another wave two hours later, and a third with the dawn. Sometimes they advanced quietly; other times they charged with hideous cries. They hurled countless lances, stones, and arrows at us. Many of our men were wounded, but we managed to hold our ground and push them back with heavy losses. At the same time, they attacked the cavalry and Tlascallans at Tlacupa, who suffered considerably since they seldom kept strict night watch.

Through all this—rain, wind, cold, up to our ankles in mud, covered in wounds—we endured with patience, surviving on morsels of maize cake, a few herbs, and figs, made more grueling by the constant demand on our strength. Yet, however bravely we fought, progress was slow and costly, for every advantage cost lives and injuries. Any bridges we forced the enemy would retake, and if we filled a gap in the causeway, new ones would be opened—this repeated day after day, until the Mexicans eventually changed tactics, as I will soon describe.

Having outlined these ongoing battles and bloodshed at our position as well as Cortes's and Sandoval’s, readers may wonder what benefit we gained from destroying the Chapultepec aqueduct. In truth, very little; the enemy continued to receive plenty of water and supplies from surrounding towns by canoe during the night.

To interrupt these supplies, Cortes ordered two brigantines to patrol the lake all night to intercept the canoes, sharing any captured provisions among the three divisions. Although we missed the extra brigantines during night attacks, we soon saw the substantial benefit as the enemy’s supplies dwindled. Nearly every day our brigantines seized several canoes loaded with maize, fowls, and other necessities, though a few still managed to slip through. Determined to be rid of our troublesome brigantines, the Mexicans devised a plan: they prepared thirty large pirogues, manned by their best oarsmen and bravest warriors, and hid them among the reeds, unseen by our brigantines. Stakes were set nearby in the water, hoping to snare our vessels. At dawn, two or three decoy canoes, camouflaged with green branches to appear laden with supplies, were sent out to lure our brigantines toward the hidden pirogues.

When our brigantines spotted the decoys, they gave chase, following them into the reeds and ever closer to the ambush. The faster the canoes fled, the more determined our pursuit. But as we drew near to where the pirogues were hidden, they suddenly surged out and attacked from all sides. In an instant, all our officers, soldiers, and sailors were wounded, and because our ships were tangled among the stakes, escape was impossible. In this disaster, we lost one brigantine and two officers—one, Portillo, a man of great courage who had served in Italy, died on the spot; the other, Pedro Barba, a skillful officer, died of his wounds three days later. Both brigantines belonged to Cortes’s division, and he was deeply grieved at the loss. Yet, as will soon be told, we soon repaid the enemy in kind.

Meanwhile, Cortes and Sandoval had many fierce battles with the enemy, especially Cortes, who insisted that all captured houses be immediately pulled down and any gaps in the causeway filled in. Every foot of ground thus became secure and level.

Alvarado also received orders not to move forward over a bridge or canal until the causeway was fully filled in, nor to advance beyond any building until it was leveled.

These directions were rigorously followed, and the wood and stones from demolished houses were used to fill the causeways. Throughout the siege, the Tlascallans gave us remarkable assistance in all such tasks. When the Mexicans realized we were gradually tearing down their houses and blocking their canals, they changed strategy. They cut a wide, deep gap in the causeway between us and the city, deepened the lake on both sides, and constructed entrenchments nearby. Strong stakes were driven into the water to block our brigantines or snare them if they tried to help us. In addition, many canoes filled with men lay in hiding places, awaiting orders to strike once we advanced up to the causeway entrenchments.

One Sunday morning, enemy troops attacked from three directions, and we could barely hold our ground. I neglected to mention that Alvarado had stationed half the cavalry on the causeway, which was now less dangerous for them because most of the houses were destroyed and there was space for maneuvering, safe from house-top and lake attacks. The enemy advanced bravely from the three directions—one body from the area of the deep gap, another from the ruined houses, and a third from the direction of Tlacupa—nearly encircling us. Our cavalry and the Tlascallans managed to cut through the groups attacking our rear, while our infantry went up against the other two, who soon began to give way. But this retreat was just a ruse by the Mexicans to let us take the first entrenchment; after a brief stand, they pulled back behind the second. Believing we had the upper hand, we chased them through shallow water toward some large buildings and towers. To maintain their deception, they would turn and fire arrows at us, then retreat again. Suddenly, when we least expected it, they turned and attacked us from all sides. Overwhelmed and unable to resist, we began to retreat toward the causeway, staying in close formation. The first gap in the causeway, which we had just taken, was now filled with canoes, forcing us to go to a newly cut gap, where the water was deep and holes had been dug. With no other option, we tried to get across by swimming or wading, but many of us fell into the deep pits, at which point the canoes appeared to take advantage.

Five men were captured on this occasion and immediately brought to Quauhtemoctzin, and most of us were severely wounded. The brigantines did all they could to help, but could not get close enough because of the thickly-set stakes, getting stuck instead and suffering heavy missile fire from rooftops and canoes, killing two rowers and wounding most of the troops onboard.

It was truly a wonder that any of us escaped those deep pits alive. I myself was in grave danger; several Mexicans had managed to seize me, but I succeeded in freeing one arm, and by the grace of God, fought my way free—though badly wounded in my arm—and collapsed, breathless, just on reaching safety. The extreme effort probably caused this total collapse, combined with blood loss. I believed myself doomed when the Mexicans grabbed me, and committed my soul to God and the Holy Virgin.

Alvarado, with the cavalry, was hard pressed to keep off the many attackers from the direction of Tlacupa. Only one cavalryman, new from Spain, ventured too far and died with his horse. Alvarado was hurrying to aid us with a small group of horsemen, but if he had arrived moments earlier, we might have turned about to reenter the town and all would probably have been destroyed.

This battle happened on a Sunday. So pleased were the Mexicans with their success that they promptly renewed their attack and almost took our camp by storm, except for our cannon and the desperate resistance we put up. We stayed under arms all night, with horses saddled and ready. Cortes, greatly distressed by our defeat, sent a message to Alvarado by brigantine, instructing him absolutely never to cross a gap or opening in the causeway until it was completely filled, to keep the horses saddled day and night, and to be constantly on alert.

Chastened by our defeat, we filled in the large opening as quickly as possible, completing it in four days despite constant attacks costing six more lives and several wounded. At night, each company took turns standing guard to prevent the Mexicans from undoing our day’s labor.

While the Mexicans camped across from us, we observed how they rotated their night watches: four changes per night, with guards posted around a large fire. They concealed themselves at a distance, visible only when tending the fire or during shift changes. Sometimes rain extinguished the fire, but it was quickly relit, all in silence, with no words exchanged—just whistles for communication. Often, when we heard their guards approaching, our crossbowmen and musketeers would fire at random, though the enemy was well-sheltered even in daylight, particularly behind their new ditch and palisade. The Mexicans always replied in kind with arrows.

Fighting on the causeway continued each day. We always made our attacks as organized as possible and soon took control of the ditch just mentioned, where the enemy camped at night, though each action was hard-fought and most of us were wounded. After battling until night, all that was left was to retreat—each time, other enemy groups would attack furiously as we withdrew. The Mexicans believed they would eventually destroy us during such a retreat and came at us like tigers, forcing hand-to-hand fighting. Over time, as we grew used to their tactics, we would send the Tlascallans ahead off the causeway before retreating—though they enjoyed fighting under our protection, they often got in our way, and the enemy exploited this. Once the Tlascallans were far enough ahead, we closed ranks and withdrew, covered by our crossbowmen, musketeers, and the four brigantines that sailed alongside the causeway. Back at camp, we dressed our wounds with oil and ate what maize cakes, herbs, or figs we got from Tlacupa. Then a strong post was set each night to guard the gap in the causeway, and at dawn the fight began anew. Such was our daily routine. No matter how early we marched, we always found the enemy ready—or already at our first outposts, shouting taunts and abuse. Cortes’s division was in the same straits, fighting day and night, losing men constantly. Two brigantines still patrolled the lake at night, trying to intercept supply canoes bound for Mexico.

Once, two high-ranking Mexicans were captured and told Cortes about forty armed pirogues and many canoes hiding among the reeds, planning another attack on our two brigantines. In gratitude, Cortes gave the informants gifts and promised them land after Mexico was taken; they described the ambush site and the placement of underwater stakes intended to trap our brigantines.

Determined to return the favor, Cortes concealed six of our brigantines among thick reeds about a mile from the enemy’s ambush spot, camouflaged with green boughs, and instructed the crews to stay absolutely silent through the night. Next morning, another brigantine was sent out as usual to intercept supply convoys bound for Mexico, carrying the two Mexican informants onboard to point out the ambush. As our brigantine approached, two canoes went out to bait it towards the hidden pirogues. Both sides played the same ruse, and it was only a question of who would outwit the other. Our brigantine chased the two canoes toward the enemy’s hiding place, but suddenly turned back as if afraid to get too close. When the pirogues saw this, they charged out of hiding to pursue our “fleeing” vessel, which drew them toward our hidden ships. Once close enough, a shot was fired as a signal, and our six brigantines rushed out, ramming the pirogues and capturing or sinking many canoes and killing or wounding large numbers of the enemy. Since then, the Mexicans never again attempted such plots on the lake nor dared approach our area with their convoys.

When the towns around the lake saw we were steadily winning both on land and water, and that our Chalco, Tezcuco, and Tlascallan allies kept joining us in greater numbers, they began to consider their heavy losses and the mounting number of prisoners we made. The chiefs met and decided to send envoys begging Cortes for peace, forgiveness for past actions, and to explain they acted under Quauhtemoctzin’s orders.

Cortes was extremely pleased—so were those of us under Alvarado and Sandoval.

Our general received the ambassadors graciously, telling them their towns deserved punishment but he would pardon them. The towns suing for peace were Iztapalapan, Huitzilopuzco, Cojohuacan, Mizquic, and all those around the sweet-water part of the lake.

On this occasion, Cortes declared that he would not move from his current position until Mexico itself asked for peace or was conquered by force.

These newly peaceful towns were now ordered to help us with all their canoes and troops and supply us with provisions. They promised to obey faithfully and did join us with armed men, but provided rather scarce supplies.

In our division under Alvarado, there was no room to house these new allies—as anyone who has traveled this region in June, July, or August can imagine, since the entire area is covered with water. Meanwhile, the fighting on the causeways continued nonstop. Gradually, we captured many temples, houses, bridges, and canals—and immediately filled the latter with building rubble. Every scrap of ground gained was instantly secured by our soldiers, yet even then the enemy kept making new breaches in the causeway, quickly entrenching behind them.

Because the three companies in our division felt it dishonorable that one should always be assigned to filling in the canals while the others fought, Alvarado resolved the jealousy by rotating the duties among them.

In this way, with the able help of the Tlascallans, we steadily destroyed everything in front of us until the city itself was in view. Then at evening, when we returned to camp, the three companies would assemble, since that was when an enemy attack was most likely.

Cortes and Sandoval endured similar labor, attacked by numerous enemy forces by land and by armed canoes from the lake. On one occasion, Cortes tried to force a particularly wide and deep opening in the causeway, which the Mexicans had reinforced with a palisade and mound defended by many warriors. Seeing that it could only be crossed by swimming, he ordered his men forward, but they were fiercely attacked by the defenders on the entrenchment and by those barraging them with stones from the roofs while canoes assaulted them in the water. Many of his men were wounded and a few killed. Here too the brigantines were useless because of the stakes. Cortes and his troops were nearly destroyed more than once; this time four men were killed and over thirty were wounded. In the end, after much fighting, he forced the point, but since it was late there was no time to fill the gap, and he had to sound a retreat, fighting fiercely all the way, with many more men and Tlascallans wounded.

Quauhtemoctzin now decided on a new plan, launching it on St. John’s Day—the very day months earlier we made our second entry into Mexico after Narvaez’s defeat. The monarch had chosen this date to attack all three divisions at once with his full force, in hopes of total destruction, encouraged by his idols. The assault began in darkness, before sunrise, and the Mexicans further blocked any help from our brigantines with more underwater stakes. They assaulted us with such ferocity that they would surely have taken our camp but for the one hundred twenty veteran sentries on watch. We barely survived, suffering fifteen wounded—two of whom died within eight days. Two further nights brought similar attacks, but each time we repelled them with heavy enemy losses. Cortes and Sandoval faced the same ordeal.

When Quauhtemoctzin, his generals, and priests saw these efforts fail, they resolved to attack our position at Tlacupa with their combined forces at dawn. Charging from all directions, they broke our lines; but, by God’s grace, our strength was renewed, our troops rallied, and we counterattacked with vigor. The brigantines aided as best they could. The cavalry, lances ready, charged; the crossbowmen and musketeers gave their all; the rest of us fought hand to hand with swords, cutting and thrusting among the enemy until we finally drove them back. This was a fiercer battle than any yet on the causeways. Alvarado himself was wounded in the head and eight of our men died. If the Tlascallans had camped with us on the causeway that night, we would likely have suffered even more—since their numbers would have hindered us. But experience had taught us caution, and we now ordered them off to Tlacupa every night, feeling safe only when sure they had cleared the causeway.

We killed many of the enemy in this fight and took several high-ranking prisoners.

By now, the reader must be weary of hearing about these daily battles—but I have not exaggerated; during the ninety-three days we besieged this vast, strong city, we were forced to fight night and day with almost no respite. Of all these engagements, at least the most notable deserve mention. If I were to recount every detail, I would never finish and my book would resemble ‘Amadis de Gaule’ and similar endless romances. I will, however, keep my further account of the siege as brief as possible and hasten to St. Hippolytus’s day, when we conquered this great city and took Quauhtemoctzin and his generals prisoner. But before that victory, we endured great suffering, and at one point, especially in Cortes’s division, we nearly perished—as you will soon read.

## CHAPTER CLII. {.chapter}
*How the Mexicans defeated Cortes, and took sixty-two of his men prisoners, who were sacrificed to their idols; our general himself being wounded in the leg.*

Cortes, finally realizing that it was impossible to fill all the canals, gaps, and openings in the causeway—since the Mexicans always destroyed at night what we had completed during the day, reopening the filled apertures and creating new entrenchments—called the principal officers of his division together to discuss the current state of the siege. He told them the men could not endure this exhausting kind of warfare much longer, so he proposed that the three divisions advance on the city at the same time, fight their way to the Tlatelulco, and camp there with the troops. At the same time, Cortes wrote to Alvarado and Sandoval, instructing them to also consult their officers and soldiers on this matter. He added that from that position, they would be able to attack the enemy in the streets and avoid such severe engagements or dangerous retreats each evening, nor constantly labor at filling the canals and openings.

As is common in such situations, opinions varied greatly. Some deemed this plan entirely inadvisable and wanted to continue the current strategy, which was to tear down houses as we advanced and fill in the gaps. Those of us who favored this approach argued mainly that, if we fortified ourselves in the Tlatelulco, the causeways would fall into the hands of the Mexicans, who, with their vast manpower, would soon reopen the gaps we had filled and create new ones. In that great square, we would be attacked day and night, while our brigantines, hindered by the stakes in the water, would be unable to assist us. In short, we would be surrounded, and the Mexicans would control the city, the lake, and the surrounding area.

This opinion we carefully documented in writing, to avoid a repeat of what happened in our unfortunate retreat from Mexico.

Cortes listened to our reasons against his plan, but nevertheless decided that the three divisions, including the cavalry, would attempt the next day to fight their way to the Tlatelulco. The Tlascallans, with troops from Tezcuco and other towns that had recently submitted to our emperor, would support us, especially with their canoes.

The following morning, after hearing mass and commending ourselves to God’s protection, the three divisions set out from their separate encampments.

On our causeway, after hard fighting, we forced a bridge and an entrenchment, for Quauhtemoctzin sent enormous numbers against us; many of our men were wounded, as were over a thousand of our Tlascallan allies. We believed victory was within our grasp and continued to advance.

Cortes and his division fought across a deep opening, the sides of which were connected only by a very narrow path—the Mexicans had purposefully arranged this, accurately predicting what would happen.

Certain of victory, Cortes and his division pressed the enemy, who occasionally turned to shoot arrows and throw lances; but these were mere feints, meant to draw Cortes farther into the city, a goal they achieved.

Suddenly, fortune turned against Cortes, and the joy of apparent victory changed to bitter mourning. While chasing the seemingly defeated enemy, his officers neglected to fill the hazardous opening they had crossed. The Mexicans had made sure the causeway was narrower, in some spots covered in water, others deep in mud. Once Cortes crossed without securing the passage, the trap was sprung. An immense force, with numerous canoes hidden from the brigantines, suddenly rushed out, attacking the trapped division with terrifying shouts. There was no holding against this onslaught. The only option was to close ranks and try to retreat, but as they reached the treacherous opening, they broke and fled. Despite Cortes's shouts, "Stand! Stand firm, gentlemen! Is this how you turn your backs on the enemy?" panic prevailed and each man fought to save himself. The neglect to secure the causeway now had awful consequences. In front of the narrow path, which canoes had broken, the Mexicans wounded Cortes in the leg, captured sixty Spaniards, and killed six horses. Several Mexican chiefs seized Cortes, but with great effort he tore free, aided by the brave Christobal de Olea (not to be confused with Christobal de Oli), who cut down a Mexican chief and, together with another soldier named Lerma, cleared a path to rescue the general at the cost of Olea's life—Lerma barely survived. More of our wounded men hurried to help, risking their lives for Cortes. Antonio de Quiñones, his guard captain, also rushed in; together, they pulled Cortes from the water, placed him on a horse, and got him to safety. At that moment, his major-domo, Christobal de Guzman, arrived with another horse, but the Mexicans, growing bolder, captured him and brought him before Quauhtemoctzin. Meanwhile, the enemy chased Cortes and his men up to their camp, screaming and jeering.

We, under Alvarado, had advanced along our causeway equally confident, but suddenly an enormous body of Mexicans, in full military attire, rushed out upon us with horrible howls, throwing at our feet five bloody heads of our countrymen from Cortes’s division. "See these heads!" they shouted. "We will kill you all the same way, as we did Malinche and Sandoval and all their troops! These are some of their heads—you will recognize them." With such threats, they surrounded us on all sides and attacked so furiously that despite our determined resistance they could not break through our tightly closed ranks. We began to retreat in good order, sending the Tlascallans ahead to clear the causeway and the dangerous spots. The Tlascallans, seeing the five bleeding heads and hearing the enemy’s threats, became terrified, believing the enemy’s claim that Malinche, Sandoval, and all the teules were dead.

As we retreated, we continually heard the great drum on the summit of the city’s main temple—its mournful, almost demonic tones carrying for eight to twelve miles. We later learned that each time we heard its terrible sound, the Mexicans were offering the bleeding hearts of our unfortunate comrades to their idols. The retreat was far from over—the enemy attacked us from rooftops, from canoes, and from land, fresh troops constantly pouring in. Then Quauhtemoctzin ordered the great horn sounded, the signal that his troops had no choice but victory or death. The sorrowful drum from the temple filled the Mexicans with wild fury, and they charged our swords headlong. It was a terrible sight I cannot fully describe, though it is vivid in my memory even now. Had God not given us extra strength, we would all have perished, as we were all wounded. It is to God alone we owe our survival; without His help, we would never have reached our quarters again. I cannot give enough thanks to God, who once again, as so often before, saved me from the Mexicans. When we reached our camp, a cavalry charge helped clear some space, but mostly we owed our safety to our two brass cannons mounted at our camp’s front. These cannon kept firing into the packed ranks of our enemies on the causeway, each shot cutting down many. Yet, the Mexicans—sure of victory—kept pressing on, hurling stones and lances into our very camp. Pedro Moreno, who still lives in Puebla, was, on this day, of enormous service: he served the cannon himself when the artillerymen were either dead or too wounded. Pedro Moreno had always been a valiant soldier, but on this day we were especially indebted to him. The pain of our wounds and the dire situation were only made worse by our uncertainty about Cortes's and Sandoval's divisions, as two miles separated us. The Mexicans' boast—when they threw the five heads at our feet—that Malinche and Sandoval and their teules were destroyed, echoed in our ears and caused us great anxiety. Though we kept our ranks and could defend ourselves, we feared we would finally be overwhelmed.

While we were assaulted from land, many canoes attacked the brigantines; from one, the enemy captured a man alive, killed three, and wounded the captain and all aboard. That brigantine would have fared even worse if Juan Xaramillo’s had not arrived to help.

One of the brigantines under Juan de Limpias Carvajal became so lodged among stakes that it was barely saved. Carvajal lost his hearing by straining himself so much. He lives in Puebla now, and his brave actions and shouts spurred the rowers on so they managed to break through and rescue the brigantine. This was our first brigantine to clear the stakes.

By then, Cortes and his division had also returned to their camp. Upon arrival, the enemy threw three heads of our comrades among his troops, shouting that these were the heads of Sandoval’s and Alvarado’s men, whom they had slain—along with all their teules.

Upon seeing this, Cortes was deeply shaken, but tried to conceal it. He ordered his officers to close ranks and present a united front. At the same time, he sent Tapia, with three horsemen, to Tlacupa to check on our division and, barring total defeat, to maintain tight formation and maintain utmost vigilance—something we, of course, were already doing.

Tapia and the others fulfilled their orders promptly, fighting through an ambush where Quauhtemoctzin had stationed troops to cut our communication, but reached our camp safely, though all four were wounded. They found us still fiercely fighting the enemy and were glad to see our courage. After delivering Cortes’s orders, they related what had happened to his division, but did not tell the whole truth—they said only twenty-five were killed and that all the rest were in good condition.

Turning to Sandoval: he had advanced along the causeway victoriously until, after Cortes’s defeat, the Mexicans turned the main force against him, forcing him to retreat. Two of his men were killed, all the rest wounded, including himself in three places—head, thigh, and arm. The enemy threw six bleeding heads among his men, warning these were the heads of Malinche, Alvarado, and others who had fallen, and Sandoval’s men would soon meet the same fate. With renewed fury, they fell upon him; but Sandoval was undismayed, ordering his men to close ranks tightly. As the causeway was narrow, he sent the Tlascallans (who were many in his division) off the causeway, then began retreating under cover of the brigantines, musketeers, and crossbowmen. This was no easy task, for the men were wounded and disheartened. When Sandoval reached the end of the causeway, the Mexicans surrounded him, but he encouraged his officers and men so much that they stayed close together, cut through the enemy, and reached their camp, where they took careful precautions.

Now that his troops were out of danger, Sandoval gave command to Captain Luis Marin. After his wounds were dressed, he departed, with two horsemen, for Cortes’s camp. On the way, enemy detachments repeatedly harassed them, as Quauhtemoctzin had stationed troops everywhere to sever our communication.

Upon reaching Cortes, Sandoval cried, “Alas! General, what a terrible disaster! How shamefully have your grand plans ended!” At this, tears came to Cortes’s eyes. “O my son Sandoval! If this misfortune has come upon us for my sins, I am not solely to blame, as you suppose. The royal treasurer Juan de Alderete failed to do his duty and did not follow my orders to fill the opening in the causeway. The man is not used to war and doesn’t know how to obey.”

Alderete, standing nearby, could not refrain from retorting that, when Cortes was advancing victoriously, he had spurred his men to follow closely, shouting, “Forward, cavaliers!” Nothing was said about filling the opening, or else he, and those under his command, would have done so. Others blamed Cortes for not having sent off the mass of allies from the causeway earlier. Many unpleasant remarks followed, which I prefer not to repeat here.

During this intense argument, two brigantines that had accompanied Cortes during his advance reappeared. Nothing had been heard or seen of them for some time, and they had been given up for lost. Trapped among stakes, they had fought off many canoes and, after fierce fighting and with a favorable breeze, managed to break through and reach deep water—though everyone aboard was wounded. Cortes was overjoyed at their return, for he had feared them lost, but had not told anyone lest they lose further heart.

Cortes then sent Sandoval urgently to Tlacupa to check on our division and, if not destroyed already, to help in the defense of our camp. Francisco de Lugo went with him, in case enemy detachments were abroad. Cortes told Sandoval that he had previously sent Tapia with three horsemen, but feared they had perished on the way.

As Sandoval prepared to mount, Cortes embraced him, saying, “Go, for heaven’s sake! You see I cannot be everywhere at once—so I entrust you with the chief command of the three divisions for now. I am wounded and worn out. I beg you, rescue our three divisions from destruction. I have little doubt that Alvarado and his men have fought like heroes, but I fear he may have been overcome by these dogs’ overwhelming numbers, given what has happened to me—it might have gone even worse for him.”

With that, Sandoval and Lugo rode off for our encampment, arriving at vespers, though we had learned of Cortes’s defeat hours before. They found us still resisting the Mexicans, who were making every effort to storm our camp from the causeway where we had torn down many houses, while simultaneously attacking from the lake with their canoes. They had pinned one of our brigantines among the stakes, killed two crew, and wounded the rest.

When Sandoval saw how I and many comrades were standing up to our waists in water trying to free the brigantine, he praised us and urged us to save the vessel, as the Mexicans were already tying ropes to tow her into the town behind their canoes. Encouraged, we fought even harder and eventually saved her; I was wounded by an arrow in the process.

While we fought for the brigantine, constant waves of the enemy crowded the causeway. We received more wounds, and even Sandoval was struck in the face with a stone just as Alvarado arrived with more cavalry. When Sandoval saw how bravely I and others resisted, he ordered us to retreat slowly so we didn’t lose all our horses. As we hesitated, he shouted, “Are we all to perish because of you? For heaven’s sake, my brave friends, retreat in good order!” He had barely finished when he and his horse were again wounded. We now ordered our Indian allies off the causeway and began to fall back, making sure to face the enemy. Our musketeers and crossbowmen kept firing; the cavalry charged in turns at half speed; Pedro Moreno fired the cannon. But no matter how many we killed, the enemy kept coming, determined to overcome and sacrifice us by nightfall.

After great effort, we crossed a deep opening and finally reached our encampment, more secure from attack. Sandoval, Lugo, Tapia, and Alvarado stood together recounting events, when suddenly, from the temple summit, the massive drum of Huitzilopochtli thundered, along with trumpets, horns, and other hellish instruments. The sound was terrifying, but worse was what we saw—Mexicans sacrificing our captive companions from Cortes’s retreat across the opening.

We could clearly see the platform and the chapel where those cursed idols stood; the Mexicans decorated the Spaniards’ heads with feathers and forced their victims to dance around Huitzilopochtli; we saw them stretch victims out on a stone, cut open their chests with flint knives, tear out their still-beating hearts, and offer them to their idols. We had to watch as they threw the bodies down the temple steps, where others cut off arms, legs, and heads, removed the skin from the faces—beards still attached—for display at feasts; the limbs and body parts were cut up and eaten!

All the Spaniards taken prisoner suffered this fate; only the entrails were fed to the tigers, lions, otters, and serpents kept in cages. We witnessed these atrocities with our own eyes from our camp, and readers may imagine our agony—especially being so close and unable to help our companions. Each of us thanked God deeply for the mercy shown in sparing us from such a death.

As we watched this horrifying scene, new troops of Mexicans attacked from all sides, screaming that such would be our end, as their gods had promised. The threats against our Tlascallan friends were even more savage—they threw them the bones of their and our countrymen, roasted and stripped of flesh, taunting, "We have eaten your people and the teules; enjoy these bones! See the ruins of the houses you pulled down? Soon you’ll be building much larger ones for us. Stay loyal to the teules and you’ll join them in sacrifice!"

Quauhtemoctzin, after this victory, sent the feet and hands of our unfortunate comrades, along with their beards, skins, and the heads of slain horses, to ally towns and his relatives, boasting that over half the Spaniards had been killed and soon he would have the rest. He also ordered any towns that had allied with us to send ambassadors at once to Mexico, or he would destroy their people.

From this moment, the enemy attacked us constantly day and night. But as we always kept alert and maintained our formation, they never caught us by surprise.

Our officers shared in the hardships with every soldier; the horses were always saddled, half on the causeway, half at Tlacupa. Whenever we filled an opening, the Mexicans returned to reopen it and erect stronger entrenchments beyond it. Our allies from the lake towns, seeing so many of their men and canoes lost, began to withdraw. Though they did not join the Mexicans, they were simply waiting to see who would ultimately win before abandoning us entirely.

Sandoval, Tapia, Lugo, and the other officers from the other divisions now thought it time to return to their commands and report to Cortes on our situation. They hurried to headquarters and told him how bravely Alvarado and his men had held out and how vigilant we were in camp.

Sandoval, who was always a good friend to me, told Cortes he had found me, with others, standing waist-deep in water fighting to free a brigantine; that without us, it would have been lost with all on board. I will not repeat the rest of what he said in my praise, as it concerns myself, but it was often mentioned and well-known to all the troops.

Cortes was much encouraged to hear how well organized our camp was, and instructed the divisions to avoid unnecessary skirmishes and focus on the defense of their encampments, since the Mexicans renewed their attacks every morning with darts, stones, and other missiles. After we fortified our camp with a deep, wide ditch, we felt more secure and remained quiet for the next four days. Cortes and Sandoval also gave their troops a similar period of rest, which was much needed, as we were all wounded and exhausted, with little to eat. On that terrible day, losses across the three divisions amounted to sixty men and seven horses. The short rest was most welcome, but now we had to plan our next move.

## CHAPTER CLIII. {.chapter}
*The new plan of operation we adopted during the siege, and how all our allies returned to their own homes.*

For the next five days, we stood armed at night on the causeway, with the brigantines stationed on each side in the lake. Half of our cavalry patrolled around Tlacupa, where our baggage and bakery were kept; the other half remained near our camp. As soon as dawn broke, the Mexicans resumed their attacks on our encampment, determined to storm it.

Similar attacks were made on the encampments of Sandoval and Cortes, until we changed our strategy. Meanwhile, the Mexicans conducted solemn sacrifices every day in the large temple at Tlatelulco and celebrated their feasts. Each time the infernal drum sounded from the temple, it was accompanied by the discordant noise of shell trumpets, timbrels, horns, and the horrible screams and howls of the Mexicans. Large fires burned on the temple platform all night, and each night, some of our unfortunate countrymen were sacrificed to their cursed idols, Huitzilopochtli and Tetzcatlipuca. In their discourses with the papas, these idols promised that we would all be killed within a few days. As these gods were deceitful and malicious, they tricked the Mexicans into believing these promises to prevent them from seeking peace with us, the teules. Unfortunately, the Tlascallans and our other allies began to believe these oracles after our last defeat.

One morning, large groups of Mexicans launched a renewed attack, intending to surround us on all sides. Each Mexican force wore a distinct uniform and had specific warlike insignia, taking turns to relieve each other in battle. Throughout their fierce assaults, they continually shouted, “You are a pack of low-minded scoundrels, fit for nothing. You can neither build a house nor grow maize. You are useless fellows, only here to plunder our city. You fled your own country and deserted your king; but within eight days, none of you will be alive. Oh, you wretches, you are so vile and beastly that even your flesh cannot be eaten. It tastes as bitter as gall!”

It is likely that after they feasted on the bodies of some of our companions, the Almighty, in his mercy, made the flesh taste bitter. Against the Tlascallans, they yelled even worse threats—promising to enslave them all, fatten some for sacrifice, and force others to rebuild houses and farm the land.

They hurled all these vile threats while fighting, pouring over the ruins of the houses we had destroyed, and attacking us from behind in numerous canoes. Yet each time, by God's grace, we were given fresh strength, allowing us to stand our ground and push the enemy back with heavy losses.

At this time, our allies from Huexotzinco, Cholulla, Tezcuco, and Tlascalla had grown tired of the war and quietly decided among themselves to return home. Without saying a single word to Cortes, Sandoval, or Alvarado, they all suddenly left our camps, leaving only a few of the most loyal with us. In Cortes’ division, the king of Tezcuco’s brother, the brave Suchel (later baptized as Don Carlos), stayed with about forty of his relatives and friends. In Sandoval’s division, a cazique from Huexotzinco remained with about fifty men, and in ours, Don Lorenzo de Vargas’s sons, the brave Chichimeclatecl, and about eighty others.

We were quite alarmed to find our allies had suddenly left. When Cortes questioned those who remained about why their countrymen deserted us, they replied that their companions had grown fearful of the Mexicans’ threats and the oracles of their idols, convinced that we would all be killed—especially after seeing so many of our own dead and wounded, along with their own heavy losses, which already exceeded 1,200 men. There was also the warning from the younger Xicotencatl, whom Cortes had ordered to be hanged at Tezcuco: he claimed, as his soothsayers had assured him, that we would all eventually be killed.

Our general was alarmed by this desertion but took care not to show it to the few faithful allies remaining. Instead, he calmly remarked that there was nothing to fear and expressed surprise that their countrymen did not see the real purpose behind the Mexicans’ spreading false oracles from their gods. Through these and other convincing speeches—along with lavish promises—he strengthened their loyalty.

At one point, the aforementioned Suchel, a man of remarkable bravery and a cazique in his own right, said to Cortes: “Malinche, you should not humble yourself each day to renew the battle with the enemy. I think you should order your officers to sail around the city with the brigantines, cutting off all its supplies of water and food. There are so many thousands of warriors in the city that their provisions will soon be exhausted. Their only water comes from rain or freshly dug wells, which cannot be healthy. What will they do if you cut them off from food and water? For war by hunger and thirst is the cruelest of all calamities!”

When he finished, Cortes embraced him warmly, thanked him for his wise advice, and promised to grant him valuable townships. Many of us soldiers had already given the same advice; but a Spanish soldier cannot bear to win a city by famine—he is always eager to fight his way in.

After Cortes had fully considered this plan, he sent word by brigantine to Alvarado and Sandoval, telling them to stop the daily assaults on the city. This new method of conducting the siege was helped greatly by the fact that our brigantines no longer feared the stakes the enemy had driven into the lake. If there was a decent breeze and the men rowed hard, the brigantines broke through the obstacles each time. In this way, we soon gained complete control of the lake and all the buildings standing in the water. When the Mexicans saw our great advantage, they became noticeably disheartened.

Meanwhile, we continued fighting on the causeways. In four days, with great effort, we managed to fill in the wide gap in front of our camp. Two companies fended off enemy attacks while the third filled in the opening. Cortes did the same in his division, personally helping drag beams and planks to strengthen the causeway. Sandoval did likewise, and now the brigantines could help us more, no longer fearing the stakes.

Thus, we kept getting closer and closer to the city, though the enemy still constantly attacked us with such fury and boldness that it was sometimes hard to drive them back. But the Almighty gave us strength, and our crossbowmen and musketeers inflicted heavy losses among their crowded ranks. Each evening, however, we had to retreat along the causeway to our encampment—a difficult feat, since the enemy, emboldened by their recent victory, fought with confidence. Sometimes they attacked us from three sides and wounded two horses, but thank heaven, we cut our way through, killing many and taking many prisoners. Some of our own were wounded as well, but this did not discourage us. Every day we returned to the fight, dressed our wounds at night with bandages soaked in warm oil, supped on vegetables, maize-cakes, and figs, and then posted our sentries for the night.

The dreadful celebrations on top of the large temple continued nightly. Words cannot describe the terrifying, mournful sound of that evil drum, combined with the yells and other harsh noises that erupted whenever the Mexicans sacrificed one of our countrymen amid the large fires atop the temple! For ten straight days these inhuman sacrifices went on until all their prisoners were gone; Christobal de Guzman, one of the captured, was kept alive for eighteen days and reserved for the last.

During these sacrifices, the idols spoke their oracles, promising the Mexicans our total destruction within ten days if they persevered in attacking us. And so the people allowed themselves to be deceived!

The next morning, the Mexicans again advanced in large groups to attack and would likely have overrun our camp if we had not kept up a steady cannon fire, which Pedro Mareno managed with great skill. I should mention that they shot our own arrows at us from five captured crossbows—Spanish prisoners had taught them how to use them—but these did almost no real harm.

Things were about the same at the other two camps, with which we kept constant communication by brigantine, also used to deliver Cortes’ various orders, which he always wrote out.

While all three divisions steadily continued operations against the city, our brigantines remained vigilant. Two from Cortes’ division frequently pursued supply convoys heading for Mexico. On one occasion, they captured a large canoe filled with a kind of slime that tastes much like cheese when dried. They also took many prisoners by water.

About twelve or thirteen days had passed since our defeat when Suchel, the king of Tezcuco's brother, became convinced we had the upper hand after all and that the Arab threats and idols' prophecies had been nothing but lies to deceive them. He sent word to his brother to dispatch Tezcuco's entire armed force to help us with the siege. The king of Tezcuco soon did as requested, and within two days, more than 2,000 of his warriors arrived at our camp. I clearly remember that Pedro Sanchez Farsan and Antonio de Villareal accompanied them; both later married the lady Ojeda. The first, you may recall, Cortes had appointed commandant of Tezcuco, and the second chamberlain to the king. Cortes was very pleased by this large reinforcement and praised them warmly.

The Tlascallans soon followed the Tezcucans’ example, returning in great numbers under Tecapaneca, cazique of Topoyanco. Large forces also arrived from Huexotzinco, but few from Cholulla.

Cortes ordered all these allied forces to gather at his headquarters, first posting detachments along their march to ensure their safety.

When all had assembled, he addressed them in Spanish, as interpreted by Aguilar and Doña Marina. He told them he had never doubted their faith and loyalty since they had become subjects of our emperor and received our generosity. He explained that by inviting them to join him in this war against Mexico, he sought to benefit them, allowing them to return home rich with spoils and to take revenge on their old enemies, whom they could never defeat before we arrived in their land. He acknowledged that they had fought bravely and supported us well, but reminded them that each day we ordered their troops to withdraw from the causeways because their numbers hindered our movements. Even though our force was very small, we never required their help, because we had always told them that our strength came from the Lord Jesus, from whom all victory comes. They had seen for themselves that we could tear down houses and pull up palisades unaided. Still, he added that, according to the strict laws of war, they deserved the death penalty for deserting their general at the height of battle. However, he would pardon them, understanding they were unaware of our laws. He now strictly forbade them, under any circumstances, from killing any Mexican prisoners; he hoped to conquer the city by pacifying its people.

After Cortes finished speaking, he embraced Chichimeclatecl, the two younger Xicotencatls, and Suchel of Tezcuco, praising their loyalty to our emperor and promising them even more territory and many slaves. He showed equal kindness to the caziques of Topoyanco, Huexotzinco, and Cholulla, and then divided these Indian allies equally among the three divisions.

As our battles with the Mexicans continued in much the same way each day, I will not go into as much detail as before. I will only add that during these days, it began to rain heavily each evening, and the heavier the rain, the happier we were. The Mexicans, once wet, would stop their attacks and not trouble us on our nightly retreats. Also, towards the end of the ninety-three days we kept Mexico under siege, there was an occasion when our three divisions all entered the city at once and fought our way up to the wells from which the Mexicans drew all their drinking water. We completely destroyed these wells, but not without facing fierce resistance from the enemy, who concentrated their long lances especially against our cavalry—who were able, on the firm dry ground, to charge back and forth very effectively.

## CHAPTER CLIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes offers terms of peace to Quauhtemoctzin.*

After we had gradually gained so many advantages over the Mexicans, capturing most of the bridges, causeways, and entrenchments, and leveling many houses to the ground, Cortes decided to send three prominent Mexicans, whom we had captured, to Quauhtemoctzin to offer terms of peace. At first the three men refused this task, telling our general that Quauhtemoctzin would have them killed if they brought such a message. However, with kind words, promises, and some valuable gifts, Cortes finally persuaded them to agree. He instructed them to give the following message to their monarch: “He (Cortes) felt a deep regard for Quauhtemoctzin, as he was a close relative and son-in-law to his late friend, the powerful Motecusuma. He would be deeply saddened if he had to destroy the great city of Mexico. He was also distressed to see so many of its inhabitants, together with his subjects from the surrounding region, dying every day because of these continuous battles. Therefore, in the name of our emperor, he now offered terms of peace, with forgiveness for all the harm Quauhtemoctzin had caused us. He urged him to seriously consider this offer, which had now been made to him four separate times, and to stop letting himself be misled by the inexperience of youth and the bad advice of evil papas and cursed idols. He should reflect on the great number of lives already lost, remember that we held all the cities and towns nearby, that more enemies joined our side every day, and that, at the very least, he should show some compassion for his subjects. Cortes also knew that provisions in Mexico were running short, and that the inhabitants had no way of getting water.”

With the help of our interpreters, these three prominent messengers fully understood what Cortes said, but they asked him to give them a written document to present to Quauhtemoctzin, since they knew we usually accompanied messages like this with a letter, or amatl, as they called any written order.

When these three men appeared before Quauhtemoctzin, they delivered their message with many tears and sighs. The Mexican king was at that time surrounded by his chief officers, and at first seemed angry at those who dared bring such a message. But, being a young man of kind and friendly character, he gathered all his high officials and the most notable of his papas, telling them that he was inclined to end the war with Malinche and his troops. The Mexicans, he continued, had tried every way of attack and every defense they could think of, constantly changing their strategy; yet, each time they thought the Spaniards defeated, they returned with new strength. They knew many new auxiliaries had joined their enemies, that every town had turned against Mexico, that the brigantines no longer feared the stakes placed in the lake, that cavalry now rode through the streets without fear, and that they now faced the worst disasters—starvation and thirst. Therefore, he asked for the opinions of everyone present, especially the papas, since they were familiar with the wishes of their gods. He encouraged open discussion and honest advice.

At this, it is said, they replied as follows: “Great and mighty monarch! You are our lord and master, and you rule wisely. You’ve always shown wisdom and strength, and you would have earned the crown even without inheriting it. Peace is certainly a fine thing, but remember, since these teules (Spaniards) set foot in this land and Mexico, things have only gotten worse for us. Remember all the gifts your uncle, the powerful Motecusuma, gave to these teules, as well as all he did for them—how was he rewarded? Remember the fate of Cacamatzin, the king of Tezcuco; and your uncle, how did he die? What happened to your relatives, the kings of Iztapalapan, Cojohuacan, Tlacupa, and Talatzinco? Even the sons of the great Motecusuma are gone. All the gold and riches of this great city are lost. Many people from Tepeaca, Chalco, and Tezcuco have been sent away into slavery, marked on the face with red-hot iron! Remember most of all what our gods have promised you. Listen to them, and put no faith in Malinche or his fine words. Better to fall, sword in hand, beneath the ruins of this city than submit to those who want to enslave us and have prepared every kind of torture for us.”

The papas finished their speech by saying that the gods had recently promised the Mexicans victory when sacrifices were made to them.

“If,” replied Quauhtemoctzin, rather sadly, “this is your wish, let it be so! Make the best use of the maize and other meager supplies remaining, and let us all die fighting! From this moment, no one is to mention peace in my presence! Anyone who does, I myself will execute.”

Everyone present then swore to work tirelessly night and day, and to give their lives to defend the city. They managed to ease their immediate needs by arranging with the inhabitants of Xochimilco and other districts to bring them water; new wells were even dug in Mexico, and to everyone’s surprise, they found drinkable water there. All hostilities paused for two days while they awaited Quauhtemoctzin’s answer; then suddenly, all three of our camps were attacked by huge numbers of the enemy with lion-like ferocity and such confidence, it was as if they were sure of victory. During this attack, Quauhtemoctzin’s horn sounded, and we had great difficulty in holding our lines; the Mexicans now rushed onto our swords and lances, forcing us to fight them hand-to-hand.

We certainly held the field each time, and grew more accustomed to such attacks, but many of us were always wounded. In this way, the enraged enemy assailed us in several places for six or seven days straight, and we inflicted great losses, but could not defeat them completely.

One time the Mexicans shouted, “What does Malinche mean by his repeated offers of peace? Does he think we are foolish enough to listen? Our gods have promised us victory, and we have plenty of food and water. Not one of you will leave here alive; don't speak of peace to us. That’s for women; arms are for men!”

With these words, they attacked us like mad dogs, and the battle raged until nightfall. As usual, we returned to camp after recalling our Indian allies from the causeway, posted night guards, and ate what little supper we could, still under arms, after fighting from dawn till night.

So the siege went on for many days, until three allied towns—Matlaltzinco, Malinalco, and a third I cannot recall, all some thirty-two miles from Mexico—agreed to attack our rear together, while the Mexicans attacked us from the city. They thought this plan would annihilate us, but events proved otherwise.

## CHAPTER CLV. {.chapter}
*How Gonzalo de Sandoval marches against the provinces which had sent their troops to cooperate with Quauhtemoctzin.*

To make these events clearer, I must go back to the defeat sustained by Cortes’ division on the causeway, when sixty—or rather sixty-two, as we later learned—of his men were captured. The reader will remember that after that disaster, Quauhtemoctzin sent the feet and hands, as well as the flayed faces of murdered Spaniards and the heads of dead horses to Matlaltzinco, Malinalco, and other towns. This was to celebrate the victory he claimed over us; he called on the people to join him in waging nonstop war on us by day and night, and to attack our rear on a set day while he sallied out with his forces from the city. He assured them this would mean our total destruction, since over half our men had been lost in the last battle. Quauhtemoctzin’s message was especially well received in Matlaltzinco, where he had many maternal relatives. Consequently, it was agreed that the country's entire fighting force would march to Mexico’s aid.

The warriors of these three towns moved out and began their campaign by robbing and mistreating the people in the areas they passed through, even kidnapping their children to sacrifice to their idols. The inhabitants of these areas appealed to Cortes, who immediately sent Andreas de Tapia, with twenty horsemen, one hundred Spanish infantry, and a strong force of our allies, to assist them. Tapia quickly routed the enemy, inflicting significant losses, and they fled back to their lands.

Cortes was very pleased with Tapia’s rapid response, though Tapia had barely returned when messengers from Quauhnahuac arrived, urgently requesting help against the same Matlaltzinco and Malinalco forces, who had invaded their territory.

Hearing this, Cortes immediately ordered Sandoval to go with twenty cavalry, eighty of his best infantry, and a good number of allies to assist. God knows how risky it was to send this force, since most of our men were badly wounded and had no supplies! Much could be said in praise of Sandoval’s victories, but I will not delay the reader with details, only saying that he soon returned to his division, bringing with him two prominent prisoners from Matlaltzinco and restoring peace to the region. This campaign greatly benefited us; our allies were protected from further attacks, a new and dangerous enemy was subdued, and it showed Quauhtemoctzin that his allies’ power in the provinces was weak; previously, the Mexicans had taunted us in battle, boasting that warriors from Matlaltzinco and other regions would come to destroy us, just as their gods had promised.

After this successful expedition, Cortes again offered terms of peace to Quauhtemoctzin, as before, letting him know that the emperor, our master, again offered peace so that the city would not be totally destroyed—which was the only reason we had spared the city for five days. He should realize that he had hardly any food or water left for his troops and the desperate inhabitants, and that two thirds of the city was ruined. He could see for himself, by talking to the two Matlaltzinco chiefs (who were sent as envoys), what kind of assistance he could expect from their country. Cortes accompanied this message with sincere friendship; Quauhtemoctzin, however, would not even dignify it with an answer and ordered the two Matlaltzinco chiefs to leave the city and go home. Immediately after, all three of our divisions were attacked with even more fury than before; and no matter how many of these enraged fighters we killed, they kept coming, seeming to seek only death. With cries of, “Tenitoz rey Castilla? Tenitoz Axaca?” which in their language means: What will the king of Spain say to this? What will he say now? They hurled masses of lances, arrows, and stones at us, so the whole causeway was covered. However brave the Mexicans were, we still gained ground in the city daily. Their numbers were greatly reduced, and they stopped opening new breaches in the causeway; though each evening they continued to harass us as we returned to camp.

At this point there was not a grain of powder left among the three divisions, when luckily a ship arrived in Vera Cruz, having become separated from an armament led by a certain licentiate, Lucas Vasquez de Aillon, which had been wrecked on the islands off Florida. This ship brought several soldiers and a good supply of powder, crossbows, and other essential items. All of it was immediately sent to us by Rodrigo Rangel, who was holding Narvaez under guard in Vera Cruz.

Cortes now prosecuted the siege with greater determination, ordering the three divisions to advance as far as possible into the city and even attempt to seize the Tlatelulco, where the main temples of Mexico stood.

Cortes, leading his division, soon fought his way to another square where some smaller temples stood, inside which hung, from beams, the heads of several of my companions who had died in earlier battles. The hair and beards of these heads were much longer than when the men were alive, and I truly wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself three days later, when our division also advanced into this area. Among these heads, I recognized three of my comrades. We wept openly at the sight, and, for the moment, left those sorrowful remains hanging until twelve days later, when we took them down with others found elsewhere in these temples, and buried them in a church we founded, now called the Church of the Martyrs. Alvarado’s division fought its way up to the Tlatelulco but encountered such a large body of Mexican troops, guarding the temples and idols, that it took several hours of fierce combat to win the area. Here, our cavalry proved invaluable, being less hindered in the open space and able to charge the enemy’s crowded ranks effectively.

Since the enemy attacked us in force from three directions, our three companies also fought separately, and one, led by Guiterrez de Badajoz and ordered by Alvarado to storm the great temple of Huitzilopochtli, fought bravely, especially against the priests living in houses next to the temple, but our men were beaten back down the steps after advancing quite far. Seeing this, Alvarado ordered two other companies, engaged elsewhere, to help storm the temple. The opposing Mexicans immediately followed us as we shifted, but this did not stop us from ascending the temple steps. By heaven, it was a terrible task to take that high, strongly-fortified building—and much could be said about our courage. We were all badly wounded, yet were determined to reach the top, plant our standard, and set the idols on fire. After doing this, we had to fight the Mexicans at the base of the temple until nightfall: they were so many, it was impossible to rout them completely.

While we were fighting for the temple of Huitzilopochtli, Cortes was heavily engaged elsewhere in the city. When he saw flames rising from the chief temple and our banner flying, he shouted for joy, and all his troops wished they could join us. But too many obstacles separated us—over a mile’s distance, with many bridges and canals, all of which needed to be crossed under fire. Fierce resistance made it impossible for them to reach us then. It was not until four days later, after the three divisions had finally cleared a path through the city, that we all joined together again at the temple; by then, Quauhtemoctzin had been forced to withdraw with all his men into a part of the city surrounded by lake, after we had razed his palaces. Still, the Mexicans continued their attacks from that quarter, and when we began our evening retreat, they followed us with even more violence than before.

Cortes, seeing that days passed without any sign that the Mexicans wished for peace, decided to try for a decisive victory by launching a surprise attack from an ambush. He selected thirty horsemen and one hundred of the most agile infantry from all three divisions, who, along with 3,000 Tlascallans, were ordered to hide early one morning in some extensive buildings belonging to a Mexican noble. Cortes then, as usual, led the rest of the troops along the causeway, with cavalry ahead, followed by musketeers and crossbowmen. When he reached a bridge over a wide canal, heavily defended by the enemy, he gave the order to suddenly retreat and for our allies to withdraw from the causeway. The Mexicans, thinking Cortes was fleeing in fear, attacked his rear with great vigor. But as soon as the enemy passed the place where we were hidden, a cannon was fired—the agreed signal—and we rushed from hiding, cavalry at our head, attacking their rear. Cortes, turning with his men and Tlascallan allies, attacked in front. A terrible slaughter followed, and from that time forward the Mexicans did not dare attack us as we returned to camp.

Alvarado attempted a similar ambush with his division, but was not as successful.

For my part, I was not with my own division at that moment, as Cortes had specifically chosen me to join his troops in the aforementioned ambush.

We now had entire control over the Tlatelulco, and Cortes ordered our three companies to fortify themselves on this large square, to spare the men the daily march from the camp, which was two miles away. Here we stayed quietly for three days, doing nothing of note; and, hoping that the Mexicans would at last seek peace, Cortes refused to allow the destruction of any more houses, or further attacks on the rest of the city. He sent another message to the Mexican king, urging him to surrender and assuring him that he had nothing to fear for his person; in fact, he would receive the greatest honor, and retain possession of his lands and cities as before. Cortes sent a supply of food—maize-cakes, fowls, venison, figs, and cherries—knowing the monarch had hardly anything left to eat. When Quauhtemoctzin received this message, he called a council of war with his chief officers, and it was decided that he would respond to Cortes: “He, Quauhtemoctzin, was now eager to end the war, and wished to have a personal interview with Cortes within three days to settle terms of peace.”

Four high-ranking Mexicans came to our camp with this reply. We truly believed Quauhtemoctzin was sincere, and so Cortes entertained these ambassadors with a fine meal and gave them more food to take back to their king, who, in return, sent other ambassadors with two magnificent mantles for our general and a promise to meet Cortes as agreed.

But Quauhtemoctzin’s message was merely a ruse to buy time to repair bridges, deepen canals, and bring in new arms; and, in short, the three days passed but Quauhtemoctzin did not appear. His counselors constantly warned him not to trust Cortes, reminding him of Motecusuma’s fate, and insisting that Cortes would kill all the Mexican nobility; they advised him to avoid the meeting by pretending ill health. They vowed to fight to the last against the teules, still hoping for victory, as promised by their gods.

When three days passed and Quauhtemoctzin did not appear, we realized we had been fooled, though the Mexicans left us little time to brood, launching a sudden, fierce attack that nearly overwhelmed us. The same happened to Alvarado and Sandoval’s divisions; it was as if the war had just begun.

Being unprepared, caught off guard while expecting peace, the enemy wounded several of our men, one of whom died soon after. We lost two horses and others were injured; but we did not allow the enemy to boast about this attack, and made them pay dearly. Cortes now ordered us to advance into the area where Quauhtemoctzin had taken refuge; when the king saw he was about to lose even this last part of the city, he sent word requesting a meeting with Cortes at the bank of a large canal, each standing on one side. Cortes agreed, and the meeting was set for the following day. Our general arrived at the agreed spot on time, but Quauhtemoctzin did not come; instead, several prominent Mexicans came, explaining their king did not come out of fear we would kill him with crossbows or muskets. Cortes swore that no harm would come to the king, but nothing would persuade them.

During this conversation, two of these Mexican nobles took from a small bundle some maize-cakes, a piece of cooked fowl, and a few cherries, and began to eat—just to make Cortes think they were not short of food. Our general told Quauhtemoctzin, through them, that it made no difference whether he came or not; soon, Cortes would come to visit him in his own house and see all his stores of supplies.

For the next five days, both sides remained perfectly quiet; but during this time, many starving people deserted to our lines, which was the main reason Cortes ordered an end to hostilities, still hoping the enemy would sue for peace. But once again we were disappointed.

In Cortes’ division was a soldier named Sotelo, who had previously served in Italy under the great captain, and had fought at Garayana, and in other celebrated battles. He was always talking about the various siege engines used in those wars, and claimed he could build a kind of catapult on the Tlatelulco that would hurl down the houses where the enemy remained, so effectively that the Mexicans would be quickly forced to surrender.

Cortes, swayed by this man's promises, gave the necessary orders for such a machine; the stone, wood, lime, and iron required for this marvelous device were soon gathered. Two of these catapults were built, meant to throw huge stones as large as buckets onto enemy positions. But the machines failed completely—the stones fell right at the foot of the engine. Cortes was furious with the soldier for convincing him to waste time and resources, and ordered the machines destroyed. He then decided to launch an attack on the area where Quauhtemoctzin had taken cover, using the brigantines. How this was carried out will be related in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CLVI. {.chapter}
*How Quauhtemoctzin was taken prisoner.*

Cortes, seeing that the catapult was useless and that the Mexicans still refused to make peace, ordered Sandoval to advance with our twelve brigantines into that part of the city where Quauhtemoctzin had retreated with the elite of his army and Mexico’s leading nobles. He also gave strict orders that, if possible, no Mexican should be killed or wounded, and that our men should not be the first to attack, but should instead level the houses and destroy the many breastworks built on the lake.

Cortes then climbed to the top of the chief temple in Tlatelulco to observe Sandoval’s maneuvers, accompanied by Alvarado, Luis Marin, Lugo, and other soldiers.

When Sandoval arrived with the brigantines at the quarter where Quauhtemoctzin’s palace stood, Quauhtemoctzin quickly realized that resistance was hopeless, and he began to plan his escape to avoid being put to death or captured. He had for some time ordered that fifty large pirogues always be kept ready so that, when the danger was greatest, he could escape to a dense reed-covered part of the lake, then reach the mainland and find refuge in a township friendly to the Mexicans. He also advised his chief officers and nobles to do the same. So, as soon as the leading residents saw Sandoval advancing into their own houses with his troops, they began to carry off whatever possessions they could in their canoes and fled; very quickly the lake was covered with canoes. When Sandoval learned that Quauhtemoctzin and the leading people of Mexico had also fled, he immediately stopped the destruction his men were carrying out and ordered the brigantines to pursue the fleeing canoes, especially the one thought to carry the emperor himself. If they succeeded in capturing him alive, they were to treat him respectfully and not harm him in any way.

Garcia Holguin, a close friend of Sandoval, commanded the fastest brigantine with the best rowers. Sandoval therefore chose Holguin’s vessel and directed him to the area where Quauhtemoctzin and the nobles were believed to be retreating in large pirogues. Holguin quickly set out in pursuit, and by God’s will, he overtook the canoes and the fleet of large pirogues carrying Quauhtemoctzin and Mexico’s nobles. He soon identified the emperor’s pirogue by its fine carvings, tent, and other decorations. Holguin signaled for the pirogues to halt, and when they hesitated, he ordered his men to ready their crossbows and muskets. On seeing this, Quauhtemoctzin became fearful and cried out, “Order your men not to shoot at me. I am the king of Mexico, and of this land. I only ask that you do no harm to my wife, my children, these women, or anything else I have with me here, but take me alone to Malinche.”

Holguin was overjoyed at these words, and upon reaching the pirogue, he embraced the emperor and courteously helped him into the brigantine, along with his wife and twenty of his nobles. Soft mats and cloaks were arranged for seats on the deck, and what food was available was set before them. The canoes carrying their baggage were left alone but ordered to follow the brigantine.

Sandoval had stationed himself to monitor the other brigantines and direct their movements. When he heard that Garcia Holguin had captured Quauhtemoctzin and was already bringing the emperor to Cortes, he ordered his men to row as hard as they could to catch up with Holguin, and shouted for him to hand over the prisoner. Holguin refused, saying *he* had taken the emperor prisoner, not Sandoval. Sandoval replied that this made no difference: he was commander-in-chief of the brigantines, and Holguin was under his command and had acted on his orders; he had chosen Holguin for this task because they were friends and his brigantine was the fastest.

While Sandoval and Holguin were arguing, another brigantine sped ahead to Cortes—who was still watching from the temple top—to claim the reward for bringing the first news of the emperor’s capture. They also reported the dispute over who deserved the honor of the capture.

Upon hearing this, the general immediately sent Luis Marin and Lugo to resolve the dispute by telling Sandoval and Holguin they were both to bring in the emperor, his wife, and his family as captives, and that Cortes himself would decide to whom the honor belonged.

Meanwhile, our general ordered some raised seats to be prepared, cushioned with soft mats and cloaks and arranged for a fine meal. Holguin and Sandoval soon arrived with Quauhtemoctzin and led him to Cortes, who received him with the utmost respect, warmly embraced him, and spoke kindly to him and his officers. Quauhtemoctzin then said to Cortes, “Malinche! I have done what was my duty to defend my city and my people. All my means are exhausted. I have yielded to superior power and now stand as your prisoner. Now draw the dagger from your belt and plunge it into my heart.”

The emperor spoke these words with tears and deep sighs, while many of his officers broke out in loud lamentation. Using our interpreters, Cortes assured him in the kindest manner that he honored him all the more for his bravery and stout defense of the city, and that far from blaming him, it was to his credit, not his shame. He did wish Quauhtemoctzin had accepted offers of peace and saved the city and his people, but since it had not been possible, nothing could change matters now, and that he should not grieve, but compose himself and encourage his officers. He promised that he would remain, as before, lord of Mexico and the other provinces subject to it.

Quauhtemoctzin and his officers thanked Cortes for this promise. Cortes then inquired about his wife and the other women, who he heard had come in the brigantine. Quauhtemoctzin replied that he had asked Sandoval and Holguin to leave them in the canoes until Malinche’s will was known. Cortes sent for them and treated them to the best of what he had. As it was getting late and starting to rain, he ordered Sandoval to escort the emperor, his family, and suite to Cojohuacan; Alvarado and Oli were sent to their own positions, and Cortes returned to his headquarters at Tepeaquilla.

Quauhtemoctzin was captured on St. Hippolytus’ day, August 13, 1521, around vespers. Praise and glory to our Lord Jesus Christ and to his blessed mother, the Virgin Mary. Amen.

On that night there was constant thunder and lightning, and around midnight a particularly violent storm.

After Quauhtemoctzin’s capture, we soldiers became so extremely deaf that we could barely hear anything, and it felt similar to what happens if you stand in a bell tower while all the bells are ringing and then suddenly stop. The reader should not find this comparison out of place, given how our ears had endured constant noise during the ninety-three days of the siege of Mexico, day and night. In one quarter, the deafening yells, pipes, and war cries of the enemy; here, calls to the canoes to attack brigantines, bridges, and causeways; there, Mexicans driving their forces with shouts as they cut through dikes, widen breaches, drive in palisades, build entrenchments, and call for more lances and arrows. Elsewhere Mexican women were commanded to fetch more sling stones. All this was overlaid with the ominous sound of drums, shell trumpets, and especially the dreadful and mournful big drum of Huitzilopochtli, whose dismal tone seemed to cut to the soul and never ceased. This terrible din went on day and night without pause—no one could hear what another said—so my comparison with the bell tower seems most apt.

Now I want to add some notes about Quauhtemoctzin’s appearance. The emperor was about twenty-three or twenty-four years old and could truly be called a handsome man, both in face and figure. His face was rather long, with a pleasant expression; his eyes were very expressive, whether he looked regal or cheerful; his complexion was lighter than the copper-brown typical of most Indians. His wife, a niece of his uncle Motecusuma, was a young and very beautiful woman.

Regarding the dispute between Sandoval and Holguin about who deserved credit for capturing Quauhtemoctzin, Cortes resolved it for the moment by saying that a similar argument had occurred among the Romans between Marius and Lucius Cornelius Sulla, when Sulla captured King Jugurtha, who had fled for safety to his father-in-law Bocchus. “When Sulla,” said Cortes, “made his triumphal entry into Rome, he led Jugurtha in chains among his trophies. Marius considered that Sulla had no right to do this without his permission, since Marius was commander-in-chief and Sulla had acted on his orders. But because Sulla was a patrician, his class sided with him against Marius, who was a newcomer from Arpinum and a man risen from humble origins, even though he had been consul seven times. This led to the civil wars between Marius and Sulla, but the question as to who deserved the honor of capturing Jugurtha was never settled.”

After telling this story, Cortes added that he would submit the question to the emperor of Spain for a formal decision about who could claim the honor in their coat-of-arms. So they awaited judgment from Spain, which came two years later, when Cortes was allowed to place in his escutcheon a series of kings: Motecusuma and Quauhtemoctzin of Mexico, Cacamatzin of Tezcuco, the kings of Iztapalapan, Cojohuacan, Tlacupa, and another powerful king—relative of Motecusuma, lord of Matlaltzinco and other provinces—who was believed to have the best claim to Mexico’s throne. I must now say something about the dead bodies and skulls we saw in the part of the city where Quauhtemoctzin had retreated. It is true—and I can swear to it—that the houses and canals were completely filled with bodies. We could barely walk through the streets and courtyards of Tlatelulco because of the corpses. I have read of the destruction of Jerusalem, but I would not want to judge if the carnage there was as great as here. Most of the army and city inhabitants, as well as those from towns and provinces under Mexico’s rule, were killed; bodies lay everywhere, and the stench was unbearable. That day, after Quauhtemoctzin’s capture, Cortes himself fell ill from the horrible odor, and that is why the three divisions withdrew to their former camps.

The men in the brigantines now had a great advantage in making loot, for they could access all the houses in the lake where the Mexicans had hidden their valuables, and also the reed-grown parts where those whose houses had been demolished fled with their goods. On many occasions, while foraging, they even plundered leading Mexicans who had fled to the Otomies. We others, who fought on the causeways and mainland, were not so lucky; all we got were wounds from arrows, stones, and lances. By the time we penetrated a house, the residents had already escaped with their possessions, since we had to build bridges or fill canals first, which took time. That is why I noted earlier that the troops assigned to the brigantines fared better than those on the mainland, a fact confirmed when Cortes later asked Quauhtemoctzin about Motecusuma’s treasure: he and his generals declared that most of it had been carried off by the brigantine crews.

As the city’s air became unbearably foul from decaying corpses, Quauhtemoctzin asked Cortes to let all the people and his remaining soldiers leave the city. Our general granted this, and the causeways were packed day and night for three days with men, women, and children fleeing to the mainland. These unfortunate people were gaunt, deathly in appearance, covered in filth, and their stench was so foul that the very sight was pitiful.

When all the people had left, Cortes sent some people into the city to inspect its condition. They found the houses crammed with dead bodies, and some poor souls still alive but too weak to stand, lying in their own filth, like hogs left to eat only grass. Every patch of earth was as if plowed—so desperate for food, the inhabitants had dug up every root and even peeled the bark from trees to try to ease their hunger. There was no pure water, for that in the wells was brackish; and yet, even in the worst famine, the Mexicans did not eat the flesh of their own, though they greedily ate that of the Tlascallans and Spaniards. Truly, never have people suffered so from hunger, thirst, and the terrors of war as the inhabitants of this great city.

After the conquest of this great, populous, and famous city, a solemn service was held to give thanks to the Almighty. Afterwards, Cortes ordered a banquet in Cojohuacan to celebrate our victory with great rejoicing, using wine from a ship that had just come to Vera Cruz and pork from Cuba.

All officers and soldiers were invited to the banquet, but when everyone arrived, there was not enough room for even a third of them at the table; this caused much resentment, and it would have been better if Cortes had never held the feast at all. Many strange things happened: some got drunk and vomited all over the table; others boasted they had enough gold to buy horses with golden saddles; crossbowmen swore they would not shoot another arrow unless its tip was of pure gold. Some stumbled about, while many rolled headlong down the steps.

After the banquet came a dance, with the few ladies who had traveled with our army. Nothing could be more comical than to see men in full armor leaping about as they danced. The ladies were few, and I will not mention their names or repeat the jokes made at their expense next day. I must note, however, that Father Olmedo loudly expressed his disapproval of the men’s scandalous behavior during the feast and dance, telling Sandoval that this was no way to give thanks to God or to gain his future aid!

Sandoval reported this to Cortes, who, always prudent, immediately summoned Father Olmedo and said: “Reverend Father! It’s impossible to restrain soldiers when they are enjoying themselves as they wish. I admit, it would have been better had I withheld this temptation. Still, your reverence can stop all this by ordering a solemn procession to church, where you can preach a stern sermon and rebuke us from the pulpit. There you’ll also have a good chance to instruct the men not to take the Indians’ daughters, or their belongings, and to stop quarreling among themselves, and behave as good Catholic Christians, so that the Lord may bless their lives.”

Father Olmedo approved greatly of this suggestion and thanked Cortes, though the idea really came from Alvarado. A procession was immediately ordered; we marched with banners and crosses, carrying the image of the Virgin Mary at the front, singing hymns as we went.

The next day, Father Olmedo preached a sermon, and many soldiers, including Cortes and Alvarado, took communion, and again we offered thanks to the Almighty for our victory.

There are several events from this memorable siege I have not mentioned, which, though perhaps out of place here, I cannot leave without saying something.

First, I must note the great courage of our friends Chichimeclatecl and the two younger Xicotencatls in fighting the Mexicans and overall the valuable help they gave us. The same must be said of Don Carlos, the king of Tezcuco’s brother, who showed extraordinary valor. There was also another chief from one of the lake towns—though I forget his name—whose feats were astonishing; and many other allied chiefs distinguished themselves in the siege. Cortes praised and thanked them warmly and promised to reward them soon with lands and vassals, making them great caziques. Since they had already seized plenty of cotton goods, gold, and other valuables, they went home delighted; they did not fail to take with them supplies of the flesh of the Mexicans they had killed, seasoned and dried, to share with their friends and relatives at feasts.

It has been a long time since we fought those terrible, continuous battles, and I can never be thankful enough to God for my survival; I must now mention something extraordinary that happened to me.

I previously wrote how we saw the Mexicans sacrificing our captured countrymen—cutting open their chests, tearing out their beating hearts, and offering them to their terrible idols. That sight made a deep impression on me, but let no one think I lacked courage or resolve. On the contrary, I always bravely exposed myself in every engagement, for I was determined to be known as a good soldier, and indeed had that reputation; whatever deeds others dared, I attempted too, as anyone present can testify. Yet, I must confess I was deeply disturbed each day as I saw some companions killed in such a dreadful way, and terrified at the thought I might share the same fate. In fact, the Mexicans had seized me twice, and by God’s mercy, I escaped both times.

I could not shake the thought of dying such a horrible death, and before each attack I was filled with dread and melancholy, falling to my knees to ask for God’s and the Virgin’s protection, after which I would then charge into battle and all fear would leave me. This feeling puzzled me, since I had already endured so many dangers at sea, fought in so many bloody battles ashore, taken part in so many marches through forests and mountains, and been at the storming and defense of towns—indeed, there were few major battles in New Spain in which I was not present. Yet, only after experiencing the capture and sacrifice of sixty-two of our men did this fear haunt me. Let those who know war decide if this was weakness—certainly I fully understood the daily danger I faced, yet continued to fight bravely, and my fear vanished whenever I saw the enemy.

Finally, it must be said that the Mexicans did not kill our men in battle if they could help it, but aimed only to wound and disable them, so that as many as possible could be taken alive to sacrifice to their war god Huitzilopochtli—after making the captives dance before him, adorned in feathers.

## CHAPTER CLVII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes orders the aqueduct of Chapultepec to be restored; and of various other matters.*

The first duty Cortes assigned to Quauhtemoctzin was to repair the Chapultepec aqueduct to restore fresh water to Mexico. He also ordered the burial of the dead and all other decaying remains, the cleaning of the streets, the repair of causeways and bridges, and the rebuilding of houses and palaces that had been destroyed during the siege. After two months, the inhabitants were to return to the city, and the quarters they and we were to occupy were marked out. Many other regulations were also made, though I have now forgotten them.

Quauhtemoctzin and his officers later complained to Cortes that many of our officers and soldiers had taken their wives and daughters, and they asked for their return. In response, Cortes said it would be difficult to recover the women from the soldiers but promised to do his best. He gave the Mexicans permission to search for these women and to bring those they found into his presence, so he could see which had converted to Christianity and which wished to return to their families and husbands. He promised to return any who wanted to leave. Cortes then issued orders to all three divisions to surrender any women who wished to go back to their families.

The Mexicans made good use of this permission, searching across various quarters, and found most of the women. However, only three expressed any desire to return home; the rest stayed with our soldiers. Many even hid when they heard their relatives were coming for them; others declared they would never return to idol worship; and many were pregnant.

We also built a secure harbor for our brigantines and constructed a fort to which a special alcalde was appointed—Alvarado (if I remember right), who held this position until it was later given to a certain Salazar de la Petrada, who came from Spain for that purpose.

Cortes next gathered all the gold, silver, and jewels found in Mexico, though there was little; for it was said Quauhtemoctzin had ordered all the treasures thrown into the lake four days before his capture. The Tlascallans, Tezcucans, Huexotzincans, Cholullans, and other allied troops who helped us during the siege had stolen much, as had our troops, especially those on the brigantines.

The crown officials were convinced Quauhtemoctzin had hidden most of the treasure and claimed that Cortes was pleased that the monarch would not reveal its location, as he could then keep the entire hoard for himself.

The officials proposed that Quauhtemoctzin and the king of Tlacupa, his closest friend and cousin, be tortured to force them to confess what happened to the treasures. Cortes, however, could not bring himself to insult such a great monarch as Quauhtemoctzin, whose territory was more than three times the size of Spain, merely out of a desire for gold. Moreover, the monarch's household assured us they had given all their gold—amounting to 380,000 pesos—which had been melted into bars, to the crown officials. It was certain that both the emperor's and Cortes's fifths were deducted from that sum, but the conquistadors remained dissatisfied and believed the actual amount was much higher. Several voiced suspicions to Alderete, the royal treasurer, that Cortes refused to torture the monarch only so he could secretly take all his riches. Not wanting such suspicions or to be held accountable later, Cortes finally consented to torture both men. Boiling hot oil was applied to their feet; they then confessed that, four days before Quauhtemoctzin's capture, all the gold, along with the cannons, crossbows, and muskets we lost on the night of sorrows, as well as those lost in Cortes's last defeat on the causeway, had been thrown into the lake. Divers were sent to the indicated spot, but found nothing. There was some truth to their claim—for I was present when Quauhtemoctzin led us to a large stone reservoir near his palace. From the water, we fished up a golden sun similar to the one Motecusuma had sent us, along with some jewels and trinkets, though none of great value. The king of Tlacupa also told us he had hidden other valuable items in large houses about twelve miles from Tlacupa and offered to show us the spot.

Alvarado was sent there with six soldiers, including myself, but when we arrived, the king admitted he had invented the story in hopes we would kill him in anger at the disappointment. So we returned without treasure, and no more gold was smelted for now. The truth is, there was very little left in Motecusuma's treasury by the time Quauhtemoctzin took over, since most of it had been sent as a gift to our emperor.

Among the items collected were many well-made objects, too numerous to describe. One thing is clear, though: many insisted that the emperor's fifths were not taken from even a third of what existed.

As I mentioned, Quauhtemoctzin had, in truth, ordered a quantity of gold and other items to be thrown into the lake. I and many of my companions confirmed this by diving at the spot he indicated. Each time, we brought up some small trinket, which Cortes and the royal treasurer later demanded from us. On one occasion, both accompanied us, bringing skilled divers, who retrieved various gold ornaments worth about a hundred pesos. This, however, was little compared to the treasure allegedly thrown into the lake on the monarch's orders.

When it came time to divide the gold, our officers and men believed each man's share would scarcely be worth accepting. Therefore, Father Olmedo, Avila, Alvarado, and other cavaliers suggested to Cortes that the whole sum be distributed among the invalids—the blind, lame, deaf, and those burned by powder—saying that those of us in good health would gladly agree. Their goal was to persuade Cortes to increase the distribution enough to make the shares worthwhile, as suspicion was growing that he had concealed much of Quauhtemoctzin's treasure.

Cortes answered that he would first see how much each man would receive, and try to satisfy everyone. Our men insisted the calculation be done at once, and it turned out each cavalry soldier would get 100 pesos, and the musketeers and crossbowmen—I forget exactly how much. None wanted this paltry share; complaints arose against Cortes and the royal treasurer, who excused himself by saying there was nothing more since Cortes had taken equal shares for himself and the crown, and also claimed large sums for horses lost and similar expenses. Many curious valuables had not gone into the common pool, but were reserved as special gifts for the emperor. Alderete concluded that they should not complain to him, but to Cortes.

Because there were supporters of the governor of Cuba and Narvaez's troops among us—who were already hostile to Cortes—they refused the gold, claiming they deserved more.

Around this time, Cortes was at Cojohuacan, living in a large palace, whose newly plastered and whitewashed walls were well suited for writing on with charcoal or colors. Every morning, a couple of biting epigrams or satires—prose or verse—would be found on these walls. For example: *The sun, moon, stars, firmament, sea, and earth all keep to their course, and if they stray, they correct themselves; may Cortes, in his love of power, learn from this.* Another read: *We are more conquered than conquerors, and should be called not conquerors of New Spain, but conquered of Cortes.* Or: *Cortes is not content with his general's share of gold, but wants the royal fifth too.* Again: *Alas! how my heart aches since seeing my portion of the booty!* And: *Diego Velasquez spent his fortune to discover the coast up to Panuco, but Cortes took the harvest.* Many such lines appeared, most of which I will not repeat here.

Cortes read these epigrams each morning. Most were in rhyme, and not as simple as those above. Being something of a poet himself, he wrote answers beneath them, referencing his own military feats and diminishing those of Diego Velasquez, Grijalva, and Narvaez. His replies were so sharp that the epigrams became more severe each day until he wrote: *White wall, paper of fools!* The next morning it read: *And of the wise and honest!* Cortes knew well who wrote these verses—Tirado, a partisan of Velasquez and son-in-law of the elder Ramirez from la Puebla; Villalobos, who later returned to Spain; Mansilla; and others always ready to oppose Cortes. The verses eventually became so scandalous that Father Olmedo told Cortes he should put a stop to it. Cortes accepted the advice and ordered, under penalty of harsh punishment, that no one should write such things on the walls anymore.

Still, we all found ourselves deeply in debt. A crossbow cost forty or fifty pesos, a musket one hundred, a sword fifty, and a horse between 800 and 1000 pesos or more. Everything was outrageously expensive! A surgeon named Mastre Juan, who had cured some severe wounds, demanded exorbitant fees. There was also an apothecary and barber, named Murcia, who also treated wounds. Various other swindles were practiced, and payment was demanded as soon as men received their share of loot.

Serious complaints arose from this, so Cortes appointed two honest and practical men to review each claim and set the charges. One was named Santclara, the other Llerena, and no debt was valid until approved by them. Everyone was given two years to pay any debt they could not cover immediately.

When the gold was smelted, an eighth of alloy per ounce was allowed to help the men buy necessities, as many ships had recently arrived at Vera Cruz with merchandise. But this did us more harm than good; the merchants simply increased prices to compensate, selling for five pesos what was worth three. This alloy—called *tepuzque* (copper) by the Indians—became such a common term among us that we began using it to describe notable cavaliers, for example, calling someone Señor Don Juan of so much tepuzque.

Complaints soon arose about the excess alloy mixed into the gold; eventually, two goldsmiths were caught stamping gold marks on pure copper and were hanged by Cortes. But these tales do not truly belong in this history.

Tired of constant criticism and demands for loans or advances in pay, Cortes decided to rid himself of the most troublesome men by establishing settlements in the provinces he saw as most suitable. He sent Sandoval to Tuztepec to settle there and punish the Mexican garrison in that township for killing sixty Spaniards and six Spanish ladies from Narvaez's force during our retreat. Sandoval was to leave a settlement in Medellin, then proceed to the Guacasualco river, found a settlement there, and subdue the province of Panuco.

Rodrigo Rangel and Pedro de Ircio were sent to Vera Cruz; the younger Juan Velasquez to Colima and Villa Fuerte, in the province of Zacatula; Christobal de Oli—who had recently married a Portuguese lady named Doña Filipa de Araujo—was sent to Mechoacan; and Francisco de Horozco was tasked with settling Oaxaca.

The inhabitants of those provinces at first refused to believe Mexico had fallen. But when they saw it was true, the kings and caciques of those distant lands sent ambassadors to congratulate Cortes on his victory and to declare themselves vassals of our emperor. They also came to see for themselves what we had done to that once formidable city. Each brought precious gifts of gold, and many brought their sons to show them the ruins of Mexico, just as we would show our children the site of ancient Troy.

I will now answer a question that surely occurs to the curious reader: why did we, the true Conquistadors of New Spain and mighty Mexico, not settle there, but choose other provinces instead? The answer is, we learned from Motecusuma’s records which provinces yielded the most gold, cacao, and cotton. All our ambitions lay with those regions that provided the monarch the largest gold tribute; and when we saw that even Sandoval—one of Cortes’s main officers and close friends—left Mexico for the provinces, we followed his example. This was especially true since no gold mines were near Mexico, nor did the area provide cotton or cacao—only maguey and maize, from which the people make their wine. We thus believed the countryside around the capital to be poor, so we settled elsewhere—though our hopes were greatly disappointed! Cortes had foreseen this, and I still recall him saying to me when I requested permission to join Sandoval: “Upon my conscience, brother Bernal Diaz del Castillo, you are making a great mistake. I would be delighted if you stayed with me in Mexico; but if you are determined to go with your friend Sandoval, I will not stop you, and may God go with you. You can trust that I will do what I can for your welfare, but I am sure you will soon regret leaving me.”

Before our departure, each man received an account of his share of the spoils and found that all the gold was claimed by crown officers in payment for the slaves we had bought at auction.

I will not trouble the reader with exact numbers of horsemen, crossbowmen, musketeers, or soldiers who left for the provinces, nor the exact date, but will simply state that the first troops left a few days after Quauhtemoctzin’s capture, and the second group two months later.

Now I must relate the important news that arrived at this time from Vera Cruz.

## CHAPTER CLVIII. {.chapter}
*How a certain Christobal de Tapia arrived in Vera Cruz, with the appointment of governor of New Spain.*

After Cortes had sent out the various detachments to fully subdue the provinces and establish settlements, a man named Christobal de Tapia, who had previously served as veedor in St. Domingo, arrived at Vera Cruz with the formal appointment as governor of New Spain. This position had been secured for him by Fonseca, bishop of Burgos. Tapia also carried several letters from the bishop addressed to Cortes, many others for the conquistadores, and additional correspondence for Narvaez’s officers, urging them to support Tapia’s claim to government. Besides his commission, which was properly drawn up by the bishop, Tapia possessed several other blank documents already signed, giving him the freedom to fill them as he wished and thereby granting himself unchecked power in New Spain. He was instructed to make extravagant promises to us if we supported him, but to threaten severe punishment should we refuse to obey.

Upon Tapia’s arrival at Vera Cruz, he showed his credentials to Gonzalo de Alvarado, who was then commandant, as Rodrigo Rangel, the previous office holder, had recently been removed by Cortes for reasons unknown to me.

Alvarado examined these documents with deep respect, recognizing them as imperial commands from the emperor; yet as for acting upon them, he told Tapia that he must first consult with the town’s alcaldes and regidors, carefully consider the matter, and investigate how Tapia obtained his commission, since it could not be expected that they would accept everything on trust. They also wished to verify whether the emperor himself was actually aware of this appointment.

Tapia, clearly dissatisfied with this response, was advised to go to Mexico, where he would find Cortes and all his officers and troops, who, upon reviewing his credentials, would surely give him proper respect.

On this, Tapia wrote to Cortes, notifying him of the authority by which he had come to New Spain. As Cortes was renowned for his tact, he responded to Tapia with much more courtesy than Tapia had used in his own letter, writing in a most pleasant and obliging manner. At the same time, he dispatched several of our prominent officers—Alvarado, Sandoval, Diego de Soto, Andreas de Tapia, and a certain Valdenebro—with orders, sent by courier, to return immediately from their stations in the provinces and meet Tapia in Vera Cruz. He also asked Father Melgarejo to go there in time for the meeting. However, Tapia had already set out for Mexico to meet Cortes, but was met on the road by our officers, who treated him with the highest respect and asked him to accompany them to Sempoalla. There, they requested he produce his papers, so they could verify if he was truly sent by the emperor and if his appointment bore the royal signature. If he could prove this, they said, they would at once pledge obedience on behalf of Cortes and all New Spain.

Tapia produced his papers, and the officers acknowledged, with respectful deference, that his commission appeared to come directly from his majesty. However, they insisted that the emperor likely did not know the full situation, nor the real state of affairs, and declared their intention to petition his majesty against Tapia’s appointment. They argued that Tapia was unfit for the crucial office of governor of New Spain and that the bishop of Burgos—an avowed enemy of the Conquistadores and loyal servants of the crown—had secured the commission without first informing the emperor of the circumstances, simply to benefit the governor of Cuba and Tapia himself, who had been promised marriage to the bishop’s niece, Doña Fonseca.

When Tapia saw that none of his eloquence, documents, letters, promises, or threats worked, he became so vexed that he fell ill. Our officers wrote to inform Cortes of everything that had occurred and suggested sending Tapia a few bars of gold and some jewels to console him in his disappointment. Cortes immediately sent these gifts, and our officers also purchased some slaves and three horses from Tapia, who soon returned to St. Domingo. He was not warmly received there, as the royal court of audience and the Hieronymite friars were greatly displeased that he had gone to New Spain against their strong advice—not only because the timing was bad, but also because his presence would provoke disputes and disrupt the conquest. Still, Tapia relied on the bishop of Burgos’s protection, and they did not dare to detain him, especially as his commission had been issued by the president of the Council of the Indies while the emperor was still in Flanders.

Now I will return to Cortes’ plan of establishing settlements. Alvarado, as mentioned before, was sent to a gold-rich province called Tuztepec—not to be confused with Tutepec, where Sandoval was also sent to establish a settlement. Sandoval had further orders to found a settlement on the Panuco River, because Cortes had learned that Francisco de Garay had launched a major expedition for the same end, and Cortes wanted to preempt him.

Around this time, our general sent Rodrigo Rangel back to Vera Cruz as commandant and instructed Gonzalo de Alvarado to escort Narvaez to Cojohuacan, where Cortes was still residing in the same palace, awaiting the completion of a new one in Mexico. Cortes wanted Narvaez brought to Mexico because he had heard that, in a conversation with Christobal de Tapia, Narvaez had said: “Señor, you have come with the same legitimate authority I did, but it will be as useless to you as it was to me, even though I arrived with many troops. I advise you to be on guard, lest they put you to death. Don’t waste time, for fortune still favors Cortes and his men. Try to get as much gold as you can, and hurry back to Spain to explain the situation to his majesty; and if you can count on bishop Fonseca’s support, so much the better for you. That is the best advice I can give.”

As Narvaez made his way to Mexico, he was amazed by the large towns he passed. But when he reached Tezcuco, then Cojohuacan, and saw the lake, the many large towns, and Mexico itself, he was utterly astonished.

Cortes had given orders that Narvaez was to be treated with the greatest respect, and, upon arrival, brought directly before him. When Narvaez came into Cortes’ presence, he knelt to kiss his hand. Cortes did not allow this and instead raised him up, embraced him warmly, and invited him to sit beside him. Narvaez said: “General! I am now convinced, from what I have seen in this vast country and its great cities, that of all the feats you have accomplished in New Spain, defeating me and my troops was the least of them; even if I had brought more men, we still would have lost. You deserve the highest honors and rewards for bringing such great cities under our emperor’s rule. The most renowned generals of our time will agree that your achievements surpass all others, just as the city of Mexico exceeds every other city in the world in strength and beauty. You and your brave men have truly earned the greatest rewards from his majesty.”

To these and other compliments, Cortes replied, “We did not do this by our power alone, but through the mercy of the Almighty who protected us, and the good fortune that ever accompanies the troops of our great emperor.”

Cortes now started making regulations for rebuilding the great city of Mexico. He designated sites for churches, monasteries, private houses, public squares, and set aside a section of the city for the Mexican population. The city was rebuilt with such splendor that, according to those who had traveled extensively through Christendom, Mexico, after its restoration, was larger and more populous than any city they had seen, and the style of its houses more magnificent.

While busy with these projects, Cortes received news that the province of Panuco had revolted, and its numerous, warlike inhabitants had risen in arms. Many Spanish settlers were killed, and the survivors pleaded urgently for help.

As soon as Cortes heard this, he decided to go himself, as all his chief officers were away, each with their detachments. He gathered all the cavalry, crossbowmen, musketeers, and other available troops. Fortunately, many reinforcements arrived in Mexico just then—some from Tapia’s group, some from Vazquez de Aillon’s ill-fated Florida expedition, and others from the Caribbee Islands and elsewhere.

Cortes left a strong garrison in Mexico under Diego Soto and marched out with only 250 Spanish troops, including the musketeers, crossbowmen, and 130 horsemen—with 10,000 Mexican auxiliaries added to this force.

Before Cortes left, Christobal de Oli returned from Mechoacan, which he had completely subdued, bringing with him many caziques, including the son of the chief Consi, along with a considerable amount of gold—though the gold was of poor quality, mixed with copper and silver.

This campaign in Panuco cost Cortes a large sum, which he later asked the emperor to reimburse, but the board of finance refused. They told him he should pay the expenses himself, as he had subdued the province for his own benefit and to preempt Garay, who was launching his own expedition to that region from Jamaica.

Cortes found the whole province of Panuco in a state of severe rebellion. He repeatedly offered peace, but to no avail, leading to a series of hard battles—ten of them quite severe, with three Spaniards and four horses killed, and about a hundred Mexican auxiliaries lost. The enemy had raised 60,000 men, but Cortes defeated them decisively, and they never again tried to fight him.

Finding ample provisions in that region, Cortes camped for eight days in a township near the battlefield, hoping to restore peace. He sent Father Olmedo with ten notable captive caziques, Doña Marina, and Aguilar to the enemy. Father Olmedo addressed the chiefs and asked why they still resisted, knowing that even mighty Mexico had been forced to yield to the emperor. He urged them to seek peace, assuring them Cortes would pardon their past actions. By this speech—mixed with a few threats—the chiefs began reflecting on their losses and the destruction of their towns, and at last agreed to send a peace offering to Cortes. Our general received these ambassadors kindly and assured them of his future friendship.

From there, Cortes marched with half his force to the river Chila, about twenty miles from the seacoast, and called upon the tribes across the river to make peace. But these people, still emboldened by the flesh of Spaniards they had eaten from Garay’s failed expeditions during the past two years, believed they could just as easily defeat Cortes. They trusted in the protection of their swamps, lakes, and rivers, and not only refused to reply but murdered Cortes’s ambassadors. Cortes waited several days for a change of heart, then seized all canoes on the river and, with additional boats crafted from Garay’s old wrecks, crossed the river with 150 men, including 50 horsemen, the rest being mostly crossbowmen and musketeers. The enemy had posted strong forces along the far bank, letting our troops cross in peace but waiting to receive them on land.

If previously the Guastecs had brought large armies into battle, this time they brought even more, attacking our men with fury. Two soldiers were killed and over thirty wounded, with three horses killed and fifteen wounded. Our Mexican allies also suffered losses, but Cortes dealt such a crushing blow to the enemy that they soon fled, leaving many dead and wounded.

Cortes quartered his troops that night in a deserted but well-provisioned town. The next morning, while exploring, our men entered a temple where they found various pieces of Spanish clothing, along with the scalps and tanned facial skins—beards attached—of several Spaniards. These pitiful remains were from Garay’s unfortunate men. Some of our troops recognized former comrades and even close friends in these skins. It was a deeply sorrowful scene, and our men took down those remains to give them Christian burial.

From there, Cortes moved to another town, staying constantly on guard, knowing the province’s tribes were fierce. His spies soon reported that the enemy was lying in wait to ambush our scattered men.

Forewarned, our troops were well prepared, so the enemy could do little harm, though they attacked with great courage for about half an hour before the cavalry and musketeers drove them off. In this fight, two horses were killed, seven more wounded, and fifteen men badly injured, three of whom died soon after. These Indians had the unusual habit, during retreat, of turning back three times to renew the fight—a tactic rare among local tribes. After this, the enemy fell back to a swift, deep river, and our cavalry and light infantry pursued them hard, inflicting many casualties.

The next day, Cortes advanced further into the countryside, passing through several towns, all deserted. In these places, they found underground vaults with large earthen jars of native wine. After five days of this, finding no one, they returned to the river Chila.

Cortes again invited the people on the far side of the river to negotiate, and this time was more successful. After so many losses and fearing another Spanish attack, the locals sent word that they would send ambassadors in four days, after gathering a gold present. Cortes waited patiently, but when the deadline passed and no one arrived, he attacked a major town set on a lake amid rivers and swamps. This he approached from the lakeside, ferrying troops and many Mexicans across at night using canoes tied together. They landed unobserved and stormed the town, catching everyone off guard. The town was sacked and most of its people killed, with the Mexican auxiliaries taking much loot.

Upon learning of this, surrounding settlements wasted no more time—they began sending peace envoys in great numbers within five days. Only the most remote mountain tribes, whose lands our troops had not yet reached, held back from seeking peace.

Cortes then founded a new town about four miles from the river Chila, stationing 150 Spaniards there, including 27 horsemen and 36 musketeers and crossbowmen. The local townships that had requested peace he divided among these men as encomiendas. He named the town Santisteban del Puerto and appointed Pedro Vallejo as commandant.

Cortes was just about to leave this new settlement and return to Mexico when he learned that three townships, previously leading the rebellion, were again plotting revolt. Their people had killed many Spaniards after having made peace and sworn loyalty to the emperor, and were actively trying to rally neighboring areas to attack and destroy the new settlement once Cortes had left with his troops. After confirming these reports, Cortes burned the three towns to the ground; though, in time, the same tribes rebuilt them.

About this time, the following misfortune occurred. Before leaving Mexico, Cortes had ordered supplies—wine, preserved fruit, biscuits, and horseshoes—to be shipped from Vera Cruz to Panuco. A vessel was quickly sent with these goods and arrived safely off the Panuco coast, only to be wrecked by a violent southern storm. The ship sank, but three of the crew survived by clinging to floating debris and were washed onto a small island, about sixteen miles from shore, partly covered in white sand.

Each night, numerous seals came ashore to sleep on the sand, providing food for the castaways, who killed and roasted them over a fire they had kindled by vigorously rubbing sticks, in the native style. By digging a well, they found fresh water, and even discovered a kind of fig tree, so starvation was avoided. Thus, they lived for two months, until they were rescued.

Having waited in vain at Santisteban del Puerto for the supply ship, Cortes wrote to his major-domo in Mexico to find out why the supplies had not arrived. The major-domo, suspecting disaster, sent another vessel to search. By the grace of God, this rescue ship neared the small island, where the three survivors, wisely keeping a fire burning at all times, were discovered. The reader can imagine their joy as they were brought aboard and brought to Vera Cruz. One of these men, named Celiano, later settled in Mexico.

Cortes was on his way back to Mexico when he learned that several mountain tribes had risen in arms and were attacking their neighbors who had allied with us. He resolved to end this unrest before reaching the capital; but these aggressive tribes, learning of his approach, ambushed his baggage train in a perilous mountain pass, killed many Indian porters, and plundered the supplies. The cavalry, coming to assist, lost two horses due to the rough terrain. When our troops reached the tribes' towns, the Mexicans showed little mercy, killing many and taking numerous prisoners. The local chief and his top aide were hanged, and the stolen baggage recovered.

After these executions, Cortes ordered the Mexicans to cease hostilities and summoned the region's chiefs and priests to send ambassadors, who promptly arrived and acknowledged allegiance to our emperor. Cortes appointed the brother of the executed man as the new cazique, and after restoring peace, proceeded on to Mexico.

I must mention that there were no people more wicked, uncivilized, or filthy in all New Spain than those of Panuco; nowhere were human sacrifices so frequent or so barbarous. The people were extreme drunkards and guilty of all sorts of abominations. Yet they received appropriate punishment: after our troops had punished the region several times by fire and sword, they later suffered far worse under Nuño de Guzman, who became their governor and sold almost the entire population as slaves to the islands, as will be seen later.

## CHAPTER CLIX. {.chapter}
*How Cortés and the officers of the crown send to Spain Motecuhzoma's wardrobe and the emperor’s share of the booty; and what followed.*

After the campaign in the province of Pánuco, Cortés focused on rebuilding the city of Mexico.

Alonso de Ávila, who had been sent to the island of Santo Domingo to communicate in Cortés’ name with the royal court of audiencia and the Hieronymite brotherhood, had by this time returned to Mexico. He brought Cortés the necessary authorization from those courts to subdue the whole of New Spain, turn its inhabitants into slaves, brand them with a hot iron, and distribute the Indians into encomiendas as was customary in Hispaniola, Cuba, and Jamaica. This power granted to Cortés was to remain effective until the emperor decided otherwise. The Hieronymite brotherhood properly informed his majesty about all this and sent a ship to Spain for that purpose. Even though the young emperor was then still in Flanders, their dispatches made it safely into his hands. Since the Hieronymite brotherhood knew very well of the ill will the bishop of Burgos had always shown toward us, they deliberately omitted to inform him about the nature of these dispatches; and generally, they only communicated with him on minor matters.

Alonso de Ávila, as I’ve mentioned before, was a fearless man and had once held a position directly under the bishop of Burgos. It was fortunate, then, that he happened to be away on the mission just mentioned in Santo Domingo when Cristóbal de Tapia arrived at Vera Cruz with the appointment of governor of New Spain. Tapia carried letters from the bishop addressed to Ávila, and in such a situation Ávila's strong-willed nature might well have hurt our general’s case.

Cortés, well aware of Ávila’s character, always sought to keep him at a distance; and now again, on the advice of Father Olmedo, he granted him the profitable town of Quauhtitlan, which would keep him occupied. Cortés also gave him a substantial sum of money, thereby winning him over completely. Soon after, Cortés entrusted him with a highly important mission, sending him and Quiñones, captain of the guards, to Spain as his personal representatives, and as representatives of New Spain in general. They were provided with two ships carrying to the emperor 88,000 pesos in gold bars and Motecuhzoma’s wardrobe, which until then had been in Quauhtemoc’s possession. This was a valuable gift, truly worthy of our great emperor, consisting of extremely precious jewels, pearls the size of hazelnuts, and other valuable stones that I should not care to list one by one, even if I could recall them all. At the same time, they sent the bones of the giants we found in the temple of Cojohuacan, like those previously given to us by the Tlaxcalans and sent to Spain on an earlier occasion.

Three tigers and several other curiosities—whose names I have now forgotten—were also sent on these two ships.

The chief magistrates of Mexico wrote a letter to the emperor, and we, the conquistadors, together with Father Olmedo and the royal treasurer, composed a humble address to our monarch. In it, we first commended the many important and faithful services that Cortés and all of us had rendered to his imperial majesty. We gave him a full account of the siege of Mexico and the discovery of the Southern Ocean, adding our conviction that these lands would bring great wealth to Spain. We then requested that his majesty send a bishop to New Spain, along with monks of different religious orders, all to be pious and well-educated men, so they could help us spread the holy Catholic faith here. We also respectfully petitioned that Cortés be appointed viceroy of New Spain, as he had shown himself to be a loyal and distinguished servant of the Spanish crown. Likewise, we requested for ourselves that all royal appointments in these lands be given exclusively to us, the conquistadors, or our sons. Further, we asked his majesty not to send any lawyers here, as such people, with all their learning, would only create lawsuits, discord, and confusion throughout the country. We then noted how Cristóbal de Tapia had been made viceroy of New Spain through the bishop of Burgos’s appointment, assuring his majesty that Tapia was unfit for such a major responsibility, and that if he had been allowed to assume it, New Spain would certainly have been lost again to the crown. We felt obliged to set forth all these facts, fearing that the bishop of Burgos not only failed to present our earlier dispatches to his majesty, but also misrepresented things, in order to favor Velázquez and Tapia, to the latter of whom he had promised the hand of his niece, Doña Petronella de Fonseca. Tapia had produced documents concerning his appointment, the authenticity of which was unquestionable, and which we had read with due respect. We would have obeyed their instructions at once if we thought Tapia fit for this role; but as he was neither a soldier, nor a man of suitable mind and resolve, nor did he have the other qualities needed for a viceroy, we found it necessary to inform his majesty of the full situation, which was the true purpose of our address. We then requested a decision, and particularly asked that the bishop of Burgos not be allowed to interfere in any matters concerning Cortés or us, as otherwise the conquests we planned would be interrupted; nor would we even be able to keep peace in the provinces already subdued. As evidence of the bishop’s hostility, we reported that he had forbidden the two harbor masters of Seville, Pedro de Isasaga and Juan López de Recalte, to allow any arms or soldiers intended for Cortés or our troops to leave that port. We also informed his majesty about the recent campaign in Pánuco, how the inhabitants were forced to sue for peace and became his vassals, the fierce fights they had with Cortés, and how they killed all the officers and soldiers Garay had sent there over time. The campaign, we wrote, had cost Cortés over 60,000 pesos out of his own pocket, for which he had asked reimbursement from the royal treasurers in vain. We added that Garay was preparing a new expedition in Jamaica destined for Pánuco, but that it would be wise for his majesty to order him to postpone it until we had fully subdued the territory, so as to avoid senseless losses and prevent an insurrection, which would certainly result if Garay arrived ahead of us—since the Indians, particularly the Mexicans, would see this as proof of discord among the Spanish leaders, conspiracies would arise, and there would be open rebellion.

We included these points and many others in our letter to his majesty. Nor was Cortés idle—he sent the emperor a private dispatch with a twenty-page account of every detail, which I read carefully and remember well. Among other things, he asked his majesty’s permission to go to Cuba to arrest the viceroy Diego Velázquez and send him to Spain for trial, on charges of sending men to kill him, Cortés, and of generally disrupting affairs in New Spain.

Carrying these dispatches, the money, and other valuables, Quiñones and Ávila set sail from Vera Cruz on December 20, 1522, safely passing through the Bahama Channel. During their voyage, two of the three tigers escaped and wounded several of the crew; so they decided to kill the third one, which was the most vicious of them all. Without further incident, they arrived at the island of Terceira and anchored there. During their stay, Quiñones—who fancied himself very brave and was quite amorous—became involved in a quarrel over a woman and received such a severe head wound that he died a few days later, leaving Ávila to handle our business alone.

The two vessels then continued their journey, but not far past Terceira they encountered the notorious French corsair Jean Florin, who took both ships, capturing Ávila and the crews and bringing them to France.

Around that same time, Jean Florin seized another ship bound from Santo Domingo, loaded with over 20,000 pesos, as well as pearls, sugar, and many cowhides. With these prizes, the corsair returned to France wealthy and presented magnificent gifts from the loot to the king and the lord high admiral of France. The whole of France was astounded at the treasures we were sending to our emperor. This, in fact, ignited a strong desire in the French king to try to seize parts of the Caribbean islands; and it was on this occasion that he declared our emperor could wage war against him with nothing but the wealth he received from the West Indies! And at that time the Spaniards had not yet subdued or even discovered Peru. The French king also sent a message to our emperor, saying that since he and the king of Portugal had divided the world between them without offering him a share, he would like to see our father Adam’s will, to see if they truly had the sole right to these lands. Until they could show him such proof, he declared himself justified in seizing anything he found at sea. Indeed, he soon sent Jean Florin out again with a small fleet, which took more prizes at sea between Spain and the Canaries; but as Florin was returning with these riches to France, he was intercepted by three or four Biscayan warships, who fought him so fiercely that after a tough battle he was forced to surrender, along with his ships, becoming a prisoner in Seville. The prisoners were then sent directly to the emperor, who, upon learning of their capture, ordered their trial. They were found guilty, and all were hanged in the harbor of Pico.

Such was the unfortunate end of Jean Florin, who carried off to France all the gold we meant for our emperor! As for Ávila, he was held under close guard in a French fortress, with the French king hoping for a large ransom for someone entrusted with such immense treasure from the New World to Spain; but Ávila managed to bribe the fortress commandant and secretly sent word to Spain about his mission. He even succeeded in sending Cortés’ dispatches and our letters, either to the hands of Licentiate Nuñez (Cortés’ cousin and royal council reporter in Madrid), or to Cortés’ father or Diego de Ordás. These documents were quickly forwarded to his majesty in Flanders, without being disclosed to the bishop of Burgos, who could not hide his pleasure at the news of the gold and dispatches falling into French hands.

From that point on, we had nothing more to fear from the bishop, because his majesty was now fully informed of all the circumstances. Despite being saddened by the loss of so much gold, he was in a way glad it had ended up with the French king, as it would convince that monarch that we would never let our emperor lack money to wage war against him. He also sent strict orders to the bishop of Burgos to support Cortés fully regarding New Spain, adding that he himself would soon visit Spain to investigate the dispute between Cortés and the governor of Cuba. When news of Ávila’s capture and the loss of the treasure he carried reached New Spain, we were all deeply dismayed; but Cortés immediately gathered all the gold and silver he could, newly procured from the province of Mechoacan, and had a cannon cast from it as a present for the emperor, naming it the phoenix.

Quauhtitlan was still governed in Ávila’s name until, three years later, his brother Gil González arrived in New Spain, empowered by Ávila to take over the management of his native holdings, since Ávila himself was determined never again to cross the ocean, though he had obtained the position of treasurer of Yucatan.

But these matters stray from my main story, so I will next recount what happened to Sandoval and the other officers that Cortés sent to form settlements in the provinces. So many things occurred during the interval that I was forced to interrupt the thread of my narrative—and they were certainly too important to conceal from the attentive reader. There was the arrival of Cristóbal de Tapia in Vera Cruz, compelling Cortés to call Sandoval and Alvarado back from their expeditions in the provinces, so they could help him with their excellent counsel in such a significant matter; there was also the uprising in Pánuco, and the mission to our emperor; and so my narrative necessarily became a bit confused.

## CHAPTER CLX. {.chapter}
*How Sandoval arrives in the town of Tustepec, what he did there; his march to the river Guacasualco, and what further happened.*

As soon as Sandoval reached the township of Tustepec, messengers of peace came to him from every part of the province, with only a few Mexican chiefs choosing not to appear, out of fear of the sixty Spaniards and their wives (all from Narvaez’s corps) who had been massacred there. It was two months after this tragic event that I arrived at Tustepec with Sandoval, and I took up my quarters in a sort of tower, which had once been a temple. In this very tower, my unfortunate countrymen had sought refuge during the attack by the inhabitants, defending themselves until hunger, thirst, and wounds ended their lives. I chose this tower, which was very high, to escape the mosquitoes that plagued us continually in this area; it was also conveniently close to Sandoval’s quarters.

Sandoval was eager to capture the chiefs responsible for the massacre, and eventually succeeded in seizing the principal one, who was tried and sentenced to the stake. Several other Mexicans were brought in at the same time, but though they also deserved death, they were allowed to go free, so that one suffered for all. Sandoval then sent to the towns of the Tzapotecs, about forty miles further on, asking them to send messengers of peace; when they refused, he ordered Captain Briones (who had commanded one of the brigantines and had boasted of his service in the Italian wars) to march against them with one hundred men, including thirty crossbowmen and musketeers, and one hundred allies from the friendly provinces. The Tzapotecs, warned of Briones’s approach, lay in ambush and suddenly attacked him, wounding more than a third of his men; one died soon after. The Tzapotecs lived in the most rugged and inaccessible mountain regions, impassable for cavalry, and even foot soldiers found it difficult to move along their narrow trails. The mountains are constantly covered with mist and dew, making the ground so slippery it was dangerous to proceed. Their lances were much longer than ours and tipped with blades of flint sharper than Spanish steel. They also used light shields covering their whole body, along with bow, pike, and sling. When these agile people jumped from rock to rock, out of our men’s reach, they communicated by piping and shouting; the sounds echoed through the mountains for a long time before fading away.

Captain Briones returned with many wounded, having himself been struck by an arrow. The township where this defeat happened was called Tiltepec, whose people later submitted voluntarily. The district was then given as a commendary to a soldier named Ojeda, known as the one-eyed, who now lives in the town of San Ildefonso.

When Briones reported on his expedition, speaking at length about the bravery of the Tzapotecs, Sandoval reminded him of the many bloody battles he had claimed to fight in Italy, and said, “It seems, Captain, that this was tougher than any of your earlier battles?”

Briones, rather annoyed, swore he would rather face heavy artillery and a great army, even the Turks and Saracens, than the Tzapotecs, giving good reasons for his statement.

Sandoval answered, “Then I’m sorry I gave you that command; after all your stories of Italian campaigns, I thought this expedition would be easy for you. How will these Tzapotecs view us now? They certainly will not think as highly of our bravery as they did before!”

After this failed expedition, Sandoval sent word to the inhabitants of Xaltepec that they should send ambassadors and declare themselves vassals of our emperor. This tribe also belonged to the Tzapotecs, and their country bordered that of the Minxes, another brave and warlike tribe, with whom the Xaltepecs were at war. Twenty of the chief caziques and principal leaders soon arrived, bringing a gift of gold dust in ten small tubes, along with pretty ornaments. They wore very large cotton cloaks, embroidered in the manner of Moorish mantles, and presented themselves to Sandoval with great respect. He received them cordially and gave them some glass beads. Emboldened by his kindness, they requested that some of his men (teules) accompany them home to aid in their war against the Minxes; but as Sandoval could not spare his men (many of Briones’s detachment were wounded, and some had recently died of fever), he put them off with polite words, promising he would ask Malinche, in Mexico, to send help. Meanwhile, he would send eight of his men with them to explore the dangerous passes and the part of the country where they planned to attack the Minxes. Sandoval’s real reason for sending these ten soldiers was to have them visit the district and the gold mines of the Xaltepecs. He kept three of the caziques with him and sent the others home with our group. Among Sandoval’s company were three soldiers named Castillo, all of whom went with the caziques. One was Alonso de Castillo, called the *Discreet* for his quick, suitable answers; the second was myself, called the *Gallant* for my manner at the time; and the third Castillo, always thoughtful before responding and usually comical, earned the nickname the *Deliberate*. Enough of that. We arrived in the province and began to explore the mines, aided by many Indians, who washed gold dust for us in troughs from three different river sands, yielding four tubes of gold dust, each about as thick as a middle finger. Sandoval was delighted, and decided the country must be rich with gold mines. He divided the province’s townships among his men who were to stay behind, taking Guazpaltepec for himself, the richest property then near the mines, from which Sandoval collected over 15,000 pesos in gold, surprised by his good luck. He made Luis Marin chief commander, giving him lands equal to an earldom, though in time these proved less valuable than expected. Sandoval offered me very good and valuable townships—Maltlatan, Ozotekipa, and Orizaba, where the viceroy now has a mill—but I refused, feeling honor-bound not to leave Sandoval, my good friend. He appreciated my reasons, and later did everything to support me in our campaigns together.

In this province, Sandoval founded a town which, by Cortes’s wish, he named Medellin after Cortes’s birthplace in Estremadura. There was a bay in the province where the Chalchocucea river (or, as we called it, the Banderas stream) emptied. There, in the Grijalva expedition, we made the 16,000 pesos; initially all communication with Spain was through this harbor, until Vera Cruz became the main port.

We then marched toward the river Guacasualco. We may have been about 240 miles from the last-mentioned town when we reached the edge of the Citla province, which had the healthiest climate, the best provisions, and the densest population of all we had seen. This province was forty-eight miles long and as wide, highly populated.

Upon arrival at the river Guacasualco, we summoned the caziques of the various townships, but after three days with no reply, we assumed the inhabitants were preparing to attack us. At first they intended to prevent us from crossing the river, but soon reconsidered and, on the fifth day, entered our camp with provisions and some pure gold ornaments. They offered to provide us with enough large canoes if we wished to cross. Sandoval thanked them but first consulted with us whether the whole force should cross at once. We decided four men should go first and assess the situation in the township on the other side and bring the chief cazique, Tochel, under our control. Four men crossed, scouted the area, and returned with everything appearing peaceful, bringing Tochel’s son with another small gold gift. Sandoval, pleased, asked for 100 canoes, which were lashed in pairs to carry the horses across. We crossed on the day of Pentecost, so named the township Villa de Espiritu Santo; also because it was the anniversary of our victory over Narvaez with the cry of Espiritu Santo.

Because this province submitted without resistance, the main body of Sandoval’s force settled there; including, besides Sandoval, Luis Marin, Diego de Godoy, Francisco de Medina, Francisco Marmolejo, Francisco de Lugo, Juan Lopez de Aguirre, Hernando de Montes de Oca, Juan de Salamanca, Diego de Azamar, Mexia Rapapelo, Alonso de Grado, Licentiate Ledesma, Luis de Bustamente, Pedro Castellar, Captain Briones, Mantilla, myself, and other cavaliers and distinguished men too many to name. To give an idea of our number: in parades or alarms, we could muster over eighty horsemen, which at that time was equivalent to more than five hundred today; for horses were then rare and expensive in New Spain, sometimes impossible to buy at any price.

Sandoval divided the following provinces into commendaries, after our troops had explored them: Guacasualco, Guazpaltepec, Tepeca, Chinanta, and the Tzapotecas; and along the river banks: Copilco, Cimatan, Tabasco, the mountains of Cachula, the lands of the Zoqueschas and Quilenes, and the districts of Tacheapa, Cinacatan, and Papanachasta. These were split among the settlers of the new town. I would have been content to keep what I received, but the country was not productive, and we found ourselves in endless lawsuits with three towns that slowly rose in the region: Vera Cruz claimed Guazpaltepec, Chinanta, and Tepeca; Tabasco claimed the Quilenes and Zoques; Santo Ildefonso claimed the Tzapotecs’ area. If we had kept our original boundaries, we would have been wealthy. But when his majesty ordered accurate boundaries for each Indian and Spanish town, our land was so greatly reduced that we ended with almost nothing—which is why Guacasualco, once the finest and most vibrant settlement inhabited by the highest conquistadors, dwindled down to a mere village today with only a small population. While Sandoval was busy founding the town and conquering other provinces, news came of a ship entering the river Aguayalco—a very poor harbor, about sixty miles from Guacasualco. The passengers on this ship included Donna Catalina, Cortes’s wife; her brother Juan Juarez (who later settled in Mexico); Lady Gambrana and her sons; Villegas and his daughters; their grandmother; and several married ladies. If I recall right, also Elvira Lopez, a tall woman, the wife of Juan Palma, who traveled with us to New Spain but later was hanged, after which his widow married an Argueta. Among the gentlemen was Antonio Diosdato, who settled in Guatemala.

As soon as Sandoval learned of their arrival, he left with most officers and some soldiers to greet these ladies and their companions. I remember the heavy rain, the difficulty of crossing rivers which had flooded, and the strong northern gales which forced the ship into harbor. Donna Catalina and all the passengers were delighted to see us and immediately accompanied us back to Guacasualco. From there, Sandoval sent a courier to Mexico to inform Cortes of his wife’s arrival. She, along with the other ladies, soon left for Mexico accompanied by Sandoval, Briones, Lugo, and other cavaliers.

It is said Cortes was displeased when he heard of their arrival, though he did not show it, and even arranged for a splendid reception for his wife. On her way to Mexico, she was honored everywhere, and upon arrival, the city celebrated with festivities and tournaments. But her happiness was short-lived; within three months, word came that she had died suddenly of a violent asthma attack.

Now I must relate what happened to Villafuerta, sent to colonize Zacatula, and Juan Alvarez Chico, who went to Colima for the same purpose. Both faced fierce resistance; the inhabitants rose up in arms and killed several Spaniards. Cortes was deeply annoyed by these unfortunate results, but just as Oli returned from Mechoacan with much gold, having restored peace there, Cortes regarded him as the best man to subdue Zacatula and Colima. He sent Oli there as commander-in-chief with fifteen horsemen and thirty musketeers and crossbowmen.

When Oli got near Zacatula, a large group of the enemy ambushed his troops in a narrow pass, killed two men and wounded several, though he still repelled them and reached the town founded by Villafuerta, finding it in a miserable state. No one dared leave to visit the towns making up their commendary, as the natives had already killed four Spaniards who attempted to collect tribute.

In all provinces with Spanish settlements, chief colonists are granted commendaries, and when these go to demand tribute, the inhabitants often rise up and kill any Spaniard they can. Christobal de Oli had many battles before he could suppress the rebellion, losing many men. As for Juan Alvarez Chico, sent to settle Colima, I can’t recall exactly, but I think he was killed battling the natives.

After Oli believed he had restored peace, he returned to Mexico, having just married a beautiful Portuguese lady, Filipa de Araujo. No sooner had he arrived in Mexico than he learned both Zacatula and Colima had rebelled again. This was about when Sandoval reached Mexico with Cortes’s wife; Cortes decided to send Sandoval to the rebellious provinces, though he had only a few horsemen and fifteen crossbowmen and musketeers. Yet all were veteran conquistadors, who quickly crushed the rebels, punished two caziques in Colima, ended the revolt, and peace was restored permanently. Sandoval also succeeded in Zacatula, soon returning to Mexico.

Meanwhile, at Guacasualco we too had plenty to do. Hardly had Sandoval left when most of the provinces where we held commendaries revolted, and it was with difficulty we restored peace. The first to rebel was part of Xaltepec, in rugged, nearly inaccessible mountains, inhabited by the Tzapotecs; then followed Cimatan and Copilco, between large rivers and swamps, and within forty-eight miles of Guacasualco a Spaniard was murdered on his own property.

While all of us regidors, with Captain Luis Marin and one of the alcaldes, were organizing an expedition against the rebels, we were told that a small vessel had entered the harbor, carrying Juan Bono de Quexo. He claimed to have authority from our emperor, so we resolved to meet with him at once.

Bono had first come to New Spain with Narvaez and was known to us all. After greeting us warmly, he asked for a council of the town’s leaders to present the powers entrusted to him by his majesty, along with instructions from the bishop of Burgos, whose letters he brought for all of us. He had a number of blank papers signed by the bishop, which Bono filled out with the names of regidors and made lavish promises, as instructed by the bishop. The appointments were to be given to the designated people if we surrendered the country to Cristobal de Tapia. But Bono did not know Tapia had already returned to St. Domingo, nor that the bishop never suspected we would not accept Tapia’s authority. My name appeared among these appointments as regidor.

Bono kept his commission and papers secret until all council members were assembled; but as soon as he explained the business, we ended any debate by telling him Tapia had long since left New Spain, and advised him to go to Mexico and present himself to Cortes.

When Bono learned Tapia had left, he was bitterly disappointed and sailed the next day to Vera Cruz, then journeyed to Mexico. What passed between him and Cortes I do not know, but I believe Cortes provided him money for the trip back to Spain.

I could tell much of the battles we fought and the hardships we endured at Guacasualco, suppressing constant insurrections, but now it is time to tell of Alvarado’s expedition to the province of Tutepec.

## CHAPTER CLXI. {.chapter}
*How Alvarado marches to the province of Tutepec, to build a town there; and how far he succeeded in subduing the country, and in founding a colony.*

To describe Alvarado’s expedition to Tutepec, we return to just after the conquest of Mexico. After word of the city’s fall spread, ambassadors came from everywhere to congratulate Cortes and declare their tribes vassals of our emperor. Among these was the powerful tribe of Tecuantepec-Tzapotecs, whose ambassadors brought gold and explained they were at war with their neighbors, the Tutepecs, because those had attacked them for submitting to Spain. The Tutepecs, who lived on the South Sea coast, possessed much gold, both raw and in ornaments. They asked Cortes for help: some cavalry, musketeers, and crossbowmen.

Cortes kindly assured them he would send Tonatio (Alvarado) with them. Alvarado was dispatched with a strong detachment—180 men (thirty-five of them horsemen), with twenty more to join him in Guaxaca, where Captain Francisco de Orozco commanded.

Alvarado left Mexico in 1522, marching first to a mountainous area where trouble was rumored, but he found peace and friendly people; nonetheless, he moved slowly and reached Tutepec only after forty days. The inhabitants, hearing of his coming, welcomed him with great ceremony and took him to their largest township with its temples and principal buildings. The houses, made of straw, were crowded; in that hot country, there were no upper floors or stone construction. Father Olmedo warned Alvarado not to billet troops in the houses, fearing that the inhabitants might set fire and trap them. Alvarado agreed, camping his men at the town’s edge. The cazique soon arrived with a valuable gold gift, repeating this almost daily, and provided the troops plenty of food. Seeing how much gold there was, Alvarado asked for a pair of stirrups made of the finest gold, providing his own as models; those they made were excellent.

Despite all the gold received from the cazique, Alvarado had him imprisoned a few days after arriving, because the Tecuantepec people had warned him that the whole province was close to rebelling, and that the chiefs only wanted to lure him into their town to burn him and his men alive.

Many credible witnesses have said Alvarado’s real motive for this abuse was to extort more gold. In any case, the cazique gave him gold worth 30,000 pesos, and died in prison from grief. Father Olmedo tried to console him in his final days, but failed; his sorrow was too deep. The chieftainship passed to his son, from whom Alvarado got even more gold.

Alvarado then sent a detachment to visit the province’s other towns, distributing these among the settlers of the new town he established, naming it Segura for most of its inhabitants were formerly from Segura de la Frontera or Tepeaca. Afterward, he had the large collection of gold carefully packed to take back to Mexico for Cortes; he claimed Cortes had told him to collect every piece of gold he could to send to his majesty, to make up for what Jean Florin had taken to France, and that his orders were not to share any with his men. When Alvarado was about to leave, a group of mostly musketeers and crossbowmen conspired to kill him and his brothers because he refused to share the gold or assign lucrative townships.

Fortunately, the plot was revealed to Father Olmedo by a conspirator named Trebijo on the night before the act was planned. Father Olmedo told Alvarado, who was about to go hunting with the conspirators. Alvarado feigned a sudden pain in his side and told the others, “Gentlemen, I must return to quarters; send a barber to bleed me.”

Once back, Alvarado summoned his brothers Jorge and Gonzalo Gomez, the alcaldes and the alguacils, and had the conspirators arrested; two were quickly sentenced to hang. One was Salamanca of Condado, formerly a pilot; the other, Bernardino Levantisco. Both died repentant, after Father Olmedo counseled them on their crime’s gravity. This stern example restored order, and Alvarado was able to leave for Mexico with the gold in safety.

Though Alvarado had founded a town, it quickly failed; the settlers had poor land, the climate was extremely hot and unhealthy; many Spaniards fell ill, and the Indian naborias and slaves died rapidly. The place was overrun with mosquitoes, mice, and even lice—not to mention Alvarado had taken all the gold. The residents decided to leave, some returning to Mexico, some to Guaxaca, others to Guatemala. When Cortes learned of this, he opened a formal inquiry, and found the abandonment had been decided in a council of the alcaldes and regidors. A sentence of death was pronounced but Father Olmedo pleaded with Cortes to soften the punishment, so at length Cortes reluctantly commuted it to banishment.

So ended the ill-fated colony of Tutepec, which never recovered, for the unhealthy climate persisted, though the land remained rich. The inhabitants, bitter about Alvarado’s cruelty and injustice, revolted again as soon as the Spaniards left, forcing Alvarado to return and once more bring them to submission.

## CHAPTER CLXII. {.chapter}
*How Francisco de Garay arrives with an extensive armament in the river Panuco; how far he was successful; and of many other circumstances.*

I have above mentioned that Francisco de Garay was governor of Jamaica, and that he already possessed great wealth, when he heard of the rich countries we had discovered in our expeditions under Cordoba and Grijalva, and of the 20,000 pesos with which we returned to Cuba on our second voyage.

When he therefore received information of a new armament that was destined for New Spain, under command of Hernando Cortes, he himself was seized with a great desire likewise to discover some new countries, and certainly he had more wealth at his command than we had, to fit out an armament for such a purpose. He had learnt a good deal about the new countries from our old chief pilot Alaminos; of their riches, and how thickly populated the provinces were on the river Panuco; and as several other sailors who had accompanied us on those expeditions, confirmed what Alaminos had told him, he thought it worth his while to request his majesty to grant him the permission to make further discoveries on the river Panuco, and to appoint him governor of all the lands he should discover. For this purpose he despatched his major-domo, Juan de Torralva, to Spain, with letters and presents for those gentlemen who at that time governed the affairs of India, begging of them to procure him the appointment above-mentioned.

His Majesty was at that time in Flanders, and the president of the council of the Indies, Don Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca, bishop of Burgos and titular archbishop of Rosano, with the two licentiates Zapata and Vargas, and the secretary Lopez de Conchillos, governed the affairs of India just as they thought proper. Garay therefore easily obtained the appointment of adelantado and governor of the provinces bordering on the river St. Peter and St. Paul, and of all the countries he should discover.

By virtue of this appointment he fitted out three vessels, having on board 240 men; including a strong body of cavalry, crossbow-men, and musketeers. The chief command of this armament he gave to Alonso Alvarez Pinedo, who, as I have above mentioned, was soon cut off, with the greater part of his men, by the Indians, so that there was only one vessel with sixty men that escaped to Vera Cruz, who, with their captain, Comargo, entered our army.

Garay, being ignorant of the miserable termination of this expedition, sent out two more vessels, under command of Diaz de Auz and Ramirez, with many soldiers, horses, a quantity of provisions, and a considerable store of arms of various kinds; but when these vessels arrived in the river Panuco, and nowhere met with any traces of the other armament, excepting a few pieces of burnt wood of the first vessels, lying on the shore, they likewise put into Vera Cruz. Though I have mentioned all this above, it was nevertheless necessary to recapitulate these circumstances here, to render the whole more intelligible to the reader.

After Garay had thus spent so much money to no purpose, and heard of the great good fortune which attended Cortes; of the large towns he had discovered, and of the vast treasures in gold and jewels which he had accumulated in New Spain, envy, as well as thirst for riches, also rose up in his breast to torment him; and he was resolved to fit out as extensive an armament as he possibly could, and to take the command of it himself. He accordingly equipped a small fleet, consisting of eleven vessels and two brigantines, on board of which there were 130 horse and 840 foot, most of the latter being armed with muskets and crossbows. As he was a man of great wealth, he spared no expense in fitting out this splendid armament. With this fleet Garay left Jamaica in the month of June, of the year 1523, sailed in the direction of Cuba, and thence ran into the harbour of Xagua, where he learnt that Cortes had already subdued the whole province of Panuco; that he had founded a colony there, and that the expedition had cost him above 60,000 pesos; that he had petitioned his majesty to unite the government of this province with that of New Spain, and to appoint him the viceroy. This of itself was disheartening to Garay; but when he further heard of the heroic deeds of Cortes and his companions, and how we with a mere handful of men had gained the victory over Narvaez, although he had an army of 1300 men, besides eighteen heavy guns, he began to fear the good fortune of our general. His apprehensions were further augmented by what he heard from several distinguished personages of Cuba, who had come to pay their respects to him at Xagua; among these was also the licentiate Zuazo, whom the royal court of audience at St. Domingo had expressly sent to Cuba, to reside near Diego Velasquez. From the different interviews which Garay had with Zuazo, he soon foresaw that, if he proceeded to Panuco, he would have to dispute its possession with Cortes; he therefore proposed to Zuazo that he should accompany him thither, and act as a mediator between himself and Cortes. To this Zuazo replied, that he was not at liberty to leave his present abode without permission from his superiors, but that he would follow him as soon as possible.

Garay then weighed anchor and sailed in the direction of Panuco. He encountered very boisterous weather at sea, so that he was driven too far north off the mouth of the river Palmas, which he entered with his fleet on the day of Santiago de Compostella. Here he sent several of his officers, with a small detachment of his troops, on shore, who returned with so bad an account of the country that Garay determined to leave this place and go in search of the river Panuco, and to repair to the town Cortes had founded, where, at the same time, he would be nearer to Mexico. Upon this, Garay again required the whole of the officers and soldiers to take the oath of fidelity, and to promise implicit obedience to him as captain-general. He likewise appointed the alcaldes, the regidors, with all the chief authorities of a town he intended to found, and to which he said he would give the name of Garayana. He now disembarked the whole of his men and horses, and gave the command of the fleet to an officer named Grijalva, whom he ordered to sail as close as possible to the shore, while he marched with his troops along the coast. The first two days he passed over a desolate and boggy country; he then crossed a river, which took its source in the mountains, lying about twenty miles inland, and arrived in a township which was quite deserted by its inhabitants, but where he found abundance of maise and fowls, besides the delicious fruit of the guayaba tree. The soldiers likewise brought in a few of the inhabitants prisoners, who understood the Mexican language; and Garay, after making them handsome presents, sent them to the neighbouring townships to incline the inhabitants peaceably towards him. He then marched round a large morass, and visited several townships, everywhere meeting with the kindest reception from the inhabitants, who brought him quantities of fowls, and a species of geese which they catch among the swamps. Many of his men had by this time become wearied of marching up and down the country; and having got it into their heads that the officers withheld from them some kinds of the provisions which the inhabitants brought in, a part of the troops rebelled, and plundered these townships for three days successively. On the fourth day, the whole of the troops again marched forward, with some Indian guides, and arrived at a very broad river, which they had no other means of crossing but by canoes which were furnished them by the friendly townships just mentioned. The horses were obliged to swim across, each rider in a canoe leading his horse by the bridle; but as there were a considerable number of horses, it was a very tedious business, and five were unfortunately drowned. At length the whole of the troops had passed across, but they had to encounter another formidable morass, through which they found their way after undergoing many fatigues, and so reached the province of Panuco. Here Garay expected to have found provisions in abundance; but the whole of the townships had scarcely any food left for themselves, while the inhabitants were still in a very excited state, owing to the recent incursion which Cortes had made into this neighbourhood; and wherever there were any provisions left, the Indians took care to hide them as soon as they received information of the approach of so large a body of troops and horses; indeed they even totally deserted their towns, so that in the very place where Garay had thought to rest and refresh his troops, he only encountered greater difficulties and fatigues. In the deserted houses his men found nothing but mice, moschitoes, and lice, which made an unmerciful attack upon the new comers. To all this misery was added, that the fleet, which should have sailed close into the shore, and on board of which there was abundance of food, had not arrived in the harbour, nor had any tidings of it been received. The information with respect to the non-arrival of the vessels was given them by a Spaniard, who, on account of some misdemeanour or other, had been obliged to quit the town of Santisteban del Puerto. This man likewise informed Garay’s men that there was a town not far off, and also that the Mexican territory was not very distant, which, he added, was amazingly fertile, and inhabited by wealthy personages. This account greatly excited the men, so that they began to stroll about the country in small bodies, plundered every place they came to, and took the road leading to Mexico.

Garay, who was well acquainted with the turbulent spirit of his troops, and fearing he should not be able to keep them much longer together, despatched Diego de Ocampo, one of his chief officers, with a letter to Pedro Vallejo, who was at that time Cortes’ commandant of Santisteban, to learn which way he was inclined. In this letter Garay informed Vallejo that he had been appointed by his majesty governor of these provinces; that he had disembarked his troops in the river Palmas; and that at last, after undergoing excessive fatigues, he had reached the land of his destination.

Vallejo gave Ocampo and those who accompanied him a very honorable reception, answered in the most polite terms, and assured him Cortes would be delighted to have for neighbour so distinguished a governor; but he told him that he had expended a large sum of money in subjecting this province, of which he also had been appointed governor by his majesty. Garay, however, was at liberty, continued Vallejo, to march his troops into the town of Santisteban whenever he thought proper, and he would render him every service in his power; only he must beg of him not to allow his men to ill-use the Indian population, of which two townships had already complained to him.

Vallejo then sent an express to Cortes, inclosing Garay’s letter to him, and gave him at the same time a circumstantial account of the posture of affairs, adding, that he must either send him a strong reinforcement of troops, or repair in person to Santisteban.

Cortes, on the receipt of Vallejo’s letter, sent for father Olmedo, Alvarado, Sandoval, and Gonzalo de Ocampo, brother to him whom Garay had despatched to Vallejo. These gentlemen he instantly sent off to Garay with certain papers containing his appointment of governor of all the countries he might subdue, granted to him by his majesty, until the lawsuit should have terminated which was pending between him (Cortes) and the governor of Cuba. The answer which Vallejo had given to Diego de Ocampo was perfectly satisfactory to Garay, and he marched his troops close up to the town of Santisteban; but Vallejo being informed that a small detachment of the latter was strolling heedlessly about the large and beautiful township of Nechaplan, he sent out a body of his own men to attack them, who captured above forty of their numbers, and brought them in prisoners to Santisteban, which, it appears, was the very thing these men had desired. Garay was greatly incensed at this, demanded Vallejo to deliver up the men to him again, and threatened, unless he complied, to punish him by virtue of the royal authority with which he was vested. Vallejo, however, answered, that his reason for seizing these men was, because they were marching about the country without any legal authority, and had plundered the inhabitants: and that he (Vallejo) should act up to Cortes’ instructions until he received some especial command from his majesty to the contrary; adding, that he must again request him not to allow his men to plunder and ill-treat his majesty’s subjects.

While this dispute was going on, father Olmedo, with Alvarado and the other officers, arrived in Santisteban; and as Gonzalo de Ocampo was at that time alcalde major of Mexico, it was his duty to give Garay notice to quit that territory, of which the government had been conferred upon Cortes by his majesty. Several days were spent in these negotiations, which were carried on by word of mouth, between the two parties, by father Olmedo, and Garay began to discover that numbers of his men deserted to Vallejo, that Cortes’ officers were accompanied by a considerable body of horse and musketeers, and that they daily increased in numbers. Two of his vessels had been lost in a heavy storm, and the rest lay at anchor in the mouth of the harbour, and were summoned by Vallejo to run in, otherwise he should be obliged to treat them as corsairs; to which the captains replied, that it was no business of his where they anchored their vessels, and he might keep his commands to himself.

Garay, who greatly feared the good fortune which always attended Cortes’ arms, durst not take any decisive step; while, on the other hand, Ocampo of Mexico, Alvarado, and Sandoval were carrying on their secret negotiations with his troops, but particularly with the captains of the vessels, with some of whom they came to a secret understanding that they should run into the harbour and declare for Cortes. The first two captains who ran in with their vessels were Martin Lepuzcuano and Castromucho, and they surrendered to Vallejo, who then immediately repaired to the mouth of the harbour with the two vessels, and commanded Juan de Grijalva either to run into the harbour or to quit his present station without delay and put to sea again. This message Grijalva answered by firing a broadside at him; but Vallejo was not to be daunted by this, and repaired on board Grijalva’s vessel in one of his own boats, accompanied by a royal secretary, and handed over to him letters from Alvarado and father Olmedo, who made large promises to him in the name of Cortes. While Grijalva was perusing these letters, the rest of the vessels ran one after the other into the harbour, so that no other resource was left him than to follow their example, and to yield up his sword to Vallejo, who had demanded it of him in the name of Cortes, though he, with all the other captains, were immediately set at liberty again, according to the advice of father Olmedo, who always said it was most pleasing to God and to our emperor when disputes were settled without spilling any blood.

When Garay found what a miserable state his affairs were in, that a portion of his men had deserted, and that the rest had rebelled against him; how two of his vessels had foundered at sea, and the rest had declared for Cortes, his despondency was at its height. He earnestly requested Cortes’ officers to deliver up to him again his troops and his vessels, and declared that he would return to the river Palmas, and thus put an end to all further disputes. These officers, in reply, wished him every success in this undertaking, and said they would order all his men who were strolling about the country to repair to his standard again, and reembark with their general; they promised also to furnish him with a good supply of provisions and other matters. Garay was highly delighted with this offer, and the strictest orders were accordingly issued to seize all the men who had rebelled, and to take them into the presence of Garay: but all threats proved fruitless, and the few of Garay’s soldiers who were recaptured maintained that their agreement was to serve in the province of Panuco, and that their oath did not bind them to follow their general’s standard anywhere else. They even used stronger language than this; and declared, without any reserve, that Garay did not possess the requisite talents for a commander, and that he was altogether no soldier.

When Garay found that, notwithstanding all his remonstrances and threats, he could not alter the minds of his men, he completely despaired. Our officers then advised him to write to Cortes, and they promised to use all their influence with the latter, and induce him to assist Garay in his expedition to the river Palmas; indeed, father Olmedo and Alvarado pledged their words to obtain this for him. Garay accordingly wrote a letter to our general, in which he gave him an account of his voyage, and of the fatigues he had undergone, then begged his permission to visit him in Mexico, in order that they might come to some understanding with each other, and consider what steps they could take to promote his majesty’s best interests in this matter. Father Olmedo and our officers also wrote to Cortes, and strongly recommended Garay’s cause to him, adding, that he was a gentleman with whom he had formerly lived on the most intimate terms of friendship.

When Cortes read Garay’s letter, he could not help feeling excessively grieved at his misfortunes, and sent him a most polite answer in return, expressing his deep concern at the unfortunate position of his affairs, and invited him to repair in person to Mexico, where he would feel happy to aid him with his counsel, and otherwise to lend him every assistance in his power to prosecute his further designs. Cortes then despatched orders for the inhabitants of the towns through which Garay would have to pass, to give him an hospitable reception, and even sent various kinds of refreshments for him to the different stages along his route. In Tezcuco a banquet was prepared in his honour, and when he had approached to within a short distance of Mexico, Cortes went out to meet him, accompanied by several officers.

Garay was not a little astonished when he beheld the many large towns, and at length the city of Mexico itself. Cortes gave him his own new palace to live in, and immediately began to converse with him about the posture of his affairs, and to deliberate what further steps it would be most advisable for him to adopt. Alvarado, Sandoval and father Olmedo used their utmost influence with Cortes to further Garay’s views; and the latter had scarcely been four days in Mexico when father Olmedo, in order to substantiate the good understanding which had arisen between him and Cortes, brought about the preliminaries of a marriage between a natural daughter of the latter, who was still very young, and the son of Garay.

It was at length settled that Garay should continue commander-in-chief of his fleet, and that he should colonize the country on the river Palmas, for which purpose Cortes was to furnish him with everything that was necessary, and even with officers and men. It was also agreed that Cortes should give a very large sum of money as a marriage portion to his daughter.

By these bright prospects and the friendly disposition which Cortes evinced towards him, Garay’s spirits were again raised, and I am sure that everything would have been fulfilled as agreed upon between them, if Providence had not disposed otherwise.

Garay soon after inhabited the house of Alonso Villanueva, as Cortes was making great alterations in his palaces. This Villanueva had upon one occasion been despatched by Cortes to purchase horses in Jamaica, but really I am unable to say whether previous or subsequent to this time; at all events, Garay and he were very intimate friends, wherefore he had requested permission of Cortes to inhabit the latter’s house.

Narvaez was still in Mexico at this time, and renewed his former friendship with Garay. As may naturally be supposed, each related to the other his misfortunes, and as Narvaez was a man of a haughty disposition, he said smilingly to Garay on one occasion: “What very fine things, Señor Adelantado, have been told me by several of the men who have deserted your troops! They assert, that on every occasion when you wished to encourage your officers you used to say: ‘We must show ourselves brave men and fight valiantly about with Cortes’ soldiers, and not allow ourselves to be cozened as Narvaez was.’ But what say you now, Señor? I lost one of my eyes in the battle I fought with Cortes; lost my army and all my property in the courageous defence which I offered, and indeed it was no joke to defeat me. No one in the world can have greater luck than this man; but it must be remembered that he has officers and soldiers who lend him the most vigorous assistance in all his undertakings, which alone has rendered it possible for him to have the good fortune of an Octavius, the victorious career of a Julius Cæsar, and the endurance of a Hannibal in battle.”

To which Garay replied, “That it was unnecessary for him to mention all this, for the deeds spoke for themselves;” and indeed, added he, “where will you find another man who would dare, after destroying his fleet, to penetrate with a handful of men in the midst of a country so thickly populated, in order to wage war against powerful states and large cities?”

Narvaez then mentioned other heroic deeds of our general, and in this way they discoursed for a length of time with each other about the wonderful conquest of New Spain! Garay, soon after, even begged Cortes to grant Narvaez and his wife permission to return to the island of Cuba. This lady, whose name was Maria Valenzuela, possessed great wealth, and she had formerly known Cortes at Cuba, and was even related to him. She had herself also petitioned Cortes to liberate her husband. Our general now not only granted this request, but also gave Narvaez 2000 pesos to defray the expenses of his voyage. Narvaez could scarcely find words to thank Cortes sufficiently for so much kindness, and promised him, by everything that was holy, never under any circumstance whatever to go against his interests.

But to return to Garay, whose unfortunate expedition terminated in the following manner. On Christmas eve of the year 1523 he accompanied Cortes to church in order to attend midnight mass, performed by father Olmedo; after church they both returned home in high spirits and sat down to breakfast, when it appears that Garay, who was not in very good health, caught cold by standing in a draught, which ended in pleurisy, accompanied by a violent fever. The medical men bled and purged him, but the disease continually grew worse, so that father Olmedo was desired to inform him of the danger he was in, that he might confess, while he was yet able, and make his last will. Father Olmedo accordingly disclosed to him that his end was drawing nigh, and he ought to think of preparing for death as a good Christian and an honest cavalier, that he might not lose his soul in the next world, as he had his riches in this. “Your advice is good, father,” answered Garay; “I wish to confess this very night, to receive the holy sacrament, and to make my last will.” All this he fulfilled with great devotion, appointed Cortes with father Olmedo his executors, and four days after rendered up his soul again to his God and his Creator.

It is peculiar to the climate of Mexico that those who are attacked by pleurisy, generally die within three or four days; this we experienced to our great sorrow in Tezcuco and Cojohuacan, where we lost numbers of our men from this disease. For the rest, every honour was paid to the last remains of Garay; and Cortes, with several officers, put on mourning. May his soul rest in peace. Amen! It is, however, to be regretted that he died far away from his wife and family in the house of a stranger. After his departure from Mexico pretty work was going on with his troops in Panuco; for as the officers and soldiers had no commander-in-chief, any one who got it into his head raised himself to captain or general, and in this way there stood successively at the head of the troops, Juan Grijalva, Gonzalo de Figueroa, Alonso de Mendoza, Lorenzo de Ulloa, Juan Medina, Juan de Villa, Antonio de la Cada, and a certain Taborda, who was the most rebellious of all. Garay’s son, to whom Cortes’ daughter was betrothed, nominally indeed, had the chief command, but the men troubled themselves very little about him; and they dispersed themselves in small bodies of fifteen and twenty-five about the country, plundered the townships, forcibly carried away the women, and in every respect conducted themselves as if they were plundering among the Moors. At last the inhabitants were resolved to suffer this no longer, and they united in a body with the determination to destroy these cruel invaders, and in the space of a few days they killed upwards of 500 Spaniards, all of Garay’s troops, the most of whom were sacrificed to their gods and their flesh was devoured. In one township alone, above one hundred were slaughtered in this way. Cortes’ troops in Santisteban were no longer able to quell these disturbances, nor did the Indians any way fear them; for when the garrison had upon one occasion marched out against them, they defended themselves so valiantly that our troops were obliged to retreat back to the town, to which the Indians had even the temerity to lay siege, and made repeated attacks upon it both day and night, and they would certainly have taken it if there had not been seven or eight of the veteran conquistadores among the garrison, who, with Vallejo, continually spurred on the rest of the men, and took every military precaution to prevent so terrible a disaster. These determined men also lent every assistance they could to the rest of Garay’s troops, but at the same time showed the necessity of their continuing to encamp outside the town, so as to prevent the enemy from making a combined attack upon the latter. Three separate engagements were fought between the Indians and the troops of Vallejo, joined to those of Garay, and though the former was killed himself and many Spaniards wounded, yet the Indians were each time defeated with considerable loss. The inhabitants had altogether become so furious and exasperated, that on one occasion during night-time they burnt alive in one of their towns forty Spaniards and fifteen horses.

When Cortes received intelligence of this terrible state of things he felt excessively annoyed, and was upon the point of marching himself to Panuco at the head of his troops to quell these disturbances, but he was still suffering from the consequences of a broken arm, so that he was compelled to leave this to Sandoval, whom he instantly despatched thither with one hundred foot, fifty horse, fifteen crossbow-men and musketeers, two cannon, and a body of 10,000 Tlascallan and Mexican auxiliaries. Sandoval’s instructions were to punish the inhabitants in such a manner as to discourage them from ever after breaking out into rebellion. As Sandoval was a man who could not rest night or day whenever he had any important business on hand, he never stayed a moment longer in any place than was absolutely necessary. Having received intelligence that the enemy had stationed the whole of their troops in two narrow passes, he divided his men into two bodies, of which one was to attack the first and the other the second pass. The crossbow-men and musketeers were instructed to keep up a constant fire upon the enemy, who, however, bid a stout resistance in their turn, and wounded several of the Spanish and auxiliary troops. When Sandoval found that all his attempts to force the first pass were fruitless, and having no better fortune on the following day, he sent orders for the other body, which had been equally unsuccessful at the second pass, to turn back upon the road leading to Mexico, he himself drawing off his men in the same direction. The enemy, who imagined he retreated from fear, likewise quitted their position, and followed Sandoval with terrific yells. The latter now encamped in a secure spot, where he remained quiet for three days; and one midnight, when he thought the enemy less upon their guard, he suddenly broke up his camp, and, with the cavalry in advance, forced his way through the narrow passes, with the whole of his troops; but even then it was with great difficulty he succeeded, and three of his horses were killed, besides numbers of the troops wounded: however, as soon as he had the advantage ground, he fell with great impetuosity upon the enemy, who had received considerable reinforcements during the night. So vastly had their numbers increased, that he began to entertain serious doubts as to the issue of the battle; he therefore firmly closed his ranks, and so continued to combat with the enemy, who rushed upon the points of the swords with the savage ferocity of so many tigers, and they even succeeded to wrest the lances from six of the less experienced cavalry soldiers. Sandoval was terribly enraged at this latter circumstance, and swore he would rather go to battle with a few men who knew how to fight, than with a great number who did not: and he then instructed the cavalry how to aim at the enemy’s face; and if the Indians grasped the lances, to hold them firmly with the hand placed under the arm, give spurs to the horses, and, by a sudden jerk, wrest the lance from the enemy’s grasp, or drag him along with it.

After this battle, in which neither party had gained any advantage over the other, Sandoval encamped for the night near a small river. Here he carefully posted his watches, and, having been taught experience in our battles with the Mexicans, he ordered his auxiliary troops to encamp at a good distance from the Spanish, to avoid all confusion if the enemy commenced the attack in the dark. Sandoval had indeed every reason to suppose that the Indians would fall upon him in the night, for they had taken up a position so very near to his camp that their war-whoop and military music were quite audible; but they made so sure of victory, they said, (as Sandoval learnt from his auxiliaries,) that they would rather wait till morning, and then put him, with all his men, to the sword.

As soon as daylight broke forth, Sandoval marched out, with the whole of his troops in close order, towards some houses whence the enemy’s war-music resounded. He had scarcely proceeded a mile when he came up with three large bodies of the enemy, who immediately began to hem him in on all sides. Sandoval, observing this, placed half of his cavalry in each wing, and attacked the enemy with such determination that he completely routed them, and slew great numbers. Two Spaniards, who had but recently come to New Spain, were killed in this battle, besides three horses. The Mexicans and Tlascallans then spread themselves through the different townships, killed several more of the enemy, set fire to every place, and brought in great numbers of prisoners.

The road to Santisteban was now open, and when Sandoval arrived there he found the garrison in a most deplorable condition: greater part of the troops were either sick or wounded, but what was worse, they had neither food for themselves nor their horses.

The reader may easily imagine how welcome Sandoval’s arrival was, and he soon learnt how Garay’s troops had behaved, and how the garrison would probably have been cut to pieces if it had not been for the assistance of seven or eight veteran Conquistadores, who each day marched to the field of battle, kept Garay’s troops outside the city, and so occupied the enemy’s attention in another quarter that they did not even allow them time to think of storming the town. Sandoval then embraced these brave men, and gave to each of the Conquistadores, who were all his old companions in arms, a separate command, and desired them to divide all the foot and cavalry into two bodies, and so sally out of the town, forage the country round, damage the enemy’s property as much as possible, and bring in as many prisoners as they could take, particularly of the chiefs. He himself, to his great sorrow, was obliged to remain behind, as he was severely wounded in the leg, and had been struck in the face by a stone.

The two detachments obeyed his commands in every respect; they soon brought in a quantity of maise and other provisions, with several women, a number of poor people, and five chiefs who had fought in the recent battles. Sandoval ordered all these prisoners to be released, with the exception of the five last mentioned, and ordered his troops not to bring in any other prisoners excepting those who had had a hand in the murder of the Spaniards. The rest of the inhabitants they were to encourage to approach the town peaceably, and to live on terms of friendship with the Spaniards.

Several officers of distinction belonging to Garay’s troops, who had done their worst to create the insurrection in this province, had remained behind in the town on this last occasion. These gentlemen, whose names I have mentioned above, considered themselves grossly insulted when they found that Sandoval had not intrusted them with any command, but had selected the veteran Conquistadores. They therefore began to murmur and to inveigh bitterly against the dispositions which Sandoval had made, and even spoke to Garay’s son of making common cause with the inhabitants, and of revolutionizing the province. After Sandoval had regarded their intrigues in silence for some time, he at length addressed these discontented personages to the following effect: “Instead, gentlemen, of being thankful to me for having marched into this province to your assistance, and for rescuing you from the imminent danger in which you lived, you have, I hear, thrown out language against me which little becomes cavaliers of your stamp. It is no dishonour to you that I put those in command who have proved themselves able officers. I should, indeed, have been a fool had I not done so; and if you had shown yourselves equally deserving, I should not have forgotten you: but I should like to know whether you showed any fitness to command when you allowed yourselves to be hemmed in on all sides by the Indians. You yourselves have unanimously declared that you would have been on the brink of destruction had it not been for the eight veteran Conquistadores; it is for this reason, and because they are acquainted with the country, that I intrusted them with the command. These jealousies never entered our mind when we were besieging Mexico; our only thoughts were how we should best be able to promote his majesty’s interests. Follow, therefore, our example for the future. I do not intend staying much longer here, for I must soon return to Mexico, if, at least, these Indians do not kill me; but he whom I shall leave behind as Cortes’ commandant of this town will not allow you much leisure time; therefore, moderate your anger, and learn to judge better of me in future!” Here Sandoval ended, but all he said produced very little effect.

The following day Sandoval marched out with the whole of his troops, and made so excellent a disposition of his men, that he captured above twenty caziques who had all been concerned in the massacre of Garay’s troops and of several other Spaniards belonging to the colony. He then invited all the townships to send him messengers of peace, which they accordingly did, with the exception of a few. After this, he forwarded an account to Cortes of every circumstance, and requested to know what course he was to adopt with the prisoners, and whom he should appoint commandant of Santisteban in the room of Vallejo; nor did he omit to mention the courage and skill which the eight veterans above mentioned had throughout displayed.

Cortes received this letter just at the moment when he was surrounded by a great number of the old Conquistadores, and by several Spaniards who had recently arrived from Spain. He was highly delighted to find that Sandoval had so speedily quelled the disturbances, and exclaimed aloud, in the presence of all, “O! Sandoval, how much am I not indebted to you, and what vast fatigues do you not undergo for me?” Every person present joined in the praise of Sandoval, declaring unanimously that he was a most excellent officer, and might be compared with the most renowned captains of any age.

Cortes, in answer to Sandoval’s letter, told him that those of the Indians who had been guilty of the murder of so many Spaniards, and had wantonly killed so great a number of horses, were to be tried and punished according to law; for which purpose he would despatch to him the alcalde major Diego de Ocampo, who would investigate the matter in due form. The remaining part of the population he was to treat with every possible kindness, and strictly to forbid the troops of Garay or any other Spaniards to plunder or in anywise to ill-use the inhabitants.

Sandoval was vastly pleased when Ocampo arrived, who, without delay, brought the Indian caziques and chiefs to trial; and, as they themselves confessed they had had a hand in the murder of the Spaniards above mentioned, they were found guilty, and some were sentenced to be hung, some to be burnt alive, and others were liberated altogether. The sons and brothers of those who had been sentenced to death were appointed to the vacant caziquedoms, according to their respective rightful claims.

Here Ocampo’s business did not end, for he was likewise empowered by Cortes to institute inquiries against those of Garay’s troops who had strolled about the country like so many banditti, and thereby caused the insurrection among the Indian population. The whole of these fellows Ocampo put on board one of the vessels, and sent them to the island of Cuba. Grijalva he left the choice, by command of Cortes, either to accept of 2000 pesos, which would instantly be paid down to him, and sail with the others to Cuba, or to repair to Mexico and enter the service of Cortes, by which he would benefit himself and be raised to high honours; but he, with the whole of them, chose rather to return to Cuba, where the greater part had Indian commendaries. This vessel was therefore well victualled, and sailed under the command of a certain Vallecillo for the last-mentioned island.

Ocampo and Sandoval, upon this, returned to Mexico, where they were splendidly received by Cortes and the whole town; and the joy at Sandoval’s triumphant return was the greater, as every one had entertained doubts as to the probable issue of this campaign. Father Olmedo even proposed a day of thanksgiving, which was accordingly celebrated in the church of our dear Lady. For the rest, this province ever after remained very tranquil and obedient.

## CHAPTER CLXIII. {.chapter}
*How licentiate Zuazo set sail for New Spain in a small vessel, accompanied by two monks of the order of Charity; and their remarkable adventures on this voyage.*

I mentioned in a previous chapter that licentiate Zuazo promised Garay, during the few days he stayed at Cuba, that he would personally travel to Mexico and try to settle the disputes between him and Cortes. Zuazo first wished to render an account of his administration of justice in Cuba to the royal court of audience at St. Domingo; after that, he truly set sail for New Spain. He took with him two monks of the order of Charity: Juan Varillas and Gonzalo Pondevedra. Juan, a native of Salamanca, was a close friend of father Olmedo. He had requested and received permission from his superiors to visit Olmedo, and had been staying with father Gonzalo in Cuba, waiting for a good chance to cross to New Spain. Being related to Zuazo, Juan asked him to let both himself and father Gonzalo accompany him; Zuazo agreed, and so they all embarked in a small vessel together. They had barely passed the cape of Sant Anton (also called the land of Gamatabeis, a wild tribe of Indians whom the Spaniards had not yet subdued), when—either due to the pilot's ignorance or to strong currents—they were driven off course and wrecked near the Viboras isles, which lie between the shallows near what is called the Alacranes sands. Large vessels that run aground here are inevitably lost; but the small size of Zuazo's vessel enabled their survival. Still, to lighten the load they had to throw most of their cargo overboard, which, as it mainly consisted of smoked meat, soon attracted numerous sharks. One of the sailors, who had ventured into shallow water with some others, was seized and devoured by a shark; the rest likely would have shared the same fate if they hadn't rushed back aboard immediately. With much difficulty and great risk, the crew managed to get to the island; but having thrown out all their provisions and water-casks, they first had nothing to eat or drink. Eventually, they managed to fish up some pieces of their smoked meat from the sea. They would have even been without fire, if not for two Cuba Indians, who, by rubbing two dry sticks together, soon kindled a flame. After a search, they also luckily found fresh water; and since the island was small and sandy, many turtles came to lay their eggs there. Each turtle would lay about a hundred eggs, and the two Cuba Indians could easily capture them by turning them on their backs, making them helpless. With these eggs, turtle meat, and the flesh of seals that came on land by night, thirteen people managed to sustain themselves for many days.

Among the crew were two carpenters from Ribera, who had fortunately saved their tools; so it was decided that they should build a boat from the vessel's timber. When the boat was finished and fully rigged, it was loaded with some turtles and smoked seal meat, some water, a sea-chart, and a compass. Three Spanish sailors and one Cuban Indian then bravely set out in the small boat, hoping to reach some harbor in New Spain and send a ship to rescue those stranded on the island. After facing various kinds of weather, they finally arrived safely at the River Bandera, where goods from Spain were then unloaded. The three Spaniards went straight to Medellin, where Simon de Cuenca, Cortes' commandant, was in charge. They told him about their shipwreck off the Viboras isles. Cuenca, hearing this, fitted out a small vessel and sent it with a letter to Zuazo, in which he said how pleased Cortes would be to hear of Zuazo’s arrival in New Spain. Cortes, to whom Cuenca had sent news of the situation, highly praised Cuenca's actions and instructed him, as soon as Zuazo and his companions arrived, to provide them with every necessity, including horses for their journey to Mexico.

This vessel had especially favorable weather and soon reached the island. One can easily imagine the joy of Zuazo and his companions; but in the meantime, much to their sorrow, they had lost their friend father Gonzalo, who gradually succumbed to hardships unfamiliar to him. They commended his soul to God, boarded the rescuing vessel, and soon reached the coast of New Spain. From there, they traveled to Medellin, where they were warmly received, and then on to Mexico, where Cortes gave them one of his own palaces to stay in and soon afterwards appointed Zuazo as his alcalde major.

What I have shared here about Zuazo’s voyage to New Spain I have copied word for word from a letter Cortes wrote to us, the town council of Guacasualco, which exactly matches the accounts of the sailors themselves. The reader may, therefore, trust that this is a true narrative.

## CHAPTER CLXIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes sent Alvarado to conquer the province of Guatimala and to found a colony there.*

Cortes sought to rival Alexander the Great in all things; his mind was always occupied with some grand scheme, and his thirst for power had no limits. After, with the help of his excellent officers and brave soldiers, he had rebuilt and repopulated the great city of Mexico and founded the towns of Guaxaca, Zacatula, Colima, Vera Cruz, Panuco, and Guacasualco, he determined to subdue the populous and warlike province of Guatimala. Cortes was aware of gold mines in the region and had tried several times to persuade the inhabitants to submit, but received no reply. He therefore chose to send Alvarado to conquer the region and establish colonies there. For this important campaign, he selected over 300 infantry, including 120 musketeers and crossbowmen, 153 horsemen, and four field pieces, with ample powder. Usagre was the chief artilleryman, and more than 300 auxiliary troops—Tlascallans, Cholulans, and Mexicans—joined the expedition. Father Olmedo, a close friend of Alvarado's, also asked Cortes to join the campaign to preach the gospel to the locals; but our general, who preferred to keep father Olmedo at his side, declined and appointed another excellent priest for the expedition—one who had come to New Spain with Garay and was glad to accept the missionary post. Olmedo, however, gave Cortes no rest until he finally agreed to let him go, though he granted it reluctantly, since Olmedo was one of his most valued advisers.

Alvarado’s orders were, above all, to win over the inhabitants by kindness and friendship. Father Olmedo was supplied with interpreters so he could do his utmost to persuade the people to abandon their human sacrifices and other abominations and to join the Christian church. Once the troops were ready, Alvarado bade farewell to Cortes and set out from Mexico on December 13, 1523. His route crossed mountains in the province of Guantepec, where he put down an uprising among the locals. He marched on to Tecuantepec, a large city inhabited by the Tzapotec people, where he was warmly received and given some gold. He then entered the province of Soconusco, which he also found at peace. This populous province then had about 15,000 inhabitants, who all quietly submitted and brought Alvarado a gold gift. As soon as he left the province, however, a warlike mood prevailed. On his next day’s march, near the Zapotitlan towns, he came to a bridge crossing a small river, beside a narrow pass, where enemy forces gathered in battle order to bar his crossing. Here Alvarado fought a fierce engagement, losing a horse and sustaining many wounded men, one of whom died soon after. Not just the Zapotitlan warriors, but vast numbers of people from the nearby area joined the battle. Though the Spaniards repeatedly broke their ranks, they had to attack three times over, and only after much hard fighting did they finally gain complete victory and the enemy submitted as vassals of the emperor. The next place, Quetzaltenanco, was heavily populated and put up a strong fight; many Spaniards were wounded. The locals were supported by neighbors from Utatlan, chief of a chain of towns near Quetzaltenanco; nevertheless, Alvarado routed them, leaving the field covered with dead and wounded.

From there, the route crossed a perilous, narrow six-mile mountain pass. The troops moved forward in battle order, ascending the steep climb. At the highest point, they found a fat old Indian woman and a dog—both sacrificed to the gods—a sure sign of war. This was soon confirmed. Not far ahead, they were ambushed by a huge enemy force lying in wait, risking the Spaniards being encircled on all sides. The pass was so narrow and the ground so strewn with stones that the cavalry could barely help, but the crossbowmen, musketeers, and swordsmen closed in, fighting with extra bravery, as the enemy retreated down the pass to deep hollows, where more warriors were in position. The defenders then continued to fall back as Alvarado advanced, to another position where over 6,000 warriors of Utatlan and their subjects, confident of an easy victory, had gathered. But the Spaniards fought so fiercely that they put the enemy to flight, suffering only three men and two horses wounded. Once again, the enemy regrouped, reinforced by large numbers, and attacked with great bravery. The fiercest fighting happened near a fountain, where a strong party sprang from ambush; the Spaniards were forced into hand-to-hand combat. The cavalry were targeted individually, each horse attacked by three enemies while others tried to drag them down by hanging onto their tails. The Spaniards were in great peril due to the enemy’s overwhelming numbers, but father Olmedo encouraged the men, reminding them they were fighting in the service of God and for the cause of His holy religion; that the Lord would help them, and that they must conquer or perish here!

Despite these words and the Spaniards’ efforts, the battle’s outcome remained uncertain for a long time, but finally, the enemy began to give way. The cavalry could now reach open ground and broke the Indian forces everywhere, causing them to disappear for three days. During this time, Alvarado’s army camped on the battlefield and sent out small parties to forage. He then marched on the town of Quetzaltenanco, learning there that two Utatlan chiefs had been killed in the fights. Here his men rested and treated their wounds, but soon they heard that nearby tribes were again organizing for a new attack and had raised an army of two Xiquipiles (8,000 warriors to a Xiquipil, totaling 16,000 men). This formidable group was determined to win or die. Hearing this, Alvarado arrayed his troops in an open plain for battle. The enemy soon attacked with force, trying to surround them, but the Spanish cavalry, unimpeded on the open plain, charged hard into enemy lines and routed them. Several Spaniards were wounded, but notable chiefs fell among the defenders; from then on, the Indians truly feared the Spaniards, and the entire province decided to sue for peace, sending ambassadors with a small gift of gold. However, this was mere deception, meant to lure the Spaniards, under pretense of peace, to the heavily fortified town of Utatlan—surrounded by deep ravines—where they could be ambushed and killed.

As I just said, several distinguished chiefs visited Alvarado’s camp to sue for peace. They delivered their meager gift, were unusually polite, and begged Alvarado to forgive their recent hostility and accept them as vassals of the emperor. They also invited him and his troops to Utatlan, saying it was a large town where he would enjoy excellent lodgings and comforts.

Alvarado, not suspecting any trick, received the chiefs warmly, granted peace, and accepted their invitation. The next morning, he mustered all his troops and marched to Utatlan, but as soon as they entered, the town’s warlike atmosphere became obvious. Only two gates gave access: one reached by twenty-five steps, the other by a causeway, interrupted in several spots. There was a large, strongly fortified building, and the houses were tightly packed with very narrow streets. No women or children were visible, as they had all been hidden in the ravines nearby; and it was late before the troops could obtain food, which was poor. The chiefs’ tone had shifted entirely from the day before. Alvarado was secretly warned by some Quetzaltenanco locals that the Utatlan leaders planned to attack at night, intending to burn the town and ambush the Spaniards in the chaos, while warriors in the ravines were ready to swoop in just as the smoke rose and slaughter the suffocating Spaniards as the townsfolk attacked from another side.

As soon as Alvarado learned of this grave danger, he gathered his officers and men and told them what he'd discovered, adding that their only hope lay in leaving the town quickly for a clear area between the ravines, since it was too late to reach open ground that day. He gave the necessary orders for withdrawal and called the main leaders of the town to him, pretending to be unaware of any treachery; during conversation, he casually mentioned that his horses needed to graze each day and that the crowded town and narrow streets were unsuitable—so he would have to take them out again. The chiefs were greatly shocked and couldn't hide their disappointment as they saw the Spaniards march out.

Once outside, Alvarado dropped the pretense. He ordered the chief captured and put on trial before a court-martial, which sentenced him to death by fire. Before carrying out the sentence, father Olmedo asked Alvarado to let him try to convert the chief to Christianity, requesting his execution be postponed for a day; this day turned into two, and at last it pleased the Lord Jesus to turn the chief’s heart so that he was baptized by father Olmedo, who then persuaded Alvarado to alter the sentence to hanging. The chief's son was then made ruler in his place. But the troubles didn't end there, for now Alvarado was attacked by Indians hidden in the ravines, whom he soon drove off.

Another large town in the province, Guatimala, had already heard about Alvarado’s victories since his arrival and his repeated conquests of surrounding towns. As Guatimala was hostile to Utatlan, its leaders sent ambassadors offering gold, declaring their loyalty to the emperor, and volunteering to help the Spaniards in their campaign. Alvarado received them graciously and told them that, to prove their sincerity, he would require 2,000 of their warriors to join his forces since he was unfamiliar with the country, with its blocked paths and rugged terrain, and would need help clearing the way and transporting supplies. The Guatimala people soon proved their good will by sending the requested troops with their leaders. Alvarado stayed about eight days in Utatlan, making forays into other towns; as several rebelled again after first submitting, many men and women were taken as slaves and branded with a red-hot iron. A fifth of them were set aside for the king, and the rest immediately distributed among the troops.

Alvarado next marched to Guatimala, where the people welcomed him hospitably. Here the men rested and congratulated one another on their successes. Alvarado told father Olmedo and his officers that he had never felt in greater danger than at the recent battle against the Utatlan tribes, who fought with both ferocity and bravery, and he thought his men performed marvels. “It was the arm of God,” answered father Olmedo, “that protected us, and so that He may continue to aid us, let us appoint a day of thanksgiving to the Almighty and the Blessed Virgin, and celebrate high mass, with a sermon to the Indians.” Alvarado and the officers gladly agreed, an altar was erected, the soldiers received communion, and high mass was solemnly celebrated. Many Indians attended, and father Olmedo preached with such skill and delivered so many proofs of Christianity’s truth that more than thirty Indians converted to the faith. Over the following days, they were baptized, and others sought baptism, seeing that the Spaniards favored the converts. Overall, there was nothing but joy and good feeling between Alvarado’s troops and the people of Guatimala.

I should mention that the chiefs of Guatimala pointed out to Alvarado some neighboring towns located by a lake. These locals, enemies of Guatimala, were fortified on a great rocky height with additional defenses. The main town, Atatlan, clearly possessed little friendliness for the Spaniards, as they never bothered to send any messengers of peace. Alvarado sent a respectful invitation for an alliance, but his messengers were mistreated. He sent invitations twice more, and when still no ambassadors arrived, he marched there with 140 foot soldiers, 40 horsemen, and 2,000 Guatimala auxiliaries. Near the township, he again sent a friendly message, which was answered with a flight of arrows. He advanced to the water’s edge, and suddenly a great force of Indians attacked under the sound of wild music, all in full war costume with exceptionally long lances. A severe fight broke out and many Spaniards were wounded; but at last the Indians sped away to their rocky fortress, and Alvarado pressed so closely that he took the rock before they could regroup, killing many. The survivors leaped into the lake and swam to a small island. He then allowed his men to loot the houses along the shore and camped on a plain filled with maize fields. The next day, he marched to Atatlan, finding it deserted. He sent out foraging parties to raid the region, especially its many cacao plantations. One such party captured two local chiefs, whom Alvarado sent along with other prisoners with a demand for peace and submission: if the towns made peace, he’d free all prisoners and treat them with honor; if not, he would punish them like the towns of Quetzaltenanco and Utatlan, cutting down all their cacao trees and destroying their property. These warnings achieved their effect: peace envoys came with gold, and the towns became vassals to the emperor. Alvarado returned to Guatimala.

Meanwhile, father Olmedo was doing his best to convert the Indians. He had an altar and cross erected and regularly celebrated mass, with the locals imitating Spanish religious customs. Father Olmedo also placed on the altar a beautiful image of the Virgin Mary, which Garay had given him before dying; the Indians were enchanted by it, and Olmedo explained its meaning and how Christians prayed before it.

Several uneventful days passed, during which every township nearby eventually sent ambassadors declaring loyalty to the emperor—even the Pipiles, a people living along the southern coast. Most ambassadors complained that the inhabitants of Izcuintepec, a troublesome people, would not let them cross their territory and raided their neighbors. Alvarado, determined to bring Izcuintepec into subjection, sent a message, but got an insolent reply. He marched out with most of his troops and auxiliaries and attacked the town by surprise. It would have been better if Alvarado had never visited this unlucky place, as he treated the inhabitants in a way neither just nor in line with the emperor’s wishes.

What I've recounted about the Guatimala campaign can be found described in greater detail in a memoir by Gonzalo de Alvarado, Pedro’s brother and a resident there. By reading it, you may learn more and correct any errors on my part. I must mention this because I was not present during that campaign; I did not arrive in Guatimala until 1524, when the people revolted again, just as we were headed back to Mexico from our expedition to Higueras and Honduras under captain Luis Marin. On that campaign, we fought battles with the enemy, who had dug pits and fortified narrow passes along the road. We were stuck two days at Juanagazapa, or Petapa, fighting more battles as the locals tried to block our way through another dangerous mountain pass. I was slightly wounded by an arrow there, and breaking through took fierce effort. I could say much about that day, but will better describe it in its proper place. Around that time, too, rumors spread of Cortes’ death. As for the people of Guatimala, I found them not very warlike and never saw strong resistance except when they held hollows in the hills; even then, their arrows rarely did us much harm.

## CHAPTER CLXV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes sends an armament, under Christobal de Oli, to the Higueras and Honduras to conquer these provinces, and what else occurred during this expedition.*

Cortes had heard that the provinces of Higueras and Honduras were exceedingly rich and had gold and silver mines. He believed this even more due to claims from various sailors who said that they'd seen Indians in the area using pieces of gold in place of lead to sink their fishing nets. These sailors also believed that there must be, at that latitude, a narrow arm of the sea running to the southern ocean—another reason why Cortes was eager to explore these parts, especially since he had received orders from the king to do his utmost to find such a passage to the southern sea, to improve trade with the spice islands by a shorter route. Therefore, Cortes decided to fit out an expedition for this purpose, putting Christobal de Oli, his quartermaster-general, in command. He had several reasons for trusting Oli with this mission: first, Oli owed Cortes his entire rise; second, he was a married man; and third, he owned property near Mexico. Cortes considered him completely trustworthy and loyal. Crossing to these provinces by land would be too long, costly, and difficult, so Cortes chose a sea expedition and outfitted five ships and a brigantine, carrying three hundred seventy men—including one hundred musketeers and crossbowmen, and twenty-two horsemen. Among this corps were five veteran Conquistadores—proven men who had distinguished themselves on every occasion. They had settled in New Spain and deserved a restful life; but Cortes was not one to be told, “I am tired, general, let me now retire in peace”—if he ordered you to go, you went, or he compelled you. Also joining Oli’s expedition was Briones of Salamanca, who had led a brigantine in the siege of Mexico and served in Italy. He was hot-tempered and hated Cortes bitterly; nor was he alone—others in the company also disliked Cortes, who had made many enemies for himself by failing to distribute the Indians and the gold fairly.

Oli’s instructions were to depart from Vera Cruz, sail to the Havana, where Alonso de Conteras—one of Cortes’ veterans—was waiting with 6,000 pesos to buy horses, cassava bread, and salted meat for the fleet; Oli was to collect these supplies and then sail directly to the Higueras, where his voyage would be easy. Cortes also instructed him to try to win over the Indians by kindness and to found a town at a suitable harbor, from which he could gradually subdue the whole area and encourage the locals to bring in their gold and silver. Still more important, he was to search for a passage to the southern ocean and, if successful, to explore the harbors on that coast.

Two priests were also assigned to the expedition, one fluent in the Mexican language, who were to preach the gospel to the Indians and, by friendly persuasion and solid arguments, work to abolish human sacrifices and other evil practices. Everywhere troops visited, they were to look for the cages where victims for sacrifice were kept; any such prisoners were to be released and the cages destroyed. Priests were also to set up crosses in each town and hand out images of the Virgin Mary to the people.

After laying all this out, Cortes bid Oli and his men a heartfelt farewell. When Oli arrived in Vera Cruz, all was ready, so he and his company immediately sailed—but I have forgotten the precise date and year. Nevertheless, the passage to the Havana was smooth, and the horses, supplies, and necessities were ready there. Five veteran Conquistadores joined here, having been banished from New Spain by Diego de Ocampo during the Panuco investigation after Garay’s troops had sparked a revolt. These men were the first to whisper ideas of rebellion into Oli’s ear; Briones frequently did so as well. Diego Velasquez, governor of Cuba and mortal enemy of Cortes, strongly urged Oli to reject all further obedience to Cortes. Velasquez even visited Oli on board, and they secretly agreed between them to conquer the Higueras and Honduras in the king’s name. Oli would take on the main effort, while Velasquez provided supplies and money. The king would be informed and asked to give them the governance of all they conquered.

About Christobal de Oli, I should note he was very brave and an excellent cavalry and infantry soldier; but he wasn’t cut out to be a commander-in-chief, better as a subordinate. At this time, he was about forty-six, from either Baëza or Lunares. He was tall, strikingly handsome, with muscular build and broad shoulders, his face always showing a healthy ruddy color, though he had a noticeable scar on his lower lip. His speech was sometimes harsh and blunt, but otherwise he was very personable, with a frankness that won many friends. As long as he remained in Mexico, he was wholly devoted to Cortes, but ambition and bad advice from ill-intentioned men completely blinded him. Also, having served Diego Velasquez as a youth, he could not forget the bread he'd eaten at his house as a boy, even though he owed much more to Cortes.

After reaching this private agreement with the Cuban governor, a number of residents visited Oli, urging him to throw off Cortes’ authority, thus strengthening his resolve to do so. The expedition was now fully equipped, and Oli sailed from the Havana, arriving on May 3 after a very good passage, about sixty miles past Puerto Caballo. He disembarked in a small bay and immediately started building a town—Triunfo de la Cruz—following Cortes' orders to select alcaldes and regidors from among the mentioned veteran Conquistadores. He claimed the land for the king in Cortes’ name and obeyed his instructions in all respects so Cortes’s supporters wouldn't realize his actual intentions until he had a chance to win them to his side. I have also been told that if these provinces lacked gold or silver, he would return to Mexico and explain to Cortes that his supposed agreement with Velasquez was only to acquire troops and supplies at Velasquez’s expense; his real proof would be that he had claimed the land in Cortes’ name.

Let us leave Oli building his new town for now, as Cortes did not learn of his revolt until eight months later. At that point, I will resume this story. For now, I must explain what happened in Guacasualco, and how I, with captain Luis Marin, was sent to conquer the province of Chiapa.

## CHAPTER CLXVI. {.chapter}
*How we who were left behind in Guacasualco were constantly occupied in tranquillising the rebellious provinces; how Luis Marin, by command of Cortes, marches into Chiapa, to subject that province; myself and father Juan de las Varillas being particularly desired by Cortes to join him in this campaign.*

A considerable number of us veteran Conquistadores and persons of quality had settled ourselves in the province of Guacasualco, and the lands which had been divided among us were of very considerable extent, lying dispersed among the provinces of Guacasualco, Citla, Tabasco, Cimatan, and Chontalpa, stretching across the mountains of Cachulazoque and Guilenes as far as Cinacatan; including also Chamula, the town of Chiapa, Papanaustla, and Pinula, in the neighbourhood of Mexico; further, the provinces of Chaltepec, Guazcatepec, Chinanta, and Tepeaca, besides several townships. But in the beginning most of the provinces we had subdued in New Spain each time rebelled when the different proprietors came to demand their tribute, and they were frequently put to death by the inhabitants; which was also the case in Guacasualco, where the whole of the townships had from time to time rebelled against us; so that we were constantly obliged to march in small detachments from one district to another, in order again to bring the inhabitants to obedience.

Among others, the inhabitants of Cimatan likewise revolted, and peremptorily refused to obey our mandates; and our captain Luis Marin, not wishing to send any strong detachment of his troops thither at first, despatched myself, Rodrigo de Enao, Francisco Martin, Francisco Ximenes, with four Indians of Guacasualco, to the rebels, in order to try if we could not induce them by kind remonstrances to return to their duty.

In this province the generality of townships lie between marshes and deep rivers; when, therefore, we had arrived within eight miles of the place of our destination, we despatched a messenger to the inhabitants to inform them of our arrival; but instead of returning any answer, three separate bodies of their warriors, armed with bows and lances, marched out against us, and attacked us so vigorously, that two of our companions were instantly killed. I myself was dangerously wounded by an arrow in the throat, from which the blood flowed so fast that my life was in the utmost danger. Next Francisco Martin was wounded, who stood close to me; and we, in our turn, certainly wounded several of the enemy; but at length we were compelled to seek our safety in flight, and try if we could not take possession of some canoes which lay near at hand, in a river called the Macapa. While my comrades were striving to accomplish this, I was obliged, though heavily wounded, to remain alone behind; and in order not to be killed outright, I summoned what little recollection I had, and hid myself between the bushes. Here I was again enabled to take courage, and I swore to the blessed Virgin that these dogs should not, at least, get me into their power this time! I then collected all my strength, leaped forth from among the bushes, fell vigorously upon the Indians, and I succeeded, by dint of heavy blows and thrusts, to cut my way through them; so that I was enabled, though wounded afresh, to reach the spot where Francisco Martin, with four trustworthy Indians, was waiting with the canoes. Even then we must all of us have undoubtedly been cut to pieces, if these faithful men had not defended our baggage to the last, thereby drawing off the enemy’s attention from us; and while they were busily engaged in plundering our trunks we found time to set the canoes afloat, and to push off from the shore. Thus, through the great mercy of God, we made our escape by means of these canoes, and passed across this deep and broad river, which abounded with alligators; but in order to elude the pursuit of these Cimatecs, we were obliged to conceal ourselves for the space of eight days among the mountains. In the meantime the news of our disaster had reached Guacasualco, and the four Indians, who had also been fortunate enough to save themselves by flight, confidently asserted, as we were so long in returning, that we must have been killed. Luis Marin, who likewise gave us up for lost, had already, as was customary at that time, divided our Indian commendaries among the other Conquistadores, and had written to Cortes for fresh indentures to convey the property; besides that, he had sold off all our moveable goods by public auction. However, after the space of twenty-three days, we again, to the surprise of all, made our reappearance in Guacasualco, where our friends were indeed delighted to see us, but those who had obtained our possessions drew very long faces.

Luis Marin was at length fully convinced that he should never be able to put down the rebellion in the provinces, unless he was allowed a stronger body of troops, for now he was sacrificing the lives of the few men he had to no purpose. He resolved therefore to repair in person to Mexico, and beg Cortes for a further reinforcement, and other necessaries, to carry on a war. He particularly cautioned the Spaniards to remain quiet during his absence, and ordered that they should not move to a greater distance than twenty miles from the town, unless to procure themselves provisions.

When Marin reached Mexico, and had given Cortes an account of the state of affairs in Guacasualco, he only furnished him with twenty soldiers, and desired him to return thither without delay. Among these was Alonso de Grado, whom I have so often mentioned above, and father Juan de las Varillas, who was a profound scholar, and had come to New Spain with Zuazo. According to his own account, he had studied in the college of Santa Cruz, at Salamanca, and he said he was of a very distinguished family.

Marin’s instructions from Cortes were to march with all the Spaniards who had settled in Guacasualco, and the fresh troops he brought with him, into Chiapa, to quell the disturbances, and found a new town in this province. We therefore equipped ourselves in the best possible manner for this campaign, and commenced operations by clearing the road along the line of our route, for the country was full of swamps and dangerous mountains. We had to carry along with us heavy beams, by means of which our horse were to pass the marshes, but even those were insufficient in many places. In this way, with the utmost difficulty, we arrived at Tezpuatlan, which township we could only reach by ferrying across a broad river in canoes, for which purpose we had first to run up the river to a considerable distance. From this place we arrived at Cachula, which lies high among the mountains, in the province of Chiapa, and must not be confounded with a township of the same name, prettily situated in the neighbourhood of la Puebla de los Angeles. Leaving Cachula, we passed through several small townships dependent on it; here we made ourselves a perfectly new road along the river, which flows from Chiapa, for there was previously no road whatever in this place. The inhabitants of the surrounding districts lived in perpetual fear of the Chiapanecs, who at that time were the most warlike people of New Spain. I will not even except the Tlascallans, the Mexicans, the Zapotecs, or the Minges; nor were the monarchs of Mexico ever able to subdue them; besides which, their population was extensive, and their warlike spirit universally dreaded. They were continually at war with their neighbours of Cinacatan, the tribes on the lake Quilenayas, and with the Zoques; in short, they levied contributions on all the surrounding townships, dragged the inhabitants forcibly away to sacrifice them to their gods, and devoured their flesh at their festive orgies. They posted troops in all the narrow passes of Teguantepec, to lay wait for the trading Indian merchants, thereby often destroying all intercourse between the different provinces. They had even carried off into slavery the population of whole districts, and formed settlements of them in the neighbourhood of Chiapa, compelling them to cultivate their plantations.

After we had marched to a considerable distance up this river towards Chiapa, (it was during the lent of the year 1524,) we halted within a short distance of this place. Here Marin reviewed his troops, which he had been unable to do up to this moment, as a number of the inhabitants of the country had been absent, besides many of the soldiers, to collect the tribute of the townships, which lay dispersed among the Cachula mountains. Our muster-roll gave twenty-five horse, but of which five were scarcely fit for service; fifteen crossbow-men, and eight musketeers. We had one field-piece, and one artilleryman, who had served in the campaign of Italy; but that was all, for he was the most determined coward I ever saw. The rest of our Spanish troops consisted of those who were armed with swords and bucklers, amounting to sixty men. Further we were joined by eighty Mexicans and the cazique of Cachula, with several other distinguished personages. But the men of this latter place stood in such dread of the enemy, that we could only employ them in clearing the road as we advanced, and to transport our baggage.

As we approached nearer to the enemy we conducted our march with greater military precaution, and the nimblest of our men were always in front of the troops. I myself formed one of the scouts on this occasion and had left my horse behind, as the nature of the ground here was in every respect unfavorable for the cavalry. We were continually a couple of miles in advance of the main body, and as the inhabitants of Chiapa are very expert huntsmen, we soon came up with some of them, and immediately they kindled fires in various directions to assemble their warriors. In the vicinity of their townships the road was uncommonly narrow, but the country round about was beautifully cultivated with maise and different kinds of leguminous plants. The first township we came to was Estapa, which lay about sixteen miles from the chief town, and was totally deserted by its inhabitants; but we found abundance of provisions, consisting in fowls, maise, and other eatables, so that we had a right good supper. As we had carefully posted our watches, and sent out the patroles and pickets, we could not be taken by surprise, and two of the horse came suddenly galloping up with the intelligence that a large body of the enemy was approaching. However, we were always ready for action, so that we marched out against them before they could enter the town. A very severe conflict ensued, for the enemy were well provided with bows, arrows, lances, pikes of uncommon length, and excellent cotton cuirasses. Besides which they were armed with a species of club, shaped like a scimitar, and as the ground was strewed with stones they did us much injury with their slings, and by an artful manœuvre attempted to surround us, killing two of our men and four horses in the first encounter. Besides which, father Juan and thirteen soldiers, with several of our Indian auxiliaries, were wounded, and Luis Marin himself in two places. The battle lasted until nightfall, when, to our great joy the enemy retreated after we had severely punished them with our swords, muskets, and other weapons. Fifteen of their number lay dead on the field of battle, and several were so dreadfully wounded that they were unable to move. Two of these, who appeared to be men of distinction, assured us that we should be attacked on the following day by the whole armed force of the country.

This night we spent in burying our dead and in dressing the wounds of our men. Our captain was himself very unwell, as he had lost much blood; and by standing so long on the field of battle had chilled his wounds. We observed the utmost vigilance during this night: the horses stood saddled, and the whole of us were ready for action at a moment’s notice, for we were almost certain that the enemy contemplated some sudden attack. We considered our position in every respect dangerous, as with all our firing and courageous fighting we had not been able to drive the foe from the field of battle, and we soon discovered that we had to deal with bold and intrepid warriors. Our cavalry were therefore commanded to charge the enemy’s line in small bodies, five abreast, and to poise their lances at the face. Several of us veteran Conquistadores had frequently cautioned the new recruits to adopt this mode of attack, but many of them had neglected this good advice, and imagined they had done enough by merely wounding their antagonist. Four of the less experienced ones had paid dearly for this neglect, for the Indians wrested the lances out of their hands and wounded them and their horses with their own weapons. In this battle, six or seven of the enemy had boldly set upon each horse at a time, and laid hold of them with their hands; one of the men they had already dragged by force from his saddle, and they would undoubtedly have carried him off and sacrificed him to their idols if we had not hastened up to his assistance.

During this night we came to the determination of marching early the next day against the town of Chiapa itself. And, indeed, it might in every respect be termed a town, so fine an appearance had the houses, besides being so regularly built. Its population amounted to above 4000 souls, in which that of the many surrounding townships is not included, though the whole of them were subject to Chiapa. Early next morning, accordingly, we marched forward for this place and observed the utmost military precaution; but we had scarcely advanced one mile when we came up with the united forces of this province. The enemy, with surprising swiftness and accoutred in their most splendid war costume, fell upon us from all sides at once under the most hideous yells, and fought with the ferocity of infuriated lions. Our black artilleryman, (for he was every way entitled to the appellation of negro,) in the dread of the moment had quite lost his senses, and forgot to fire the cannon; but when at last, by hollowing out to him at the top of our voices, he summoned sufficient courage to fire it with a trembling hand, he wounded three of our own men, instead of committing any destruction among the enemy’s ranks. Our captain seeing how matters stood, now ordered the cavalry to form themselves in the small bodies above mentioned, the rest of the troops to close in a firm body together and in that way to fall vigorously upon the enemy; but their numbers were too great, and if there had not been many of us present who were accustomed to Indian warfare, the rest of the troops would have been in the greatest consternation. We were indeed astonished to find how firmly these Indians maintained their ground. Father Juan kept constantly encouraging us to the attack, by saying, “That our reward would lay with God and the emperor.” Our captain likewise animated us with the cry of: “Forward! gentlemen, Santiago is with us!” And now we fell upon the enemy with renewed courage and compelled them to give way. From the very unfavorable state of the ground, which was covered with loose stones, our cavalry were unable to pursue the enemy with any success; but we kept as close at their heels as we possibly could, and marched with less precaution, as we thought this day’s work was at an end, and we offered up thanks to God for our victory. However, when we had arrived near to some small hills we found even larger bodies of men drawn up in order of battle. Besides their usual weapons they had a number of ropes with loops at the end, which they threw at the horses in order to pull them to the ground. Strong nets which they use for the purpose of snaring the wild deer were also fixed at certain distances to catch our horse, and they had other smaller ropes with loops, which were to be thrown about our necks to pull us towards them. The whole of these troops in an instant fell upon us, pouring forth as they came along so vast a number of stones, darts, and arrows, that almost every man of us received a fresh wound. In this severe engagement we lost two Spaniards and five horses, and four of the cavalry soldiers had their lances wrested from their hands.

During this battle we saw a very fat old Indian female marching up and down between the enemy’s ranks. She was, we were told, venerated as a goddess by these people. She had divined to her countrymen that we should be vanquished the moment she appeared among them on the field of battle. This woman carried in her hands an idol, carved of stone; and an earthen censer, in which she burnt incense; her body was daubed all over with various colours, and raw cotton was sticking to the paint. Without evincing the least fear she walked into the midst of our Indian allies while they were hotly engaged with the enemy; but this cursed witch met with very little respect from them, for they tore her limb from limb.

When we saw what terrific bodies of the enemy attacked us from all sides, and the astonishing bravery with which they fought, we began to consider ourselves in a very critical position, and we begged of father Juan to commend us in prayer to the protection of the Almighty. We then once more fell vigorously upon the enemy and put them to flight. Numbers concealed themselves in the fissures of the rocks, others threw themselves into the river and sought to escape by swimming, of which art these Indians are likewise perfect masters. We now halted for a short time while father Juan sang a salve, in which those who had a good voice joined in chorus. This melody was indeed pleasing to the ear, and we thanked the Almighty the more fervently for this victory, when we considered our great loss in killed and wounded. We then marched to a small township at no great distance from the town, near the river side. Here the cherry-trees were hanging full of ripe fruit, for it was then lent, which is the season when cherries come to perfection in this country, and they were of a most delicious flavour; we spent the whole day here in order to bury our dead in places where they would not easily be discovered by the inhabitants. Several of our men were wounded, and ten of the horses very severely so; we therefore resolved to pass the night in this township.

The hour of midnight was already past, when ten distinguished Indians arrived in our camp from the townships in the neighbourhood of Chiapa. They had crossed the deep and broad river with five canoes in the utmost silence, in order to elude the vigilance of the Chiapanec troops, and as they came creeping along the bank in a very suspicious manner they were seized by our outposts and brought in prisoners, which was the very thing they desired. When brought into the presence of our captain they addressed him as follows: “We are not, sir, Chiapanecs, but natives of the province of Xaltepec. The base Chiapanecs once commenced a destructive war with us and put great numbers of our countrymen to death, and after plundering us of all we possessed they carried off the greater part of the inhabitants with our wives into slavery, to till their grounds. It is now twelve years that we have toiled for them in base servitude. We are compelled to labour in the plantations of our oppressors, are obliged to fish for them and to do all manner of hard work; but this is not all, for whenever it suits them they forcibly carry off our wives and daughters. We now come to offer you a sufficient number of canoes to pass the river, which we will despatch hither this very night. We will also point out to you the safest ford, for we assure you, without our assistance, you will have great difficulty and run great risk in crossing over. In reward for this good office, we beg of you when you shall have vanquished these Chiapanecs, to rescue us out of their power and allow us to return to our homes. And in order that you may place perfect reliance in what we have stated, we have brought as a present for you three ornaments of gold in the shape of diadems, which we have left behind in the canoes, besides some fowls and cherries.”

They then begged permission of our captain to return to their canoes, in order to fetch these presents, telling him what great precaution they were obliged to use not to fall into the hands of the enemy, who had posted watches everywhere along the river.

Our captain joyfully accepted of their kind offer, and not only promised to grant them their wish of returning to their own country, but to give them a share of the booty we should make in Chiapa. On further questioning them respecting the last battle, they informed us that the enemy had above 120 dead and wounded, but they were determined to attack us the next day again with their united forces; besides that, they would bring into the field the inhabitants of the townships which they, the ambassadors, now represented, but assured our captain they had secretly agreed among themselves to run over to him as soon as the action commenced. The enemy intended, they further said, to fall upon us while we were crossing the river, should we make this dangerous attempt.

Two of these Indians remained with us, while the others returned to their townships, in order to make the necessary arrangements for despatching twenty canoes to us by break of day, which arrived punctually at the time mentioned. In the meantime we laid ourselves down to enjoy a little rest, but took every precaution in posting our watches, as we could plainly hear the wild music of shell-trumpets and drums each time a fresh body of the enemy arrived on the banks of the river.

When day began to dawn we again recognized our new friends as they were secretly coming up with their canoes; but the Chiapanecs had already suspected these people would turn their arms against them, and run over to our side, and had taken several of them prisoners; the rest had fled to the top of an elevated temple, where they fortified themselves, and so it happened that the battle should first commence between the enemy and their former slaves.

Our new allies now led us to the place where we were to ford the river, and they exerted themselves to the utmost to hasten our passage across, for they feared the enemy would sacrifice those of their countrymen whom they had captured in the night, unless we arrived speedily to their rescue. When we came to the ford our horse and foot united in a close body together, in order to stand the better against the rapid stream; we then boldly marched into the water, which reached up to our breasts; but the canoes kept close up with us at our side, and in this way we fortunately reached the opposite shore; but here we were suddenly attacked by the enemy with excessive fury before the half of us could get on dry ground. The greater part of us were instantly wounded, some severely so in two places; two of the horses were lost, and one cavalry soldier, named Guerra or Guerrero, a native of Toledo, had unfortunately got with his horse into a whirlpool, where he himself was drowned, but his horse swam on shore.

We were unable for a length of time to gain a firm footing on dry land, and drive back the enemy; nor could we succeed till our new allies fell upon their rear, and richly did they repay them for their last twelve years of oppression. The whole of us now leaped on shore, and attacked the enemy so vigorously that they fled away in disorder. Our captain then drew up the troops in order of battle, desired our new allies, who had assembled in great numbers, to join our ranks, and in this way, with flying colours, we marched in a direct line for the metropolis itself. When we arrived in the principal quarter of the town, where the temples stood, we found the houses so crowded together, that we durst not risk to quarter ourselves there, from fear of fire, but encamped in an open space, where we were out of all danger. Our general then despatched three of our new allies, and six Chiapanec chiefs, whom we had taken prisoners, with a message to the enemy, desiring them to submit peaceably to our emperor. These messengers were also commissioned to inform the enemy that if they sued for peace without delay, their recent hostilities would be pardoned; but in case they refused to do so, we were determined to punish them severely, and would commence by setting fire to the town. These threats soon brought the enemy to their senses, and they immediately despatched ambassadors to us with a present in gold, offered various excuses for having commenced hostilities with us, and declared themselves vassals of our emperor. At the same time they begged of our captain to forbid our allies setting fire to any more of their dwellings; for they had burnt down several houses in a small township near Chiapa. Luis Marin willingly complied with this request, and strictly commanded both our allies and the inhabitants of Cachula not to commit any further destruction of property.

In this town we found three large wooden cages filled with prisoners, all of whom were merchants, who had been purposely waylaid on the high road by the Chiapanecs, and thrown into these dens to fatten for their sacrifices, and they were all fastened by means of collars to strong beams. Some of these unfortunate beings belonged to the country of the Tzapotecs, others to that of the Quilenes, and several of them were inhabitants of Guautepec and of the province of Soconusco.

We instantly liberated the whole of these prisoners, and sent them to their respective homes. We also found in the temples diabolical looking idols, all of which father Juan ordered to be burnt on the spot, with the remains of several old and young Indians who had been sacrificed in these buildings. In the temples we also discovered traces of other abominations of a most horrible nature.

Our captain now sent to every township in the neighbourhood, desiring the inhabitants to come and sue for peace, and to declare themselves vassals of our emperor. The first who came over were the people of Cinacatan, Capanaustla, Pinola, Quehuiztlan, Chamula, and those of other townships, whose names I have forgotten; after these came the Quilenes, and other tribes who speak the Zoque language. All these tribes expressed their utter astonishment that we should have been able to vanquish the Chiapanecs with so small a body of men, but were excessively rejoiced, for the whole of them were at enmity with this people.

We remained altogether five days in Chiapa, during which time father Juan celebrated the holy mass, confessed many of our men, and preached several sermons to the Indians in their own language, of which he possessed considerable knowledge. The inhabitants listened to him with great delight, knelt down before the cross, and promised they would allow themselves to be baptized. They became indeed excessively fond of father Juan, and said we appeared to be a very good kind of people. While we were thus living on the most friendly terms with the inhabitants, one of our men, without asking our captain’s leave, quitted the camp with eight Mexicans, and marched to the township of Chamula, which had already submitted to our arms without offering any resistance. This man demanded, in the name of his captain, gold ornaments from the inhabitants, of which they gave him a small quantity; but finding at length he could exact no more from them, he took the principal cazique prisoner, which presumptuous behaviour so exasperated the inhabitants, that at first they were going to kill the Spaniard, but for the moment contented themselves by rising up in arms, and persuaded their neighbours of Quehuiztlan to do the same. When Luis Marin received intelligence of this, he ordered the guilty Spaniard to be brought into his presence, and immediately sent him off to Mexico, there to appear before the tribunal of Cortes, being unwilling to punish him himself, as he was a person in high authority; nor will I, for the sake of his honour, mention his name at present, as I shall again have occasion to speak about him, for he afterwards committed an offence of a more criminal nature, and was, upon the whole, very cruel to the Indians. Luis Marin then sent a messenger to the Chamulans, desiring them to return to their former obedience, as he had sent the Spaniard who had offended them to Mexico, where he would meet with severe punishment; but they returned a most impudent answer to this message, which we were the more determined to resent, as they had incited their neighbours of the surrounding townships to join them in the revolt. We therefore resolved to march against Chamula, and not to desist until we had thoroughly subdued the inhabitants.

Before our departure, father Juan and our captain said many edifying things to the inhabitants of Chiapa respecting our holy religion, and admonished them to abolish their idol-worship, the sacrificing of human beings, and other abominations which they practised. Father Juan then placed a cross and the image of the blessed Virgin on the altar which had been erected, and Luis Marin explained to them, among other things, how we were all vassals of our great emperor, and then took possession of above half their town, in which we intended to form a settlement. Our new allies, who were so serviceable to us in assisting us across the river, marched, with their wives, children, and all their property from the land of the Chiapanecs, and settled themselves forty miles further down the river, at a spot where at present Xaltepec stands, the neighbouring township of Istatlan being also comprehended in their territory.

Before we entered on our expedition against Chamula, we sent to the inhabitants of Cinacatan, who are a people of sound understanding, and, for the greater part, merchants, desiring them to provide us with 200 porters, as we should pass over their town on our way to Chamula. In the same way we requested the Chiapanecs to furnish us with 200 of their warriors to join us in this campaign; these they supplied without any hesitation.

In this way we marched out one morning very early from Chiapa, and arrived on the first day near some salt pits, where the people of Cinacatan had erected huts for us made of green boughs; and about noon on the following day, which happened to be Easter Sunday, we reached the latter township itself. From this place we once more sent a message to the Chamulans, desiring them to return to obedience; but as they still obstinately refused, we were obliged to continue our march thither. The distance from Cinacatan to Chamula may have been about twelve miles; the town itself, from its natural position, was a perfect fortress, and on the side we contemplated our attack was a deep ravine, which was even more formidable and less easy of approach at other points. When we had arrived near to the town, we were greeted by so vast a number of arrows, darts, and stones from the heights above, that the ground was literally covered with them, and five Spaniards, with four horses, were wounded; the enemy, at the same time, yelling most hideously, accompanied by the wild music of shell-trumpets, pipes, and drums, all of which must indeed have terrified those who had never heard the like before. Our captain soon discovered that the cavalry would not be able to act at all among these rugged mountains, and therefore ordered them to move back again into the plain beneath, and watch the movements of the Quiahuitlans, who had likewise revolted, and might fall upon our rear while we were thus hotly engaged with the Chamulans.

We now commenced an incessant fire upon the enemy with our muskets and crossbows, but were unable to do them any injury, so securely were they posted behind the breastworks, their position being in every respect advantageous, and they continually wounded our men. In this way the battle lasted until nightfall, and we were no further advanced than when we commenced our attack in the morning. At one time we attempted to force a passage which led between the ramparts; but here no less than 2000 Indians stretched out against us a forest of long lances; and if we had entered this passage we should have run great danger of being pushed headlong down the deep hollow, and so have been dashed to atoms. Finding we should never be able to make any impression on the fortress in this way, we determined to send to a small township in the neighbourhood for some wood and other materials, and to construct a species of penthouse sufficiently large to cover twenty men, who were to undermine the fortress with mattocks and pick-axes. Accordingly, when the penthouse was finished, our men set hard to work, and at length succeeded in cutting an opening sufficiently large to admit one person at a time; and by this means only was it possible to get into the town, for we had carefully inspected the spot on all sides, full four miles in circumference, and we found but one other entrance to this rocky height, which would have been even more difficult to force, and a person might as well have thrown himself at once down an abyss as to have attempted an attack upon it, so very steep was the descent. While we were busily at work under our penthouse in widening the breach, the enemy cast down upon us a quantity of burning pitch and resin, boiling water and blood, hot ashes and firebrands; but when they found we were not to be daunted by this, they rolled down huge pieces of rock upon the penthouse, by which it was shattered, and we were obliged to retire in order to construct stronger ones.

When these were finished, and we were again moving on with them towards the breaches we had made, four priests, with several distinguished personages, all well covered with shields, appeared on the battlements, and cried out to us, “As your only object is to obtain gold, come in here, we have it in abundance!” With these words they threw towards us seven diadems of very fine gold, besides various other trinkets, all of which they accompanied by a cloud of stones, arrows, and darts. As we had by this time made two considerable breaches, and it was growing dark and beginning to rain, we retreated to our camp for the remaining part of the day: our captain also sent orders to the cavalry not to quit their position on the level plain, but narrowly to watch the enemy’s movements, and to keep their horses ready saddled and bridled.

The enemy continued their fearful yells during the whole of the night, with the discordant sound of shell-trumpets, drums, and screeching pipes. The next day, they said, we were all to be killed, for this had been promised them by their gods. The following morning early, when we again moved forward with our penthouses to widen the breaches, the enemy defended themselves right valiantly, and wounded five of our men. I myself received a heavy thrust from a lance, which completely pierced my armour, and I should certainly have lost my life on the spot if my cuirass had not been strongly quilted with cotton. Thus I fortunately escaped with only a slight wound, and with my jacket considerably torn.

By this time it was mid-day, and rain fell in torrents, which was followed by so dense a fog that we could scarcely see each other; for as this township lay very high among the mountains, it either rained there, or the place was enveloped in a mist. Owing to the great darkness, our captain had ordered the men to desist from the attack; but, for myself, as I was well acquainted with the Mexican mode of warfare, I soon concluded, from the circumstance of the enemy’s war music gradually dying away, and their yells becoming less frequent, that they were likewise desirous of retiring, on account of the fog. After a short time I could not count above 200 of the enemy’s lances; so that I, with one of my companions, boldly entered one of the breaches, and we certainly did not encounter a greater number of the enemy than I had counted lances. In an instant they fell upon us, and we should undoubtedly have been killed if some Indians of Cinacatan had not hastened to our assistance and alarmed the rest of our troops, who now likewise forced their way in between the breaches into the fortress. As soon as the enemy espied our troops rushing in, they fled precipitately; the women and children ran off to the other declivity, which was the most difficult to reach; we, however, followed them closely, and took a number of them prisoners, besides thirty men. The township was now entirely in our possession, but we found nothing in it, with the exception of a few provisions, and we quitted the place almost immediately again. We then returned along the road leading to Cinacatan, and formed our camp on the banks of the river where at present Ciudad Real stands, which is also termed Chiapa de los Españoles. When we had arrived here, our captain liberated six of the women and a like number of the men, and despatched them to their countrymen with offers of peace, and also to assure them they had nothing further to fear from us,—on the contrary, we would liberate all the prisoners we had taken. This message met with a favorable reception, and ambassadors were sent to us next morning by the inhabitants, who now, for the second time, declared themselves vassals of our emperor, and, as we had promised, all the prisoners were instantly restored to their families.

After we had satisfactorily arranged all matters here, Luis Marin presented the township of Chamula to me as a commendary, for Cortes had expressly desired him to give me some valuable possession in the conquered countries. I always stood upon very good terms with Luis Marin, and he had not forgotten that I was the first man who forced his way into the town. This place, according to the deeds I received from Cortes, was given to me in perpetuity, but I only enjoyed the rents which it produced for little more than eight years, at the end of which time Ciudad Real was founded, and my commendary became the property of the inhabitants. When I entered into possession of it, I desired father Juan to preach to the inhabitants, and to explain our holy religion to them, with which he willingly complied, and ordered an altar to be constructed in the town, on which he placed a cross and the image of the blessed Virgin. Fifteen of the inhabitants allowed themselves to be baptized, and the father said he hoped to God they might all become good Catholic Christians. I felt highly delighted with all this; for, as these people were my own property, I naturally took a more particular interest in their welfare.

Though Chamula had again submitted to our arms, the townships of Guegustitlan still obstinately held out, notwithstanding all our kind messages to the caziques; we had, therefore, no other resource left than to march against them, and subdue them by force of arms. Each of these townships (for there were three) was strongly situated, and we therefore left our allies, with the baggage, in the camp, our captain only taking the most nimble and active of the Spanish troops with him, besides 300 warriors of Cinacatan. The distance to Guegustitlan was sixteen miles; but the enemy had everywhere cut down trees and constructed barricades along the line of our march to obstruct the cavalry; however, with the assistance of our Indian friends, we soon cleared these obstacles out of our way, and it was not long before we attacked one of the three townships. The place was well fortified and filled with warriors fully equipped for war; we, nevertheless, stormed the town, although it was even more difficult of access than Chamula. The enemy had not waited to offer any resistance to our arms, and we found the town quite deserted by its inhabitants, who had also carried off all their store of provisions; but it was not long before our Indian friends brought in two of the inhabitants prisoners, whom our captain immediately liberated, desiring them to go and call their countrymen. We staid one whole day in this place, during which time the inhabitants of all three townships submitted themselves as vassals to our emperor, and presented us with a small quantity of gold and some quetzal feathers, which are of great value in this country.

After we had returned to our camp we deliberated whether or not we should follow up Cortes’ instructions, and lay the foundations of a town in this neighbourhood. Many of us were in favour of doing so, but others, who had lucrative possessions in Guacasualco, were quite opposed to it, and said we should have no shoes for the horses; that the most of us were wounded, and we were altogether too small in numbers to think of settling in a country so thickly populated: besides that, all the townships were strongly situated among steep mountains, inaccessible to our cavalry. But those who objected most to our founding a colony here were Luis Marin himself and Diego de Godoy, a very blustering sort of a man, both of whom felt more inclination to return to Guacasualco.

I have above spoken of a certain Alonso de Grado, who was a very turbulent fellow, though but a poor soldier. This man had managed to procure privately from Cortes a certain grant by which he was to have half the gold we should find in Chiapa when we had subjected this township. Grado now produced this document and claimed half of the gold found in the temples of this place, and of that which we had obtained from the inhabitants, altogether valued at about 15,000 pesos; but our captain maintained that, out of this gold, the value of the horses was to be deducted which had been killed in our recent campaign. This, added to other circumstances, gave rise to high words between the two, and Grado frequently made use of unbecoming expressions during the dispute; and the secretary Godoy, to make matters worse, now also put in his word, and things at length came to such a pass that Luis Marin lost all patience, and threw both these gentlemen into chains. After they had been in prison for about eight days, our captain sent Grado on his parole to Mexico, and also released Godoy, who had shown full contrition for his past behaviour. This was very impolitic on the part of Luis Marin as far as regarded himself, for Grado and Godoy now concocted measures together, and the latter wrote a letter to Cortes, in which he scandalized our captain in every possible manner. Alonso de Grado also requested me to draw up a letter to Cortes, in which he wished me to exculpate him in this affair, for he had been assured by Godoy that Cortes would believe me. I willingly complied with his request, and drew up a faithful account of the whole matter, but stated that no blame could be attached to Luis Marin. With these letters Grado set out for Mexico, after our captain had made him promise on oath to appear before Cortes within the space of eight days; for the distance from this place to Mexico by the road we had marched was 760 miles.

Our next step was to march to Cimatan, in order to punish its inhabitants, who, it will be remembered, killed two Spaniards on the occasion when Francisco Martin and myself so narrowly escaped. When we were on our march thither, and had arrived at no great distance from Tapelola, we came to some large mountains, containing several dangerous passes, through which our march lay to this township; Luis Marin, therefore, sent to the caziques of this place, desiring them to clear the roads for us that our horses might pass along in greater safety. This they readily undertook to do; but even then it was with great difficulty our cavalry could pass through the defiles. From Tapelola we marched peaceably over the townships Silo, Suchiapa, and Coyumelapa, to Panguaxaya, and it was not until we approached the townships of Tecomayacatl and Ateapan, which then formed but one town, that matters began to assume a different aspect. These were the most populous townships in the province, and formed part of my commendary. As the inhabitants of themselves were very numerous, and had besides called in the assistance of their neighbours, they mustered a very considerable body of troops, and attacked us as we were crossing the deep river which flows through the midst of their town. Six Spaniards were wounded and three of our horses killed, the battle continuing very sharply for a length of time before we could reach the opposite shore and drive the enemy back, who set fire to the houses in their flight, and then escaped to the mountains. Here we rested for five days to cure our wounds, and we sent out frequent foraging parties who captured many a fine Indian female. We then forwarded a message to the inhabitants, inviting them to return to obedience, with which they instantly complied, and their wives and children were again restored to them. The secretary Godoy had indeed advised Luis Marin not to return the prisoners, but to mark them with the iron and retain them as slaves, a punishment to which all those were subject who had once acknowledged themselves vassals of our emperor, and afterwards revolted without any apparent reason. These people, Godoy maintained, had commenced hostilities with us from sheer obstinacy, and we ought at least to demand a sufficient number of slaves as a compensation for the loss of our three horses. For myself, I loudly protested against this, and said it would be unjust to punish these people who had freely submitted again to our arms. At length Godoy and myself got to high words about this matter, which ended in our drawing swords and wounding each other, when our friends interfered and brought about a reconciliation between us. Luis Marin, who was, upon the whole, a very kind-hearted man, was convinced of the justness of my observation, and ordered all the prisoners to be returned to the caziques, and so we departed from them in perfect peace.

From this place we marched towards Cimatlan and Talatupan. At the entrance of this township the Indians had constructed, on the top of a hill, a species of rampart, with loop-holes, beyond which lay a marsh of considerable extent. When we had arrived up to this outwork, the enemy suddenly showered their arrows upon us, wounding above twenty of our men and killing two horses; and if we had not made a hasty retreat our loss might have been very serious.

The Indians of this province excel as archers, and fly their arrows with so much strength that they will pierce a jacket doubly quilted with cotton.

After this momentary attack upon us, the Indians drew back to the marshes, and we remained two whole days in this place, during which time we despatched several messages to them; but as they obstinately refused to submit, and were securely posted between the swamps, where our horse could not manœuvre, nor would it have been an easy matter for the foot to have got at them, and as we ourselves were quite tired of roving about, we unanimously determined to march back to Guacasualco. We took our route through the townships of Guimango, Nacaxu, Xuica, Teotitan-Copilco, and several others, all belonging to the province of Chontalpa. We then crossed the rivers Ayagualulco, and Tonala, and we arrived safely in Guacasualco, when the owners of those horses which had been killed in this campaign were reimbursed for their loss from the gold collected in Chiapa and Chamula.

In the meantime, Alonso de Grado arrived in Mexico and presented himself to Cortes. When Cortes learned the true facts of the case, he became extremely angry with this officer and said to him, “It seems, Señor Alonso, that you cannot get along peacefully with anyone! I must strongly advise you to change your bad disposition; if not, I will give you 3,000 pesos and send you off to Cuba. I cannot let you continue this way any longer!” Alonso de Grado then humbly begged for forgiveness and expressed his regret for what had happened, so that our general, and even Luis Marin, were soon reconciled with him.

I must now end this chapter, so I can inform the reader about what was happening at the imperial court in Spain regarding the bishop of Burgos.

## CHAPTER CLXVII. {.chapter}
*How our agents in Spain brought certain accusations against the bishop of Burgos, and what further happened.*

The reader will have noticed, from what I have mentioned in previous chapters, that the bishop of Burgos and archbishop of Rosano, Don Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca, greatly favored Diego Velasquez in every way, and, on the other hand, took every opportunity to hinder the plans of Cortes and all of us. But now, by divine permission of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the holy father Adrian was elected Pope in the year 1521; and as this happened while he was governor of Spain, our agents traveled to the town of Vittoria, where he was staying, to pay their respects to his holiness. At the same time, a distinguished German gentleman named La Chau, who had been sent by the emperor to congratulate the new Pope, arrived in Vittoria. Having heard about the heroic deeds of Cortes and his troops—how we had conquered New Spain, the great and memorable services we had rendered to his majesty, and the many thousands of Indians we had converted to Christianity—he asked his holiness to investigate the dispute between Cortes and the bishop of Burgos. His holiness agreed, and immediately took up the matter, especially since the complaints brought by our agents had encouraged several other notable men to bring accusations of injustice and oppression against the bishop. The bishop, as president of the council of the Indies during the emperor’s absence in Flanders, had ruled in the most arbitrary way, and was generally detested; yet, it was still quite difficult for our agents to have him removed as the judge in our affairs.

Francisco de Montejo, Diego de Ordas, the licentiate Francisco Nuñez, and Martin Cortes purposely stayed in Valladolid to await a good opportunity to file their charges against the bishop. There, they found much protection and support from several distinguished nobles and grandees of the court—especially the duke of Bejar—so that our agents were emboldened to firmly maintain that they would not accept the bishop as judge in their affairs. They put forward the following reasons:

Firstly, Diego Velasquez had given the bishop of Burgos a very profitable commendary in Cuba, with gold mines worked by the island’s inhabitants, and the proceeds were sent to Spain for the bishop. Velasquez had not set aside a single township on that island for the emperor, even though he owed him so much.

Secondly, in 1517, one hundred and ten of us, under an officer named Cordoba, had outfitted an expedition at our own expense, with which we discovered and explored the coast of New Spain. The bishop of Burgos reported this to his majesty as though Velasquez had paid for this armament himself and discovered the country, even though Velasquez had nothing to do with it at all.

Thirdly, only after this expedition returned did Velasquez send one of his nephews, Juan Grijalva, with a small force to make further discoveries. Grijalva returned to Cuba with more than 20,000 pesos’ worth of gold, the greater part of which went into the bishop’s pocket, and not a single coin was paid into the royal treasury.

Fourthly, when Cortes, during the conquest of New Spain, sent Montejo and Puertocarrero (cousin to the earl of Medellin) to Spain with the gold “sun,” the silver “moon,” and gold dust, as well as various kinds of jewels and trinkets as presents for his majesty—along with despatches from Cortes and all the Conquistadors, giving a full account of our actions in the New World—the bishop refused to give our agents an audience, insulted them shamefully by calling them traitors and agents of a traitor, and took the presents meant for his majesty. He withheld our reports to the emperor, sent his majesty an account that was the very opposite of ours, and made it seem like everything was due to his ally Diego Velasquez. But he didn’t stop there; he kept the greater part of the valuable presents for himself, and when Puertocarrero asked the bishop’s permission to go in person to his majesty in Flanders, the bishop had him imprisoned, where he died.

Fifthly, the bishop had forbidden the two chief harbour-masters of Seville to let any vessels carrying troops, ammunition, or other supplies for Cortes leave the harbor.

Sixthly, the bishop, without the king’s authority, tried to give the most important posts to men who were neither qualified nor deserved to fill those roles. For example, he gave the government of New Spain to Christobal de Tapia, who was unfit even for a lesser command, whose only qualification was that he had married Doña Petronella de Fonseca—a niece of the bishop and close relative of Velasquez.

And finally, the bishop gladly accepted all the false statements from Velasquez’s agents, while suppressing, distorting, or twisting the true, honest reports that Cortes and the rest of us sent to his majesty.

These and other complaints against the bishop, accompanied by undeniable evidence, were properly compiled by our agents. They went to Saragossa, where his holiness was staying, handed over these documents, and formally challenged the bishop as an unfit judge in these matters.

After his holiness read this presentation and saw for himself that there was little truth in the claims of extravagant expenses Velasquez said he bore, and that Velasquez had always acted in his own and the bishop’s interests, while Cortes genuinely served the interests of the emperor, his holiness declared the bishop unfit to preside as judge in the dispute between Cortes and Velasquez and removed him as president of the council of the Indies.

His holiness also appointed Cortes governor of New Spain and ordered that Velasquez should be reimbursed for his expenses in organizing the expedition. He sent several papal bulls with indulgences for the hospitallers and churches of New Spain, and wrote a separate letter to Cortes and all of us Conquistadors, admonishing us to do our utmost to convert the Indians to Christianity, abolish all human sacrifices and other abominations, and win the friendship of the people. In doing so, he said, we would earn the highest rewards from his majesty, and as the pastor of our souls, he would pray for God to bless our efforts in the service of Christianity. This letter was also accompanied by other bulls granting us absolution for all the sins we had committed during the conquest.

After this very favorable decision from his holiness, acting as both supreme pontiff and governor of Spain, our agents wrote to his majesty—who had just returned from Flanders—and included some papers his holiness had prepared on the subject. His majesty, after a careful investigation, confirmed the pope’s decision, appointed Cortes governor of New Spain, and likewise ordered that Velasquez be reimbursed for the expedition’s expenses. But the emperor went even further: he removed Velasquez from the government of Cuba because Velasquez had organized the Narvaez expedition to New Spain without permission, against the orders of the royal court of audience at St. Domingo and the Hieronymite brotherhood, and for disobeying the auditor Vasquez de Aillon and even imprisoning him, though he had been expressly sent from the royal court of audience to Cuba to forbid the expedition from departing.

When the bishop of Burgos learned of the decisions made by his holiness and his majesty, he fell ill from frustration, left the court, and retired to his country estate at Toro. His brother, Don Antonio de Fonseca, lord of Coca and Alaexos, did all he could to have him reinstated to his former office, but none of his efforts swayed the emperor.

So, at once, everything ended favorably for Cortes—but good fortune is fleeting, for soon Narvaez, Christobal de Tapia, and the soldier Cardenas brought major accusations against him. All of this was thrown on top of the charges brought against our general by the pilot Umbria, whom Cortes had sentenced to have his legs cut off when Cermenno and Escudero were hanged for the conspiracy they had formed against his life.

## CHAPTER CLXVIII. {.chapter}
*How Narvaez, Christobal de Tapia, the pilot Umbria, and the soldier Cardenas, brought heavy accusations against Cortes at the instigation of the bishop of Burgos, and what judgment his majesty pronounced.*

After the pope and the emperor, as I have just described, had judged in favor of Cortes, Pamfilo de Narvaez and Christobal de Tapia arrived in Spain. They were accompanied by the soldier Cardenas and the pilot Umbria, and immediately went to the bishop of Burgos at Toro, requesting his assistance in bringing charges against Cortes before his majesty. The bishop, delighted by this, promised them full support, and under his advice, they joined Velasquez’s agents, Bernardino Velasquez, Benito Martin, and Manuel de Rojas, appearing together before his majesty, where they presented the following charges against Cortes:

Firstly. Diego Velasquez had sent out three distinct armaments for the discovery and colonization of New Spain, spending large sums of money on these ventures. He had appointed Cortes as commander-in-chief of one expedition, but Cortes deserted with the entire armament and refused further obedience to Velasquez.

Secondly. When Diego Velasquez in response sent Narvaez with eighteen vessels, 1,300 foot soldiers, a significant cavalry, musketeers, and crossbowmen to New Spain, Cortes not only refused to recognize the papers from the president of the council of the Indies assigning the government to Narvaez, but attacked Narvaez with his troops, killed several officers, struck out Narvaez’s eye in battle, and took him and his men prisoner.

Thirdly. When the bishop of Burgos then appointed Christobal de Tapia as governor of New Spain, sending him in person to take up the post in his majesty’s name, Cortes again refused to obey, forcing Tapia to leave the country.

Fourthly. Cortes had demanded, in the name of his majesty, large amounts of gold from towns throughout New Spain, which the inhabitants delivered, but he kept all of it for himself.

Fifthly. Cortes had taken an equal share with his majesty of the treasure found in Mexico, which provoked much dissatisfaction among the men.

Sixthly. He had tortured Quauhtemoctzin and other chiefs to extract more gold from them.

Seventhly. Cortes never distributed any gold among his troops, keeping everything for himself.

Eighthly. Cortes was building palaces and fortifications on the scale of entire towns, forcing local inhabitants to labor on these works and transport large cedar trees and immense stones from distant areas.

Ninthly. He had poisoned Francisco de Garay to seize his ships and troops.

Besides these, they presented many similar accusations, so much so that his majesty became extremely annoyed, believing all he heard, and refused to listen to more, saying these were sufficient.

During this hearing, Narvaez, with his booming voice, declared: “Your majesty can imagine what happened to me the night Cortes attacked and defeated me; for when his men blinded one of my eyes and I found my quarters in flames, I quickly hid the deed confirming your majesty’s appointment inside my cuirass; but one of Cortes’ officers forcibly took those papers from me, nor could I recover them. They even spread the rumor that I had no such commission, and that those papers were merely bonds.”

The emperor laughed at this statement, but promised Narvaez and the others they would receive justice. His majesty then appointed a commission from his court and privy council, in whom he could place absolute trust, to investigate all the charges and deliver judgment. The commission members were: Mercurio Catarinario, high chancellor of Italy; señor la Chau; Dr. de la Rocha; Hernando de Vega, lord of Grajales and comendador-mayor of Castile; Dr. Lorenzo Galindez de Caravajal; and licentiate Vargas, treasurer-general of Castile. His majesty asked these gentlemen to make the most careful inquiry into the dispute between Velasquez and Cortes, as well as the current accusations, and specifically instructed them to dispense true justice, being impartial to all. The commissioners assembled at the high chancellor’s house and summoned Narvaez, his three companions, and Velasquez’s agents. Likewise, they summoned Martin Cortes, licentiate Nuñez, Montejo, and Ordas. After hearing the charges against Cortes, they replied as follows:

Regarding the claim that Velasquez was the original discoverer of New Spain and spent heavily to do so, it was false—the credit belonged to Cordoba, who funded the expedition himself. Velasquez, in various circumstances involving that voyage, acted wrongly, as he tried to persuade Cordoba and his companions to go to the Guanajas islands, planning to forcibly take many people as slaves for his mines in Cuba; all of which, our agents proved beyond doubt. Also, when Velasquez sent his kinsman Grijalva to New Spain, he did not instruct him to found settlements, just to trade with the Indians. Velasquez hardly paid the costs that time, as most expenses were met by the officers and soldiers themselves—one of whom, Francisco de Montejo, was present before the commission. Grijalva returned to Cuba with gold valued at 20,000 pesos, which Velasquez did not pay into the royal treasury, instead keeping it for himself and sending it to the bishop of Burgos to receive further favors. He also gave the bishop large numbers of Indians to work his Cuban gold mines, without ever thinking to assign any towns for the crown. Of all this, our agents provided clear evidence.

If Velasquez, our agents continued, did grant Cortes command over the armament, it was surely by divine ordinance, and proved extremely fortunate for the emperor’s interest; any other general would have failed against the hostile forces opposing the march inland. However, Velasquez’s only intention with the expedition was to trade with the Indians, not to conquer or settle, as original documents containing his orders confirmed. Cortes remained and founded a colony because his troops insisted and because he believed it would serve both God and his majesty. On these points, Cortes’ troops prepared a report, which was sent to his majesty with all collected gold; Cortes and his men were always mindful of their duty and loyalty to their sovereign. Our agents also described the clear favor shown to Velasquez on all occasions by the president of the council of the Indies, how he took the gold and our messages from our agents, kept half of the gold for himself, slandered us to the king, suppressed the truth, and misrepresented facts. Furthermore, when our agents tried to reach Flanders to present their case directly to his majesty, the bishop imprisoned one, named Puertocarrero, a cousin of the earl of Medellin, who died there. With similar malice, the bishop issued strict orders preventing ammunition, troops, or supplies for Cortes from leaving Seville and did whatever he could to obstruct him. He called Cortes and all his men traitors, purely out of self-interest and because of his close ties to Velasquez and the proposed marriage of his niece to Christobal de Tapia, in exchange for which Tapia was to be made governor of New Spain.

To prove these and other points, our agents presented copies of our letters to his majesty, as well as other important documents; so that the Velasquez party could not refute any of them.

Regarding the Narvaez armament, our agents argued Velasquez deserved the death penalty, as he had dispatched it against Cortes without any authority from his majesty and contrary to the orders of the royal court of audience at St. Domingo, and the Hieronymite brotherhood, whom the emperor had appointed as viceroys of the West Indies. Diego Velasquez had always ignored his majesty and only worked through the council of the Indies. In his hostility, he neglected the crown’s true interests, constantly stirring up trouble among the troops in New Spain, though unity among them was critical to the conquest and conversion of the people. Velasquez’s defiance extended so far that he ordered the royal court’s special envoy, licentiate Vasquez de Aillon—who was sent to urge Narvaez not to fight Cortes—imprisoned and returned to Cuba. As Narvaez himself was present and accused Cortes and his troops of high treason (*crimen læsæ majestatis*), our party returned the charge, demanding Narvaez be sentenced to death, since on landing in New Spain, he told Motecusuma his sole aim was to free him and to hang Cortes and his men for treason. This caused a widespread uprising, undoing all peace achieved so far. This conduct was all the more outrageous because, as soon as Narvaez arrived in Vera Cruz, Cortes had written him a respectful letter, asking to see his royal commission, promising to obey if it bore the king's signature. Narvaez never replied, instead branding Cortes and his men as traitors and declaring war, even making them outlaws. Despite this, Cortes still repeatedly offered Narvaez peace and begged him not to stir up rebellion, since the whole of New Spain would be lost if he did. Cortes even suggested sharing the government, allowing Narvaez his choice of provinces. Narvaez ignored all such offers, forcing Cortes to demand satisfaction for the arrest of a royal auditor. Cortes then proposed a personal meeting, which Narvaez accepted, but intended to seize Cortes at the meeting. Duero, present before the commission and once an officer under Narvaez, warned Cortes of this planned treachery.

Velasquez’s agents could not refute any of these points; thus, our agents continued: Regarding Garay’s expedition, Cortes was not responsible for its failure, but the people of Panuco, who attacked the troops, and Garay and all his men would surely have been killed if Garay had not asked for Cortes’s help. Garay came to Mexico for assistance and was warmly welcomed by Cortes, but soon after caught a violent cold and died—not by poison, as had been alleged. Cortes had no reason to harm Garay, who was not capable as a commander and had angered his own troops by leading them to a pest-ridden region, causing a mutiny. When the soldiers learned of Mexico’s wealth and Cortes’s generosity, they dispersed, looted towns, seized women, and provoked native uprisings. Cortes's only reason for sending officers to Garay was to offer aid and review his documents to see if they overlapped with Cortes’s commissions from his majesty. When Garay’s men deserted and most vessels were lost, he journeyed to Mexico for help. Along the way, he was celebrated, entertained in Tezcuco, and finally welcomed to Cortes's own palace in Mexico. Garay and Cortes became friends, even arranging a marriage between Garay’s eldest son and a daughter of Cortes, who agreed to assist Garay in an expedition to the river Palmas. But Garay fell critically ill and died soon after; yet Velasquez’s agents blamed Cortes for it. Cortes showed genuine grief, honored him with a grand funeral and mourning, and court surgeons swore under oath that Garay died of pleurisy.

Cortes was also accused of keeping an equal fifth of all gold with the emperor. In response, during their election of Cortes as captain-general and chief justice of New Spain, the troops had agreed to grant him a fifth of all treasure until his majesty decided otherwise. Besides, Cortes had spent his own wealth on the king's behalf—over 60,000 pesos alone on the Panuco expedition—so he had earned his share, and without it, could not have sent valuable gifts to Spain.

Velasquez’s agents could not challenge this, so our agents continued:

Cortes was also accused of giving his men so little gold—but he could distribute no more than he had, and the conquest of Mexico yielded little, as the Tlascallans and other allies carried off most of the booty. The claim that he tortured Quauhtemoctzin and other chiefs for gold was false; Cortes opposed such actions, but crown officers insisted to discover hidden treasure.

It was true, our agents said, that Cortes was building grand homes, but always in the emperor’s name. It was untrue he transported wood and stone from remote places, as timber grew near the city and was easily brought by water, and stones came from many torn-down temples within the city itself. Velasquez's agents misrepresented the construction methods in Mexico. Cortes benefited only from the local system: when he needed workers, Quauhtemoctzin sent them from nearby towns, as was the custom since subjects always built houses for their chiefs.

Narvaez’s claim regarding the appointment papers was false; Alonso de Avila did not take them nor pretended they were just bonds. Cortes never saw Narvaez’s commission nor ordered anyone to ask for it; as a matter of fact, all Narvaez’s papers were three bonds given for horses sold on credit.

The complaints of pilot Umbria and soldier Cardenas were pure fiction. Umbria did not lose his feet without cause, but by proper sentence for deserting with two companions (who were executed) and trying to steal a ship for Cuba.

Cardenas, who complained he received nothing from the first shipment of gold to his majesty, had in fact signed a document with others, willingly giving up his share so all the gold could be sent as a present to the emperor. Yet Cortes still gave him 300 pesos from his own pocket to help him return to New Spain with his wife and family—a generous sum given his poor fitness for military duty and unstable mind.

Our agents further remarked how surprising it was that accusations were made against Cortes and his men for defeating Narvaez, taking his officers, and burning his camp! They had explained Narvaez’s conduct thoroughly already: he compelled Cortes to arms, and it was as if by divine will that Cortes, with only 266 men, lacking even cavalry, cannon, or muskets, overcame Narvaez’s 1,300 well-armed soldiers and artillery. New Spain surely would have been lost to Spain had Narvaez or Tapia governed; Tapia himself realized his inadequacy, sold his horses and slaves to Cortes, and left. If Tapia had arrived in Mexico and shown Cortes his royal commission, Cortes would have obeyed, but the local nobility would never have accepted such a weak governor. Leading nobles petitioned the king to remove Tapia’s appointment.

With this, our agents concluded their defense; the accusers had nothing left to say, and after five days, the commission recessed to deliberate and delivered the following judgment:

The commissioners declared that Cortes and the other true and only Conquistadores of New Spain had on every occasion shown themselves loyal and faithful servants of his majesty. Good fortune no doubt favored them, but their courage and skill in hard battles with the natives, and the victory over Narvaez’s far larger army, fully deserved that fortune. The commissioners found Velasquez had no grounds to claim the government of New Spain, but he could sue Cortes for reimbursement in the appropriate courts.

They confirmed the pope’s appointment of Cortes as governor of New Spain; all divisions of land already made by him should remain in force, and he was given further power to assign land in future as he judged best, since all he had done so far was clearly for God and the king; so it was assumed he would continue accordingly.

On the accusation involving Garay’s death, the commissioners deferred judgment pending further investigation. They reached no present decision on Narvaez’s claim that his commission was taken, because the supposed culprit, Alonso de Avila, was imprisoned in France; but they would request the French king to release him for questioning. For pilot Umbria and soldier Cardenas, the commissioners would ask his majesty to award each a commendary in New Spain worth 1,000 pesos a year.

Regarding the Conquistadores, they proposed that all receive lucrative commendaries and formal precedence in churches and public places.

These conclusions were formally prepared and sent to the royal court at Valladolid for his majesty’s confirmation.

Not only did his majesty confirm all the commission’s decisions, but he also issued royal letters giving Cortes power to expel from New Spain all deserters and Spaniards wandering as vagrants, since they hindered the conversion of Indians to Christianity. Additionally, no lawyers were allowed to settle in New Spain for several years, as they only caused lawsuits, quarrels, and discord among the residents.

These royal letters were dated at the court of Valladolid on the 17th of May in the year fifteen hundred and so many years, countersigned by the aforementioned commissioners, Don Garcia de Padilla, and the royal secretary Don Francisco de los Cobos, who later became comendador-mayor of Leon. Moreover, his majesty wrote to Cortes and all of us veteran Conquistadores, expressing his deep satisfaction with the great and distinguished services we had performed for the crown.

Around this time, Ferdinand king of Hungary and the Romans also wrote to Cortes, thanking him for the splendid gold ornaments and jewels he sent, saying he was pleased to hear of his outstanding services rendered above all to God, then to his brother the emperor and to all Christendom, and stating he would happily promote Cortes’s interests with the emperor. He felt indebted to such a meritorious man and wished to express his highest regard for his brave companions as well.

This letter likewise contained many kind words for the Conquistadores; I clearly remember it was signed, *I the king and Infante of Castile*, and countersigned by private secretary Castillejo. I read the letter myself two or three times in Mexico, as Cortes showed it to me to prove the high esteem in which we the true Conquistadores were held by his majesty.

Once these royal mandates and letters were given to our agents, they hastened to send them to Mexico with Cortes’s cousin, Rodrigo de Paz, accompanied by Francisco de las Casas, a nobleman of Estremadura and a relative of our general. They sailed in an excellent vessel and had a very favorable voyage. On the way, they stopped in Cuba and, with trumpet fanfare, published the king’s decision in favor of Cortes, demanding Velasquez account for the funds spent on the armament. The governor of Cuba was so disheartened by losing his case that he fell ill and soon after died, very poor and miserable.

To avoid returning to these topics later, I note here that Francisco de Montejo and Diego de Ordas made the most of their time at the imperial court, with great success. Montejo was appointed governor and chief justice of Yucatan and Cozumel, and was granted the privilege of the 'Don' before his name. Diego de Ordas was confirmed in his New Spain holdings, given a commendary of the order of St. Jago, and was granted the right to include the volcano of Huexotzinco in his coat of arms.

After these high honors had been conferred on them, both gentlemen returned to Mexico. However, Ordaz, after three years, again went back to Spain and obtained permission from the emperor to conquer the land along the river Marannon. He raised an expedition for this, but ultimately lost both his property and his life during the endeavor.

When the bishop of Burgos learned that everything had ended in our favor, and heard about the great honors that His Majesty had given to Cortes and all the Conquistadors, he concluded that the members of the commission of inquiry must have eventually seen through all his dealings with the governor of Cuba. He assumed they realized he had withheld all the gold we sent for His Majesty to Spain, and had concealed the extent of the great services we had performed for the crown. These thoughts weighed so heavily on his mind that, like his associate Diego Velasquez, he fell dangerously ill. In his misery, he suffered the added disappointment of seeing his nephew, Don Alonso de Fonseca, appointed to the archbishopric of Santiago—a position he had hoped to obtain for himself.

Now I must return to Rodrigo de Paz and Francisco de las Casas, who were sent to New Spain with the dispatches confirming Cortes’ appointment as governor. They entered Mexico with great splendor, after which there were feasts and celebrations, and messengers were sent to every part of the country where Spaniards lived, to share the good news.

The gentlemen who brought these dispatches, and others who had come from Medellin with them, were not overlooked by Cortes. He appointed Francisco de las Casas a captain, and later granted him the prosperous township of Anguitlan. Rodrigo de Paz was also given expansive and lucrative encomiendas, in addition to being made Cortes’ private secretary and majordomo. This man became so influential that he controlled those around him, including even Cortes himself. Every person who had arrived in New Spain with Rodrigo de Paz on this occasion was well rewarded; even the captain of the ship they sailed on received so much gold from Cortes that he returned to Spain a wealthy man.

I must now answer some questions posed by a few gentlemen who read this account: How, being in the interior of New Spain and occupied with very different matters, could I vouch for the accuracy of what I wrote about the events in Spain—the statement from His Holiness, the accusations brought against Cortes, his defense before the royal commission through our agents, and other affairs?

My answer to them was that, besides myself, all my fellow veteran Conquistadors were thoroughly informed about every circumstance. We had only to read the four or five reports our agents sent us in New Spain to see how strongly they advocated for our interests. However, after reading these dispatches, I could tell they were mainly working for Cortes and themselves. The rest of us, who endured all the hardship and risk to put Cortes in such a high and admired position, would have to labor on for the rest of our days. In spite of this, we must pray to God to remember us with mercy, and to inspire our emperor to reward us according to our merits, which we may rightfully hope for from His Majesty, who is such a good Catholic.

## CHAPTER CLXIX. {.chapter}
*Of Cortes’ plans after he had become governor of New Spain; how he distributed the Indians; and other matters.*

I and others among the veteran Conquistadors, those with experience and merit, always assumed that once Cortes received the appointment as governor of New Spain, he would remember the day he left Cuba, and recall the immense troubles that immediately followed, and that he would remember all those men who, upon landing in New Spain, helped secure his position as captain-general and chief justice. We had never left his side in the later battles and dangers. By heavens! He should never have forgotten a single one of us—we who always stood by him, who worked tirelessly for him on the day some of the troops demanded to return to Vera Cruz, and urged him to abandon his plans for the campaign against Mexico, because of that great state's power and the strength of its capital. We were the same men who marched with him into Mexico City, helped capture the powerful Motecuzoma amidst his warriors, aided Cortes against Narvaez, and then swiftly marched back with him to relieve Alvarado. We fought the brutal battles during the terrible retreat from the city, mourning so many brave companions on that night of sorrows; we won the famed battle on the plains of Otumpan, subdued repeated rebellions in the provinces, conquered all the major towns around the lake, and pacified the country. We rallied to him when Villafaña and others conspired against his life; we endured the unimaginable hardship of the ninety-three-day siege of Mexico, constantly under attack from an enraged enemy, until we secured that strong city for him. We stayed loyal when Christobal de Tapia came to New Spain as governor. We wrote three separate times to His Majesty, praising the great service Cortes had done for the crown, extolling his loyalty, and begging His Majesty to appoint him governor. I won't even go into all the other great services we performed for our general; but certainly, after he became governor, he should have remembered the brave and steadfast men who, even after conquering Mexico, launched arduous campaigns to Colima, Zacatula, Panuco, and those soldiers who, from utter poverty, had to abandon the settlement Alvarado started at Tutepec.

We had been poorly treated in the division of the Indians, receiving miserable districts, even though His Majesty repeatedly commanded Cortes to reward us for our valor and to give us priority. In all his letters to his agents in Spain, Cortes should not have missed the chance to lavish us with praise, and should have worked to secure for us and our children preferential rights to all government appointments in New Spain—but he never gave it a thought. On both occasions, when he was made governor and later when he went to Spain and became Marquis of Oaxaca, he focused only on his own advancement and forgot his loyal companions in arms. Indeed, the most astute and perceptive Conquistadors agreed that nothing would have been fairer or more practical at the time than to divide all New Spain into five equal shares: one fifth, including the best towns, for the crown; another fifth for the churches, hospitals, cloisters, and for gifts from His Majesty to those who distinguished themselves in the Italian campaigns or elsewhere; and the remaining three fifths among all the true Conquistadors, according to their rank and merit, and this in perpetuity. At that time, His Majesty would have approved such a division, since the conquest of New Spain cost the crown nothing, and His Majesty himself had only a vague idea of the country. Besides, at the time His Majesty was still in Flanders and would have been pleased to know the land was in the hands of such loyal and brave subjects.

But none of this ever crossed Cortes’ mind, while our situation steadily worsened; right now, there are even many of us veteran Conquistadors who lack basic necessities! What will become of the children we leave behind? But enough of this; let's now look at how Cortes handed out the towns.

The first to be rewarded by the governor were Francisco de las Casas and Rodrigo de Paz, as well as the royal factor, inspector, and treasurer who had come from Spain with them. Next came a certain Avalos, and a Saavedra, both relatives of Cortes. Following them were Barrios (who married his sister-in-law Doña Xuarez), Alonso Lucas, Juan and Luis de la Torre, Alonso Valiente, and the cross-eyed Ribera. But these are just examples. Anyone who came from Medellin, or won favor with someone influential, and flattered Cortes, was given some of the best land in New Spain. I'm not blaming Cortes for remembering these people—there was plenty for everyone—but he certainly should have prioritized his soldiers, as His Majesty had recommended: those whose efforts put him in power. Whenever there was a campaign or battle, he never forgot where each of us could be found, and we always received orders to join him in battle. But let this be the end of my complaints about the neglect we suffered, as it can't be fixed now.

However, I must mention that Cortes was well aware of the injustice he showed us, and even admitted it. After Luis Ponce de Leon died, and Marcos de Aguilar soon after him—who, as we'll see later, was appointed his successor in government—I, along with several other officers and veteran Conquistadors, called on Cortes and requested, as His Majesty had commanded, that he grant us some of the many Indians he acquired at that time. He replied that we fared no worse than he did himself. "But," he added, "if His Majesty is ever pleased to appoint me governor of New Spain again, on my honor, I will make up for the neglect you have suffered from me, and I will bestow the best encomiendas on those for whom His Majesty intended them. You have my word that I will make good the great mistakes I have made."

With these fine words and pleasant promises, he hoped to appease the old and loyal Conquistadors.

Shortly before Cortes was appointed governor, new crown officials arrived in Mexico: Alonso de Estrada of Ciudad Real, as royal treasurer; Gonzalo de Salazar as factor; Rodrigo de Albornoz, from Paladinos, as accountant (Julian de Alderete having died shortly before); Pedro Almindez Chirinos of Ubeda or Baëza as veedor; along with many others.

Around this time, Rodrigo Rangel, although he hadn't been present at the siege of Mexico nor at many major battles in New Spain, suddenly decided he should gain some glory for himself. He asked Cortes to let him command a small force to suppress the rebellion in the Zapotec towns, and that Pedro de Ircio should accompany the expedition as an adviser. Cortes knew full well what kind of man Rangel was—not suited for any kind of military duty, suffering constantly from poor health. He was gouty, had swollen groins, covered with sores, and so weak he could barely move on his thin, ulcerated legs. So, Cortes refused this unreasonable request, explaining to him how fierce the Zapotecs were, how difficult it was to subdue a people living in foggy mountains, inaccessible to cavalry, where the dangerous, narrow, and slippery paths made marching single-file treacherous. For an expedition like this, Cortes said, only the most skilled and hardy soldiers would do—those who fully understood the art of war. But Rangel was a very stubborn and proud man, from Medellin as well, and pressed so strongly that finally Cortes agreed—but from what we later heard, it seems Cortes just wanted to be rid of him, believing he would not survive this expedition because of his bad disposition. However, that's beside the point. I will instead tell you that Cortes sent letters to twelve of us soldiers settled in Guacasualco, ordering us to join Rangel on this mission. I was among them, and as it happened, all twelve of us were neighbors.

I have already described in a previous chapter how the Zapotecs' country is mountainous; how quick and daring the people are, and how they signal each other with piping, the shrill tones echoing across valleys. In such a place, it's easy to imagine that a man like Rangel, with a force under his command, would not achieve much. Everywhere we went, the people had fled; moreover, their houses weren't clustered together as in other towns, but scattered—some on hills, some in valleys. We arrived just as the rainy season began, and poor Rangel suffered so much from swelling in his groin that he cried out from pain. We were understandably annoyed at losing time for a man like this. However, he soon realized all his effort was pointless and decided to abandon the campaign, allowing the men to return home. Pedro de Ircio, who had come to offer Rangel advice, was the first to recommend this, and left him to return to Vera Cruz, where he had settled. Rangel himself returned with us to Guacasualco, saying the warm climate would be better for his health. We saw this as an even bigger misfortune than going on campaign with him, but we had to make do.

When we got back to Guacasualco, he suddenly wanted to march to Cimatan and Talatupan, to put down the lingering rebellion in those provinces. The locals relied on their strong positions, amid rivers, swamps, and marshy land—all hard to traverse, with every step taking skill—and they were expert archers whose arrows rarely missed.

Not wanting to be questioned, Rangel presented his orders from Cortes, which also commanded him to move against the rebellious Cimatan and Talatupan. As commander-in-chief, he called on all the people of Guacasualco to join the expedition, and we were so afraid of disobeying Cortes that we didn't dare challenge Rangel's authority. More than a hundred of us, with all our horses, about twenty-six musketeers and crossbowmen, marched out with him. We passed through Tonala, Ayagualulco, Copilco, Zacualco, crossed several rivers by canoe, then continued through Teutitan and the towns of Chontalpa, until we were within twenty miles of Cimatan. All was peaceful up to that point, but just ahead the armed forces of the region were waiting for us—strongly posted between swamps and dangerous passes, with ramparts and a palisade. From these, they shot arrows at us through loopholes. When we got close enough, the enemy sent arrows at us so quickly that six of our horses were killed and eight men wounded. Even Rangel, on horseback, was slightly wounded in the arm. We veteran Conquistadors had often warned him about the skill and daring of these warriors, and now he believed it himself. Since he was a man who loved to talk, he said that if he’d listened to our advice, this would not have happened; so, for the remainder of the campaign, he asked us to take over command.

After the wounds of our men and horses were treated, Rangel asked me to scout the enemy's position, taking two of our best musketeers and a fierce dog he had. He himself would, as advised, follow at a distance with the cavalry and the rest of our troops. When my two companions and I approached Cimatan, we found more strong fortifications. From these, we were hit with a volley of arrows and darts. The poor dog was killed instantly, and I would have been too if my jacket, thickly padded with cotton, hadn't protected me—I was wounded in at least seven places, including my leg, while my two companions fared no better. I called to some of our Indian allies nearby to hurry back and bring all the infantry to help, but to tell the cavalry to stay back, since the terrain would prevent their maneuvering and would just expose the horses to the enemy's accurate arrows.

With the musketeers, crossbowmen, and foot soldiers, we pressed the attack and soon forced the enemy from their defenses. They retreated quickly into the swamps, where following them was impossible without great risk—the ground so soggy that stepping in would cause you to sink, making rescue difficult.

By then Rangel had caught up with the horsemen, and we occupied a cluster of deserted houses, where we treated our wounds for the rest of the day. The next morning we pushed on to Cimatan itself, passing over open grasslands with many treacherous bogs. In one such place the enemy ambushed us. They had chosen perfectly, anticipating that during the excitement of battle, the cavalry would charge onto soft ground, becoming trapped. We had warned Rangel about this several times, but he didn't listen; he was the first to get stuck, losing his horse, and would have been killed if several of us hadn't rushed to help him, as Indians had already grabbed him to take him away and sacrifice him to their idols. He narrowly escaped with his life, though his head, already covered with sores, was badly battered by the enemy.

Since the area was densely populated and another town was nearby, we headed there, but the locals fled as we approached. We stopped briefly to tend to Rangel and three other wounded soldiers.

At the next settlement, also deserted, the enemy had built another formidable barricade, a palisade reinforced with loopholes. We had barely rested when the enemy stormed in from all sides and attacked with such boldness that they killed one of our men and two horses, and we could barely drive them off.

Rangel was suffering terribly from his head wounds, tormented by mosquitoes, and by large bats that bit people and sucked their blood—so he couldn't rest. Since it rained nonstop, both he and some of the recently arrived soldiers from Spain grew tired of such warfare. These troops reminded him of his bad health, how little progress we’d made after three battles, and how we’d lost eleven horses and two men, with many more wounded. In such swampy country, it would be impossible to do more. Rangel listened to this with secret pleasure, since retreating was exactly what he wanted. But, to appear blameless, and so that his decision to return to Guacasualco would seem to come from the advice of his men, he called a council of war—choosing only those he knew would agree with him. I and twenty men, who had just returned from a quick foray to some cacao plantations (where we’d managed to capture three women and two men), re-entered camp at this point. When I arrived, Rangel took me aside to discuss his terrible wounds and claimed that most of the troops advised returning to Cortes in Mexico.

I immediately spoke against this idea. Since we’d known each other four years—since before Cuba—I said bluntly, "How, Señor? You’ve reached Cimatan, and now want to retreat? What will Cortes think? What will your enemies say? They'll always claim you weren't able to defeat the Zapotecs or conquer this province, even with the help of some of the most experienced Conquistadors—those from Guacasualco! Your honor is at stake, and so is ours. I, and a number of my companions, have decided to further explore the swamps and mountains and make our way to Cimatan, the chief town of the province. My horse can go to another soldier skilled with the lance; it's of no use to me here, since the ground keeps cavalry in the rear anyway."

Rangel, being hot-tempered and a talker, jumped up and ordered all the troops to assemble. He shouted, "The die is cast! By heavens!" (he could hardly speak a sentence without swearing) "We must press on! I’m convinced after what Bernal Diaz del Castillo has said about our duty—he’s right!"

Many men were anything but happy with this new resolve, but others were glad. So ahead we marched again. I led, with the musketeers and crossbowmen, taking every precaution, cavalry following farther back. The first town was deserted, so we pushed towards Cimatan itself. There the enemy resisted fiercely before we drove them off and took possession. Many of the Indians set their own houses on fire as they fled. We captured about fifteen men and women, but immediately freed them and sent them back with a friendly message, inviting the locals to send ambassadors and make peace with us—we would forgive all past hostilities. These prisoners returned with their families and many poor people, to whom we gave our plunder. Then they left, promising to convince their countrymen to come in peace and become subjects of our emperor. But they never returned, nor sent any message. Rangel turned to me and said, "By heavens, you have tricked me! Now go with some comrades and capture as many Indians as I lost by listening to you." I wasted no time, immediately leading fifty men to attack some scattered houses amid the marshes. The people fled, hiding in the thorn thickets they call Xiguaquetlan, nearly impenetrable without injury; but we caught twelve men and women among the cacao groves, whom we brought to our captain. This cheered him so much he freed the prisoners and sent them with friendly words to the enemy, but it did no good; the Cimatecs continued to defy us, and we were forced to return to Guacasualco, our mission unaccomplished.

These are the two campaigns Rangel led, from which he hoped for so much glory when he begged Cortes for command. Two years later, we launched a much more successful campaign against the Zapotecs and subdued them and other provinces in that area. The devout Father Olmedo also did everything possible to introduce them to the Christian faith: he taught them the articles, preached, and baptized more than a hundred of these Indians; but he couldn't continue for long, as he was growing old and frail, unable to handle the rough terrain.

I must now return to Mexico and relate what magnificent gifts Cortes sent to His Majesty in Spain.

## CHAPTER CLXX. {.chapter}
*How Cortes sent a present to His Majesty: 80,000 pesos in gold and silver, a magnificent field-piece made of gold and silver adorned with beautiful designs, and sent his father Martin Cortes over 5,000 pesos.*

By this time, Cortes had gathered about 80,000 pesos, and the field-piece named Phoenix was finished—a present truly worthy of such a celebrated sovereign as our great emperor. This beautiful cannon, cast in silver, bore this inscription:

No bird like this was ever born, 
As a servant I have no second, 
And you have not your equal in the world.

Cortes decided to send all this treasure to His Majesty in Spain, entrusting it to a nobleman of Toledo named Diego de Soto. Whether Juan de Ribera, the cross-eyed man who had been Cortes’ private secretary, accompanied him, I can't recall precisely; but I know he could not be trusted. I suspected he cheated at cards and dice; he had many other unsavory traits. I only mention this because he behaved so badly to Cortes in Spain—keeping the money meant for Cortes’ father Martin Cortes, and repaying kindness with ingratitude. Not only did he fail to speak well of Cortes, or even tell the truth, he slandered his patron at every turn. Since Ribera was eloquent, and had been Cortes’ secretary, his accusations were readily believed in Spain, especially by the bishop of Burgos. He fanned the flames at a time when Narvaez, Cristobal de Tapia, and Velasquez's agents revived their charges against Cortes, complaining to His Majesty that the commissioners' decision couldn't be trusted, since Cortes had bribed them all with gifts. This brought a serious downturn in Cortes’ fortunes, and he fell so deeply out of favor with His Majesty that things might have ended badly for him, if not for the Duke of Bejar, who was a great friend to Cortes and served as his guarantor until the trial. The duke championed Cortes because marriage arrangements had been made between him and a niece of the duke, Juana de Zuniga, daughter of the Earl of Aguilar Don Carlos de Arellano, who also had a brother highly esteemed by the emperor. Around this time, the 80,000 pesos and the other lavish gifts arrived in Spain, alongside Cortes’ letters thanking His Majesty for the great honors and the just decision in his favor; the investigation against Cortes was abandoned, and the crisis passed. But now, the proud inscription on the silver field-piece again stirred bad feelings. Several dukes, marquises, and earls who had served our emperor considered it outrageously presumptuous for Cortes to use this inscription to exalt himself above all others. Even his greatest supporters—the Admiral of Castile, the Duke of Bejar, the Earl of Aguilar—disapproved of his self-praise. But why, I ask, should anyone call this presumptuous for our general? Can anyone name another general who has accomplished what Cortes has, who has won for our emperor a land as vast as New Spain, or who has converted so many thousands of pagans to Christianity? Though, to be fair, all the merit and glory is not Cortes’ alone, but belongs to his brave companions in arms as well! We have equally earned for ourselves lands and honorable coats of arms, like those heroes of old who were so honored by their monarchs!

Concerning the beautiful field-piece, we were later informed it was presented to His Majesty by Don Francisco de las Cobos, grand commander of Leon, but never left Seville—it was melted down there, and the metal's worth was estimated at 20,000 ducats. This, along with all the gifts Cortes had previously sent to Spain—though some, regrettably, never made it—spread his fame across the empire and throughout Christendom; his name was on everyone's lips. I should also mention that after Martin Cortes unsuccessfully demanded the money from the cross-eyed Ribera, which had been sent by our general, he brought a lawsuit against him; but this ended shortly, as Ribera died on the road to Cadahalso after overeating fat bacon. His death was so sudden he didn't have time to confess his sins; may God have mercy on his soul! Amen!

While all this happened in Spain, Cortes was busy rebuilding Mexico City, sparing no effort to increase its population by encouraging settlers with rewards. To do this, he declared the city exempt from taxes until the construction was finished: repairs to its buildings, causeways, aqueducts, bridges, and the completion of the churches and hospitals, inside and out. He put the excellent Father Olmedo in charge of the hospitals, who had already brought together many sick Indians and cared for them with the deepest affection. Around this time, twelve Franciscan monks also arrived in Vera Cruz from Spain with the devout Father Martin de Valencia, appointed vicar-general of New Spain by the pope. He was born in Valencia de San Juan, in the Campo district, and in the next chapter we'll see how this reverend father was received in Mexico.

## CHAPTER CLXXI. {.chapter}
*How twelve monks of the order of St. Francis, with the vicar-general and father-superior Martin de Valencia, arrive at Vera Cruz, and how they are received by Cortes.*

The reader will remember that I mentioned in an earlier chapter that we asked his imperial majesty to send to New Spain some truly good and devout monks from the Franciscan order, so they could help us convert the Indians to Christianity and preach the doctrine of our holy faith, in which father Olmedo had already made an excellent start. Cortes, along with all of us Conquistadores, had also written to the general of the Franciscan order—who later became Cardinal Francisco de los Angeles—urging him to send us some deeply pious men from his order, so we could fulfill our promise to the Indians. We had often assured them that the emperor would send religious men, who led lives much more godly than ours. We repeated this to the Indians, who then asked us if these men would be as virtuous as father Olmedo, to which we always answered yes.

In response to our request, the general of the Franciscan order sent the twelve monks with their superior, who arrived in Vera Cruz. Among these religious men was father Toribio Motalma, to whom the Mexican caziques and nobles gave the name *Motolinia*, which means *the poor brother*, because he distributed everything he received to the Indians, so much so that he often had nothing left to satisfy his own hunger. He always wore the humblest garments, went barefoot, and was constantly preaching to the Indians, who became very fond of him and considered him a holy man.

When Cortes learned of the arrival of these venerable men in Vera Cruz, he ordered that they be received with the utmost respect in every town they passed through on the way to Mexico, whether it was Indian or Spanish. If they stayed outside any settlement, huts were to be built for them; in every township the bells were to be rung, the people to go out to greet them with crosses, candles, and banners. To instill in the Indians a sense of humility and reverence, the Spaniards were specifically instructed to kneel before the monks and kiss their hands and their cowls.

In addition, Cortes sent refreshments for the monks to every stopping point along their route and wrote them very affectionate letters. When they were close to Mexico, Cortes himself, with father Olmedo and all his officers and men, went out to greet them; so did Quauhtemoctzin, lord of Mexico, with the top nobles and many other caziques from leading towns. As soon as we saw these pious men, Cortes and all of us dismounted and walked to them; our general was the first to kneel before Francisco de Valencia. When he tried to kiss the reverend father's hand, the latter would not allow it, so Cortes kissed his cowl instead.

The meeting between father Olmedo and the new arrivals was extremely affectionate, with heartfelt embraces. We officers and soldiers, along with Quauhtemoctzin and the other caziques, also knelt before them and kissed their garments.

Cortes’ respectful behavior toward these monks made a deep and remarkable impression on the Mexican ruler and the country's other grandees. It set an excellent example for all the Indians, who, seeing the man they almost feared and revered as a god humbling himself before these religious men and standing in their presence with his head uncovered, were amazed. Here were men who walked barefoot, wore ragged garments, looked gaunt and poor, and traveled on foot instead of on horseback; this astonished the Indians, who from then on showed the greatest veneration for them everywhere.

Our respected guests were given a house that had been specially prepared for them, and, at Cortes’ request, father Olmedo acted as their host.

About four years later, twelve other monks of the Dominican order arrived in New Spain with their provincial, or prior, father Thomas Ortiz, a native of Biscay who had previously been prior in a cloister near Punta del Drago. Unfortunately, he and his companions could not endure the hot climate; they all fell ill, and most died. However, I will give more details about these events in their proper place. Later on, several other very pious and outstanding men from the same order came from Spain, especially dedicated to converting the Indians of Guatemala to Christianity.

Even with all this, Cortes was never at ease. He constantly feared that the bishop of Burgos and Diego Velasquez’s agents would renew their complaints against him to his majesty, or harm him in some way or another. Since his father and Diego de Ordas sent him the best news about their progress in arranging the marriage between himself and Doña Juana de Zunniga, he decided it would be wise to send all the gold he could gather to Spain. He meant to prove to the duke of Bejar the wealth he had and the greatness of his conquests, but most of all, to further earn the favor of his majesty and receive greater honors and rewards from him.

## CHAPTER CLXXII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes sends his majesty 30,000 pesos worth of gold, along with a report on the conversion of the Indians, the rebuilding of the city of Mexico, and the expedition of Christobal de Oli to Honduras; also how the ship carrying this gold also took secret letters to Spain, sent by the royal accountant Rodrigo de Albornoz, in which Cortes and the veteran Conquistadores were slandered in the vilest terms.*

After Cortes was appointed governor of New Spain, he felt responsible for giving his majesty a detailed report of events in the country: the conversion of the Indians, the rebuilding of Tenochtitlan-Mexico, and other key developments. He first described the expedition to Honduras and was very explicit about the great expenses it required. He stated he had made Christobal de Oli commander of this force, but that Oli had allowed himself to be bribed by Diego Velasquez, joined forces with him, and stopped obeying Cortes.

Our general went on to tell his majesty that he was prepared, if his majesty so wished, to send another officer to Honduras to relieve Oli of command and place him in chains. If he resisted, Cortes said he himself would march against him. Cortes argued that harsh punishment was needed as an example to any other officers sent to conquer new provinces to keep them from copying Oli. Therefore, he earnestly requested his majesty’s permission to move against this officer.

In these dispatches, Cortes leveled even more serious accusations against Diego Velasquez, not only for bribing Oli to rebel, but for causing many plots against his own life during campaigns in rebellious provinces, and generally for trying to disrupt the peace of the country—forcing him to punish the main offenders very severely. He added that he could have sent his majesty much more than 30,000 pesos at that time if it had not been for the constant unrest stirred up by his enemies, which created many obstacles and hindered his work. He closed by assuring his majesty he would seize every opportunity to send as much gold as possible to Spain.

Cortes also wrote to Diego de Ordas, his father, and his relation, the licentiate Francisco Nuñez (reporter to the royal council), giving them a full account of Rodrigo de Albornoz’s conduct—how this man secretly slandered him in Mexico, because Cortes had not given him as many Indians as he wanted, and had refused to offer him the daughter of the king of Tezcuco in marriage, since he had promised her to a nobleman; besides, Cortes had learned that Albornoz was once secretary to the bishop of Burgos in Flanders, and a trusted follower of the prelate. Albornoz kept up secret correspondence by coded messages and, Cortes suspected, had just written in secret to his patron the bishop, slandering him as much as possible. He therefore warned his friends to be vigilant and watch out for his interests, since he suspected the bishop was still president of the Council of the Indies.

Because of these concerns, Cortes sent duplicate copies of all his reports, so that if one set was seized at Seville by the bishop’s people, the other set might still reach its destination safely.

As it turned out, accountant Albornoz had indeed sent letters by the same ship to his majesty, to the bishop of Burgos, and to the Royal Council of the Indies, repeating all the previous accusations against our general and adding several new ones. Among other things, he told his majesty that Cortes forced large amounts of gold from the caziques, supposedly to send to the king, causing much widespread resentment. He claimed that Cortes gathered many of the leading women of the country to marry them to Spanish soldiers; but when honorable men asked to marry them, he would refuse, keeping the women for himself as mistresses. The caziques generally saw him as their king; in fact, they knew no king but Cortes, who took a fifth of all the country’s revenue for himself, equal to what was sent to the emperor, and had accumulated immense treasures. Yet he was so cunning that no one could guess his real motives. Cortes was building large fortresses and might be planning to declare independence from Spain and turn traitor. In any case, Albornoz insisted, the time had come for his majesty to intervene and send a high-ranking person to New Spain to deprive Cortes of his command and all his authority.

Albornoz attacked Cortes in many other ways, and the bishop of Burgos decided to use these claims. Narvaez, Tapia, and Velasquez's agents still pressed their case at court, and the bishop encouraged them to renew their complaints, strengthening them with the information just received from Albornoz.

Once his majesty read these serious charges against our general, he took them all as true and said to Narvaez, the group's spokesman: “I am now determined that Cortes shall be punished! Even if he sends me a fortune in gold, the charges against him are becoming too frequent, and I value justice above all the treasures he can send me.”

The emperor did not take long to act on these threats. He ordered the admiral of St. Domingo to go to Mexico at the head of 600 men, to arrest Cortes, and if found guilty, to execute him without ceremony, and punish all those who helped defeat Narvaez. To encourage the admiral to carry out these commands, the emperor even promised to make him admiral of New Spain.

The admiral received these orders, but whether due to lack of funds to mount a sufficiently large expedition, or because he considered it too risky, he kept postponing any action. His friends warned him about Cortes’ success in battle—how, with only a handful of men, he had defeated Narvaez’s much larger force. They also told him that he would not find Cortes or his companions guilty of any crime, but completely loyal and dedicated servants of his majesty. It was also pointed out to the emperor that the position of admiral of New Spain was a very distinguished one, and perhaps too great a reward for such an expedition.

Meanwhile, while the admiral of St. Domingo was preparing this expedition, Cortes’ agents, his father Martin Cortes and father Melgarejo de Urrea, found out all that was going on, and they no longer doubted, especially from the letters from Cortes himself, that Albornoz or other enemies had been plotting against Cortes at court. These gentlemen went to the duke of Bejar, informed him fully of all the details, and showed him Cortes’ own letters. Since the situation seemed so dangerous and called for immediate action, the duke went straight to his majesty, bringing several distinguished relatives as well as Martin Cortes and father Melgarejo. After showing all proper respect to their sovereign, the duke humbly asked his majesty not to believe what accountant Albornoz might say, since he was clearly Cortes’ enemy, and to call back the orders given to the admiral of St. Domingo—unless accusations from less biased witnesses than Albornoz appeared. The duke pointed out that since his majesty loved justice above all, it was important to proceed very carefully before acting against Cortes and his men, who had rendered such singular service to their monarch, unmatched in history. He stated that he continued to have full confidence in Cortes’ loyalty, and as before, he was willing to vouch for Cortes with his own life and risk all his possessions. After declaring this, the duke shared with the emperor the letters Cortes had written to his own father explaining Albornoz’s animosity. He reminded his majesty of the vast amounts of gold Cortes had sent to Spain, of his great and many services to the crown, and put forward strong defenses of Cortes’ conduct. The emperor was so convinced by the duke’s sound arguments that he decided to send a man of high stature, outstanding integrity, and spotless character to New Spain to thoroughly investigate the matter on the spot.

The imperial court was then in Toledo, where a gentleman and licentiate, Luis Ponce de Leon—a cousin to the corregidor, Earl Don Martin de Cordoba—was the vice-regidor. His majesty chose this man, and Ponce de Leon received the commission to go at once to New Spain, there to make the strictest inquiries into the accusations against Cortes, and if he found him guilty, to punish him to the full extent of the law.

Licentiate Luis Ponce de Leon promised his majesty to do everything in his power to uncover the truth and prepared for his journey to the New World. However, he did not leave Spain for another two and a half years, so I will return to this matter later. Nor did we hear anything from Cortes’ father about what happened in Spain until after that period had passed. Meanwhile, Albornoz kept sending his slanders to the emperor, not even sparing the viceroy, Don Antonio de Mendoza, a man of the highest character and of everlasting regard. No matter how blameless and just Mendoza’s government was, Albornoz still slandered him to the emperor—simply out of personal enmity. Later, all of Albornoz's charges against Cortes came to this excellent viceroy’s attention, but Mendoza merely summoned Albornoz, showed him the slanderous letters, and with his usual calm and mildness said: “Since you are so accustomed to writing to his majesty, do not write lies, and thus recklessly bring ruin on others!” As can be imagined, Albornoz stood thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed.

I must now relate how Cortes, who at that time knew nothing of the secret intrigues against him at court, sent an expedition against Christobal de Oli.

## CHAPTER CLXXIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortés sent a captain named Francisco de las Casas against Cristóbal de Olid, after receiving news that this officer had joined forces with Diego Velásquez and had renounced all further obedience to him.*

To make this chapter fully understandable, I must refer back to earlier events. I have previously mentioned that Cortés organized an expedition to Honduras and Higueras, which he put under the command of Cristóbal de Olid. It was not long before our general heard of the unfortunate outcome of this expedition, as far as it concerned himself. When he learned that Olid had allied himself with Diego Velásquez and had decided to act independently, Cortés became deeply troubled. But as he was strong-willed, and did not take such matters lightly, he immediately decided either to march against Olid himself or send a trusted officer instead, as he had previously committed to do in the name of his majesty.

Around this time, a gentleman named Francisco de las Casas arrived in Mexico. As a relative and a man he could trust, Cortés decided to send him against Olid. He prepared a small fleet of five ships, well equipped with cannons and ammunition. On these ships he placed one hundred men, including several veteran Conquistadors—such as Pedro Moreno Medrano, Juan Núñez de Mercado, Juan Vello, and many others, whose names I will overlook, since they died during the expedition.

Cortés gave Francisco de las Casas full authority to seize Olid and put him in chains. Las Casas set sail from Veracruz in fine weather, and soon arrived at the bay of Triunfo de la Cruz, where Olid had founded a town with the same name and where his ships lay at anchor. When Las Casas entered the bay under a white flag, Olid was unsure of his intentions, but decided to be cautious. He sent out two of his smaller, well-armed vessels with a strong force to block Las Casas from entering the harbor and landing his men, although he didn't yet know who the newcomers were. Las Casas, being a man of courage and resolve, lowered his boats immediately, armed them with a falconet, and sent the most active of his men, well equipped with muskets and crossbows, determined, as he said, to land by any means necessary. A fierce battle broke out, during which Las Casas drove one of Olid’s vessels aground, killed four of his men, and wounded several others.

Seeing the situation was getting out of hand, Cristóbal de Olid thought it wise to call a halt to the fighting to buy time to rally all his troops. A few days earlier, he had sent two companies to the river Pechín against Gil González de Ávila, who had begun to conquer that region. Olid sent word to Las Casas expressing his desire to negotiate peace, and Las Casas agreed to a ceasefire for the time being, staying at sea for the night, intending to find another bay to land in. It would have been far better for him had he acted on a letter secretly handed to him during the fighting. In the letter, some of Olid’s men who supported Cortés urged Las Casas to land immediately; they promised they would all side with him and deliver Olid to him as a prisoner. However, fate intervened: that night a violent north wind—the most dangerous on this coast—arose, wrecking the entire fleet. Thirty of his men drowned and all their arms and supplies were lost. Las Casas and the survivors wandered the countryside for two days, soaked, cold, and starving, before they were captured by Olid’s troops.

It is easy to imagine how pleased Cristóbal de Olid was at this unexpected turn of events, delighted to have Las Casas in his power. He at once enlisted the surviving troops into his service, forcing them to take a solemn oath never to desert him and to resist Cortés if he came against him. Only after this oath did he set them free, keeping Las Casas alone as his prisoner.

Soon after, the detachment that had gone against Gil González de Ávila returned. Gil González had come appointed as governor of Golfo Dulce and had already founded a town called San Gil de Buena Vista, about four miles from the bay of the same name. The area near the river Chipín was inhabited by a warlike people, and, as most of Gil González’s men were sick, he could only leave a weak garrison in Buena Vista. Olid, being informed of this, ordered an attack on the town; but capturing it was harder than expected. Ávila’s few men resisted fiercely, and eight soldiers, along with his cousin, were killed. Olid, proud to have captured the chief commanders of two expeditions, and justly known as an excellent soldier, wanted news of his success to spread across the islands and immediately sent word of his good fortune to the governor of Cuba.

After this victory, he led his men inland to a large township called Naco, located in a densely populated area. On this campaign, Naco was completely destroyed and the surrounding region devastated. I state this as an eyewitness, since I later visited these lands myself while accompanying Cortés to Honduras, which I’ll discuss in detail at the appropriate point.

From Naco, Olid sent out a strong foraging party under Briones, who was among the first to encourage Olid’s break from Cortés. Briones was hot-tempered, unruly, and had only half his ears left—he said the rest were cut off by the enemy while he stubbornly defended a fort with some officers. His end was tragic: he was later executed in Guatemala for inciting mutiny. Not long after Briones was deployed with a good number of men to a distant area, news came that he had deserted with all his soldiers and was marching toward New Spain. This shocking report proved entirely accurate.

This development gave Las Casas and Ávila an excellent chance to free themselves from Olid, who, though they were prisoners of war, let them move about freely, believing he had nothing to fear from them. All Cortés’s supporters joined Las Casas and Ávila in secret, and together they agreed on a signal to attack Olid with the cry, “In the name of the emperor and of Cortés, down with the tyrant!” The plot was set, and on one occasion Las Casas said to Olid, “Señor Captain, grant me my liberty and allow me to return to New Spain, so I can report the misfortunes of this expedition to Cortés. I give you my word I will mediate and secure for you both the government and chief military command of this land, and will personally see the official paperwork drawn up. What good does it do you to keep me here as a prisoner? I’m only in your way.”

Olid replied, “I’m perfectly satisfied with things as they are, and am glad to have a man of your worth with me.”

“But at least, then,” Las Casas continued, “think of your personal safety—I might someday decide to kill you myself!”

Las Casas said this jokingly, and Olid paid it no mind, remaining as relaxed as ever.

One evening, Las Casas, Ávila, Juan Núñez de Mercado, and other Cortés loyalists were invited to dine with Olid. Las Casas and Ávila, as prisoners, were forbidden to carry arms, but had hidden large, sharply ground knives on them. As the party, having removed their cloaks, gathered around Olid and discussed Cortés’ successes in Mexico, Olid was completely off his guard. Suddenly, Las Casas grabbed Olid’s beard and stabbed his neck with the knife. The other conspirators joined in, stabbing him repeatedly until he hit the floor—but, being tremendously strong, Olid recovered consciousness while the plotters ate, and managed to rise, shouting, “*My friends, help your captain!*” He rushed out to hide in the woods, trying to rally his men. Many of his troops assembled at once, but Las Casas shouted, “In the name of the emperor and of Cortés, attack the tyrant! His tyranny is no longer to be endured!”

At the mention of these names, no one dared defend Olid. Instead, everyone submitted and quickly followed Las Casas’s commands to search for Olid and bring him in as a prisoner. Las Casas declared that anyone who knew where Olid hid and did not report it would be put to death.

It was soon discovered where Olid was hiding. After he was captured, a formal criminal trial was held, and he was sentenced to death and beheaded by order of Las Casas and Ávila in the marketplace at Naco.

Thus ended Cristóbal de Olid’s life, owing to following the advice of bad men and forgetting his great debt to Cortés, who had appointed him quartermaster-general and rewarded him with profitable commanderies. Olid had always shown great bravery and had recently married a Portuguese lady, Filipa de Araujo, who bore him a daughter.

After ridding themselves of their adversary, Las Casas and Ávila brought the troops together, split the command between them, and worked in harmony. Las Casas soon founded Truxillo, named after his hometown in Estremadura; Ávila sent a small detachment under Armenta to Buena Vista to check the colony’s condition, instructing him to make no changes if all was in order, and to wait for his return from New Spain, where he would go to request more troops from Cortés. Las Casas also decided to accompany Ávila to Mexico, so they could both report all these events to Cortés together.

I must end this chapter here, as I will return to these events later in my history. I only note that Cortés did not learn of these incidents until significantly later.

## CHAPTER CLXXIV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes personally leads his troops to Honduras in search of Christobal de Oli; about the officers and men he selected for this mission, and other related matters.*

Several months had now passed since Las Casas had left with the fleet, and Cortes still had no news from him. He began to worry that something bad had happened. The more he thought about the many dangers ships face, and the unpredictable fortunes that come with such expeditions, the more he regretted—despite his confidence in Las Casas—not going himself to lead the mission. Additionally, the reports he had received about rich gold mines along the Honduran coast finally convinced Cortes to march there himself at the head of his troops.

His first priority was to ensure that the fortifications of Mexico were well supplied with cannons, and that plenty of ammunition was stored in the arsenals to protect the city. During his absence, he entrusted the government of New Spain to the treasurer Alonso de Estrada and to the accountant Albornoz. How he could have chosen the latter is beyond my understanding; certainly, if he had known how shamefully Albornoz had slandered him to the emperor, he would never have done so.

The licentiate Zuazo, who has often been mentioned in this history, was appointed alcalde-mayor of Mexico, and the entire management of Cortes’s private property was given to his relative Rodrigo de Paz.

Once all arrangements were made for the government and security of Mexico, he especially instructed the crown officers he appointed, along with the Franciscan friar Toribio Motolinia and the excellent father Olmedo—who was held in the highest regard and wielded great influence among all classes—to work together harmoniously. Their duty was not only to assist each other in converting the Indians but also to maintain peace and good order throughout the provinces and the city. To prevent any leaders of influence among the potentially rebellious Indian population in the city and provinces from instigating a revolt during his absence, he brought along Quauhtemoctzin, the king of Tlacupa, and several other distinguished caziques of the region, with the chief of Tapiezuela ranking highest. He also sent a message to the caziques of Mechoacan, asking them to join his army.

Since Geronimo de Aguilar had died earlier, only Doña Marina went with him as his interpreter. The principal officers and cavaliers accompanying him formed an impressive group; I will mention only a few: Sandoval, Luis Marin, Francisco Marmolejo, Gonzalo Rodriguez de Ocampo, Pedro de Ircio, the brothers Avalos and Saavedra, Palacios Rubios, Pedro de Sauzedo, Geronimo Ruiz de la Mota, Alonso de Grado, Sante Cruz Burgales, Pedro de Solis, Juan Xaramillo, Alonso Valiente, Navarrete, and Serna. Also, Diego de Mazariegos, cousin to the treasurer Gil Gonsalez de Benavides, Herman Lopez de Avila, Gaspar Garnica, and several others whose names I have forgotten. The priests who joined were Father Juan de las Varillas from Salamanca, and two Flemish monks known for their profound theology and frequent preaching. There was another priest as well, whose name escapes me. From his household, Cortes selected his major-domo Carranza, his chief waiters Juan de Jasso and Rodrigo Mañeco, his butler Cervan Bejarano, and two kitchen stewards, San Miguel and Guinea.

Since Cortes brought with him a great amount of gold and silver plate and ornaments, he put Tello from Medina and a man named Salazar from Madrid in charge of these valuables. For a physician, he had the licentiate Pedro de Lopez from Mexico, and for a surgeon, Diego de Pedraza. He was also followed by several pages, including Don Francisco de Montejo, who would later become commander in Yucatan and was the son of the well-known Montejo, adelantado of that province. There were two pages appointed as his lance-bearers; his chief equerry Gonzalo Rodriguez de Ocampo and a number of grooms; three Spanish mule-drivers; two falconers, Garci Caro and Alvaro Montanes; musicians on the sackbut, clarion, and dulcimer; a buffoon and a juggler who also performed puppet shows. Additionally, he brought along a large herd of swine so the troops could have fresh meat during the march. Besides the Indians who accompanied the various caziques, a body of 3,000 Mexican warriors joined the expedition.

Just as Cortes was about to leave Mexico, the factor Salazar and the veedor Chirinos—both offended that they had not been given any special roles during his absence—urged the licentiate Zuazo, Rodrigo de Paz, and all the veteran conquerors and Cortes’s closest friends who were staying in the city to strongly advise him not to leave, or to trust the government to others, asserting that all New Spain would certainly rise in revolt if he left. These arguments led to much debate between the two sides; but since Cortes stuck to his decision, the factor and veedor begged him at least to let them accompany him as far as Guacasualco, which was on his route, and allow them to serve in that capacity.

Cortes departed from Mexico\[45\*\] at the head of his army, taking the road toward the province just mentioned. The splendor with which he was greeted in every town along the way, and the festivals held in his honor, were truly remarkable. On the march, he was joined by fifty more men who had only recently arrived from Spain—all lively, extravagant young fellows.

To ensure that his troops did not suffer delays from lack of provisions, he divided his army into two divisions, which took separate routes to Guacasualco, making it easier to obtain supplies. Closest to him were Sandoval, the factor, and the veedor, each vying to show attentiveness. Yet none could match the factor, who would always bow deeply, his head uncovered whenever he addressed Cortes, and at every opportunity would use the most flattering expressions and all his rhetorical skill to try to persuade him to abandon the dangerous, difficult expedition, listing the risks and minimal gain. He would often sing as he rode beside Cortes:

Turn back, dear uncle, turn back; 
Dear uncle, turn back!

To which Cortes would reply, also in a singing tone:

Forward, nephew; forward, nephew; 
Let not omens dishearten you; 
The will of God it must be done; 
Forward, nephew; forward, nephew!

When the division led by Cortes neared Orizaba, which belonged to the squinting Ojedo, Doña Marina married Juan Xaramillo, and the wedding was solemnly conducted in the presence of witnesses.

The army continued toward the large township of Guazaltepec, which belonged to Sandoval's commendary. From there, news reached us in Guacasualco of Cortes's approach. All of us officers and notable people in town, together with the alcaldes, regidors, and chief officials, marched out and traveled nearly 132 miles into the countryside to meet our general. We did so with as much enthusiasm as if we each expected to receive a great benefit, a detail I include to show the reader how much Cortes was feared and respected. He was always pleased by such displays of respect and could never be shown too much attention.

From Guazaltepec the army marched onward to Guacasualco and had to cross a very wide and swift river. Here the first bad omen occurred; three canoes carrying sums of money and other goods capsized, and everything aboard sank. On this occasion, Juan Xaramillo lost half his baggage, and it was impossible to recover anything that drifted downstream because of the many enormous alligators in the river.

From there, Cortes marched through the towns of Uluta to the wide river of Guacasualco, where preparations had been made for the crossing—many canoes were lashed together in pairs. In Guacasualco itself triumphal arches were raised, and every effort was made to welcome our general as grandly as possible. There were mock battles between Christians and Moors, elaborate fireworks at night, and numerous other celebrations.

Cortes remained in Guacasualco for six days, during which the veedor and factor continually urged him to cancel the expedition and return to Mexico. They reminded him of the men to whom he had confided the government, insisting that the accountant Albornoz was restless, fond of innovation, and not to be trusted, and that the treasurer openly boasted of being a son of his Catholic Majesty, so neither was reliable. From the moment Cortes had entrusted them with the government, they had been plotting some secret scheme. They also reminded Cortes of letters he had received during his march from Mexico, reporting that the two appointees were already speaking ill of his administration. The veedor and factor spoke with great eloquence and flattery of their own devotion to Cortes, and how much better suited they themselves were for government. In the end, they actually persuaded him to give them equal authority, and even to take charge alone if they saw Albornoz or Estrada acting against the interests of the king.

This power that Cortes granted to the veedor and factor led to many troubles, including the major insurrection that soon broke out in Mexico, which I will fully describe in a later chapter after our army finally reaches the town of Truxillo, following a long and exhausting march. I must point out here that Father Olmedo and the Franciscan monks who accompanied us did not hesitate to tell Cortes how strongly they disapproved of this decision, and prayed he would not live to regret it; their fears would soon be proved correct. Cortes, however, paid little attention to their words, except those of Father Olmedo, whose advice he valued above all.

When the factor and veedor took leave of Cortes to return to Mexico, it was almost comical to see how deeply they bowed and to hear the compliments they offered. The factor, especially, sighed so much it seemed as if he would burst into tears when he took leave and received the formal document of their new authority, drawn up by his close friend, the secretary Alonso Valiente. The two now set off for Mexico, accompanied by Hernan Lopez de Avila, who was suffering from severe joint pain and swelling in his groin, barely able to walk.

Let us wish them a safe journey, as we begin to focus on our own difficult march, during which we endured such hardships that it was remarkable any of us survived to tell the tale.

## CHAPTER CLXXV. {.chapter}
*How we begin our march from Guacasualco, and the terrible hardships and difficulties we endured for two years and three months.*

The first thing Cortes did, after sending the veedor and factor to Mexico, was to write to his major-domo, Simon de Cuenca, at Vera Cruz. He ordered him to load two small vessels with maize biscuits, six pipes of wine, oil, vinegar, smoked pork, and other provisions, along with a good supply of horseshoes. Cuenca was to take charge of these vessels himself and follow the coast, awaiting further instructions on where to dock.

The next thing Cortes did was to order all the Spanish settlers at Guacasualco, except those who were ill, to join him on this expedition. As I mentioned in a previous chapter, the first Spanish colonists of Guacasualco were all among the earliest Conquistadors of New Spain, and most came from noble families. We had hoped to finally enjoy some rest, and to recover from our previous hardships, as we had just started to cultivate our land productively. But now, we received Cortes’ orders to accompany him on an expedition of over 2,000 miles from Guacasualco, through entirely hostile territory—an undertaking that lasted two years and three months, during which we lost everything we brought with us! Not one of us had the courage to say no, and even if anyone did, it would have been useless, for he would have been forced to go anyway. So we equipped ourselves as best we could, prepared our horses, and patiently waited for the general’s orders to set out.

Cortes’ entire force, including those from Guacasualco, numbered over 250 infantry, besides the musketeers and crossbowmen, 130 cavalry, and several men recently arrived from Spain. Before leaving Guacasualco, Cortes gave me command of a detachment of 30 Spaniards and 3,000 Mexicans, with orders to march against the Cimatans and bring them into submission, since they still stubbornly refused to yield to us. The 3,000 Mexicans were to be distributed among the local villages. I was instructed to use no violence if the inhabitants submitted peacefully and swore allegiance to our emperor; I was to demand nothing from them beyond provisions for the troops. If they kept resisting, I was to summon them three times to submit, in a manner they could understand and in the presence of a notary and witnesses. If they still refused after the third summons, I was to attack without delay.

I still have the written order containing these instructions, signed by Cortes himself and countersigned by his secretary, Alonso Valiente.

I followed these commands exactly and was able to bring peace to the entire province—but only briefly. After we left, when the Indians heard that very few Spaniards had stayed behind in Guacasualco and that all the veteran Conquistadors had marched out with Cortes, they revolted again a few months later.

As soon as I had pacified the province of Cimatan, I rejoined the main body under Cortes, catching up near Iquinupa. Our general had marched from Guacasualco to Tonala, about thirty-two miles; crossed a river using canoes, and then reached the township of Ayagualulco. From there the march continued another twenty-eight miles to an arm of the sea, over which Cortes built a bridge that was quite remarkable—half a mile long. During this journey, two of our Guacasualco officers had to ride well ahead of the army. One of these captains was Francisco de Medina, a peaceful man who best understood how to deal with the locals.

After crossing the estuary, we passed several small villages before reaching the immense river Mazapa, which flows from Chiapa and is known to sailors as the *Rio de dos bocas*. There were many canoes ready, tied together in pairs to ferry us safely across the river. We went on through more villages, building bridges over another estuary and river before reaching the large township of Copilco, which marks the start of the densely populated province of Chontalpa. At that time, the country was peaceful and covered in cacao plantations. From Copilco we continued through Nacanuxuica to Zaqutan, crossing another river in canoes. When we reached this village, the inhabitants seemed friendly, but by night they had all fled to the far side of a broad river, hiding among the swamps. Cortes then ordered us to track them over the mountains, which was a rash decision and ultimately served no purpose.

It was only with extreme effort and hardship that we got across the wide river, capturing only seven Indian chiefs and a few commoners; but they soon escaped, and we ended up with no guide for our march.

While we were staying there, the main chieftains of Tabasco arrived with fifty canoes, loaded with maize and other provisions. Some people from the Teapan villages—then under my command—also came, bringing several canoes full of supplies.

Our next march took us through Tepetitan and Iztapa. On the way we had to cross the deep river Chilapa, and spent four days building boats to safely transport the army. I knew of a village farther upriver, also called Chilapa, so I proposed to Cortes that we send five of our Indian guides to ask the inhabitants to bring their canoes. Cortes agreed, sending one of our men with the Indians, who succeeded in bringing back two chief men and six large canoes full of food. With these and our own boats, all the troops crossed safely, though it cost us four whole days.

We reached Tepetitan, whose inhabitants had abandoned it and whose houses had all been burned. We learned that the villagers had been at war with nearby settlements, had been defeated and their town destroyed, with many taken prisoner.

For the three days after leaving the Chilapa river, our route passed through continuous bogs, where our horses often sank up to their girths. The next village was Iztapa, but we found it empty—the people had fled across a swift river. We pursued them and soon found their chiefs and a number of villagers. Cortes, through Doña Marina, spoke kindly to them and returned to their families four women and three men we had captured in the mountains. Grateful for this, and to show their friendship, these people gave our general several gold ornaments, although the gold was of poor quality. We stayed here three days because of the abundant corn and good pasture for our horses. Cortes thought this would be an excellent location for a colony, with many wealthy villages nearby and a constant supply of necessities. Here, Cortes also made detailed inquiries of local chiefs and merchants about the route ahead. He showed them a piece of nequen cloth he had brought from Guacasualco, marked with all the villages we needed to pass through to reach Huyacala. That place was called Great Acala to distinguish it from Little Acala. They told us that much of the route ahead was through river country and crossed by many arms of the sea. Even just up to Tamaztepec, three days’ march away, we would have to cross three rivers and a broad estuary.

Based on this information, Cortes asked the chiefs to supply us with canoes and help us build bridges. They agreed, but didn’t keep their word. We trusted them and only took food for three days. It turned out, though, that the journey took us seven days, not three, to reach Tamaztepec, and at none of the rivers did we find any canoes or bridges—the Indians had deceived us completely. We had to build our own bridges strong enough for the horses. Everyone, officers and soldiers alike, worked hard felling trees and dragging them to the river. The Mexican warriors helped a great deal. It took us three days to build one bridge, during which we survived on nothing but grass and a wild root called quecuenque, which burned our lips and mouths. After we crossed the wide estuary with great difficulty, we found our way almost blocked by dense thickets and woods, so we had to cut a path with our swords. We pressed forward, hoping to reach a village. One morning, as we marched on laboriously, Cortes finally saw just how miserable our situation was. He heard the men grumbling and cursing the whole expedition and complaining loudly about the hunger, saying he should go back to Mexico unless he wanted to starve us all. To this misery was added the sight of huge mountains ahead, nearly hiding the sky. Some of us climbed the highest trees, but could see only mountains stretching away in every direction. Two of our Indian guides had slipped away, and the third was so sick and confused that he couldn’t direct us. But since Cortes was never one to shrink from trouble, and was always resourceful, he called the pilot Pedro Lopez and asked for the compass. Cortes placed it on our nequen-cloth map and asked Lopez which way we should go to reach the nearest town. Following Lopez’s advice, we began cutting our way eastward through the woods and up the mountains. Even our general said he didn’t know what to do if we didn’t find a village by the next day.

Though we all would have gladly gone back to New Spain, hope kept us going, and soon, by God’s grace, we came to a freshly cut tree, and a little further on, to a small path. Pedro Lopez and I, scouting ahead with several others, hurried back to report this to Cortes and promised him that a habitation must be nearby. The general and all the men were overjoyed. Though we had to cross a river and several marshes, we pushed through and reached a village that the people had abandoned, but they left plenty of maize, beans, and other vegetables, which were all the more delicious to us because we were starving. Our horses recovered their strength, and we gave thanks to God for His mercy. On that last march Cortes’ jester and three newly arrived soldiers died from exhaustion. Many Mechoacan and Mexican Indians perished, and many others, unable to go on, fell sick and collapsed on the road.

Since the village was deserted and we had no guide, Cortes sent me and another captain into the mountains to search for villages. Others crossed the big river nearby in canoes they found, and soon caught up with some inhabitants—thirty of them, mostly chiefs and priests—who, persuaded by kindness and promises, agreed to come to Cortes. With help from Doña Marina, he spoke kindly, and they brought us more chickens and maize. They then showed us the route to the next village, called Izguatepec, three days (or sixty-four miles) away, but with one smaller village along the way that was dependent on Tamaztepec, where we now were.

Before describing the next stage of our march, I must mention an appalling event. A few Mexican chiefs, unable to bear starvation any longer, had hidden two or three Indians from earlier villages among their baggage. As we marched, they killed these poor wretches and baked them as in their homeland, between heated stones underground, then ate their flesh. We learned later that our two missing guides had been treated the same way. When Cortes heard about this horrifying crime, he summoned the chiefs, reprimanded them, and threatened severe punishment if they did it again. A Franciscan friar preached a sermon on the subject, speaking many holy and instructive words. To prevent a repeat, one chief was sentenced to be burned at the stake.

I won’t go into more details of all the hardships we suffered. Our suffering was so great that even the sackbut, clarion, and dulcimer players, who were only supposed to ease our journey with music, fell ill from hunger and stopped playing.

Only one managed to force out a tune now and then, but we all got so tired of his wheezing and puffing, we said his music sounded like the howling of foxes and wolves. We would have much preferred a handful of maize to satisfy our hunger rather than all his music.

Several people who have read this history ask why we did not kill the herd of swine that Cortes brought along. “After all,” they say, “necessity overrides the law, and surely Cortes would have given the meat to the troops.” I replied that Cortes’ chief butler, Guinea—a man of questionable character—claimed the pigs had all been eaten by alligators and sharks while crossing the rivers. In any case, to ensure we never saw these swine, they were kept about four days’ journey behind us; although, I must admit, the whole herd together wouldn’t have fed our large force for even a day. Nobody ever suggested killing them for fear of angering Cortes.

In every village we passed, and wherever we found suitable trees—especially the ceiba tree—we carved a cross into the bark. These were more durable than wooden crosses stuck in the ground, since the marks stand out more as the tree grows. We also attached scraps of paper to them, with messages reading: *Cortes passed this way on such-and-such a day*, for the information of anyone sent after us. On our march to Ciguatepec, we were joined by more than twenty Indians from Tamaztepec to help us ferry across rivers in their canoes. Some would also go ahead to warn people in the next villages of our peaceful intentions. Thanks to this, those who might otherwise have fled at our approach now calmly awaited us, with no sign of fear.

## CHAPTER CLXXVI. {.chapter}
*How Cortes, upon our arrival at Ciguatepec, sends Francisco de Medina in search of Simon de Cuenca, with orders for the latter to bring the two vessels to Triunfo de la Cruz; and what else took place.*

Cortes’ first priority upon our arrival in Ciguatepec was to win the friendship of the caziques and other notable people of the town. To do this, he presented them with several Mexican chalchihuis stones. In return, these people told him about a very large river not far from their town, which emptied into a branch of the sea near the town of Gueyatasta, close to the larger town called Xicalango. From Ciguatepec, Cortes considered it best to send someone to the north coast to search for the two ships under Simon de Cuenca. After asking detailed questions about the route they should take, he sent two Spaniards on this mission, with Francisco de Medina as the principal, a man known for his energy and promptness in all he undertook. This is the same officer who caused an uprising in Chamula during our expedition under Luis Marin against Chiapa, as mentioned earlier.

Cortes granted him authority to share command with Cuenca, but as you will see, it would have been better if he had not done so. Medina sailed down the river and found Cuenca at anchor with his ships in front of Xicalango, awaiting further orders from Cortes, as previously instructed. As soon as Medina boarded, he produced his authority from our general regarding command, which led to a fierce argument between the two parties. This escalated into a bloody conflict involving the crews, in which they showed no mercy and killed each other, leaving only seven survivors. Yet the misfortune did not end there: when the Indians of Xicalango and Gueyatasta saw that the Spaniards were fighting among themselves and had weakened their forces, they suddenly attacked the survivors, killed them, and then set fire to the ships. We did not hear of all this until two and a half years later.

The caziques of Ciguatepec informed us we were still three days’ journey from Gueyacala and would need to cross two rivers—one of which was extremely deep and wide. Beyond that, we would have to travel through a large moorland full of dangerous bogs, and they assured us it would be impossible to cross the rivers without canoes. Cortes therefore sent two Spaniards with three important Indians ahead to bring back an accurate account of the rivers and marshes and to find out the best way to cross them. The two soldiers chosen for this mission were Pedro de Ribera and Martin Garcia of Valencia, who was our army’s alguacil and someone in whom our general had the utmost trust. They left on their task, explored the rivers in small canoes, and concluded that the only way to cross the first would be by building bridges; as for the marshes, which were another four miles ahead, they had not even considered them and only reported back about the challenge of building bridges over the water. Cortes then sent for myself and Gonsalo Mexia, instructing us to go with some of the chiefs of Ciguatepec to the Acallan towns and do our best to win over the inhabitants, so they would not flee when our army approached.

There were over twenty Acallan towns, some on the mainland and some on small islands in the river or at the estuary’s head, so they could only communicate by canoe. We set out with our Indian guides, who deserted us on the first night, as we later learned they were hostile to these other towns. We were thus forced to find our own way through the swamps with great difficulty until we reached the first Acallan town. When we arrived, the people immediately took up arms, but we tried to win their friendship with kind words and gifts of glass beads and asked them to come to Malinche and bring him some food. At this point, they did not know Cortes was coming with such a large force of foot and horse and showed little desire to accompany us. It was not until the next day, when they learned from traveling Indian traders about the size of Malinche’s army, that they became more willing to provide him with provisions. Still, they told us he would have to wait until he arrived in person, at which time they would gladly give him all they could. They insisted, however, that they would not venture into Ciguatepec territory, where their enemies lived. While we were talking with them, two Spaniards arrived with a letter from Cortes, instructing me to meet him on the march with as many provisions as I could gather, since all the people of Ciguatepec had fled and there was no food to be had. He was therefore forced to continue his march immediately and urged me to do all I could to persuade the caziques to stay in their towns.

These two Spaniards also told me that our general had sent four men up the river to look for supplies among the nearby towns. None of these men had returned, and they were most likely killed by the locals.

Cortes thus began his march and reached the banks of the wide river described earlier in two days' time. He showed his usual energy in overseeing the construction of a bridge, which the men managed—using the tallest, thickest trees nearby—to complete in just four days. The people of Acala were greatly astonished by this achievement. During those four days, our troops had almost nothing to eat, as they had set out without supplies. Worse still, they did not know if any maize could be found ahead or if the land was peaceful. Some of the veterans eased their hunger by cutting down a kind of very tall palm tree, which had nuts with extremely hard shells at the top. They roasted these in the fire and ate the kernels.

A little while after the bridge was finished, my companions and I returned to the camp with one hundred and thirty loads of maize, eighty fowls, some honey, some salt, and several kinds of vegetables. It was fairly late when we arrived, but all the men were eagerly watching for us, as they knew we had gone out in search of food. Our general had even assured them he expected we would soon bring something back—if, that is, the Indians did not kill me as they had the four others he had sent for food.

As I approached camp in the dark, the entire troop pounced on the provisions like ravenous wolves, taking everything for themselves and leaving nothing for Cortes, Sandoval, or the other officers. “This is for Cortes!” they called out each time they grabbed a load of food. His major-domo Carranza and his butler Guinea tried to fight them for it, tugging at the sacks with all their strength, but the men refused to give up a thing and kept repeating, “Cortes and you enjoyed feasts while we starved, and you never gave us a bite; now it’s our turn to think only of ourselves!” Nothing Cortes’ officials said made any difference—they divided all the food among themselves.

When Cortes heard of this, he stamped the ground in anger and swore he would punish those responsible. However, after he vented his rage and thought it over, he realized his threats would do nothing. Still, he called for me and, using a tone of reproach, asked why I had not defended the provisions more vigorously. I replied, “You should have sent a small force to meet me on the road. Yet even if you had been in the guard yourself, it wouldn’t have worked—for hunger obeys no law.”

Seeing there was no help for it, and that only dire need had led the men to this, he soon became friendly again and praised me warmly. Gonzalo de Sandoval was present and I remember well how Cortes said, “O! Señor Bernal Diaz del Castillo, for the love you bear me, if you have hidden any provisions on the way, I beg you, let me have some! You surely haven’t forgotten to keep something for yourself and your friend Sandoval?”

His tone moved me deeply—Sandoval also exclaimed, “I declare to Heaven I’d be grateful for even a handful of maize to roast for my supper!”

“Well,” I said, “when all’s quiet and the others have gone to bed, let’s slip away in the night and go to the next village, where the people have saved for me twelve loads of maize, twenty fowls, three jars of honey, some salt, and have given me two women to bake my bread. We have to be very careful and collect it unseen, before the others can waylay us again and take it.”

Sandoval was so grateful for this prospect of food that he threw his arms around me and declared he’d go with me that very night. So we went together, managed to bring in the supplies unnoticed, and enjoyed them at our leisure. Cortes then asked if the monks had also gotten their share. I replied that God had looked out for them better than he had, for the soldiers had remembered to give them part of their loot so they would not starve.

I mention all this to show the reader what a terrible position a general is in when leading an army into unknown territory. Even though the men greatly feared Cortes, they begrudged him a handful of maize to ease his hunger—and Sandoval himself had to go searching for food, not trusting his own men. There was so little trust among us!

We had all safely crossed the wide river and marched about four miles straight ahead, when we became stuck in a terrible morass. All attempts to build a road by throwing down trees and other materials were useless. The horses sank so deep that often only their heads could be seen above the mud, and we thought we’d never rescue a single one alive. Still, we were told to keep going, for solid ground lay about half a bowshot ahead. We moved forward, leaving a deep churned-up path of mud and water behind us—the horses sometimes swimming, sometimes wading through the worst of it. At last, we reached firm ground and offered thanks to God for our escape.

Cortes then sent me again to the Acallan towns to persuade the caziques, with whom I’d become friendly, to send some food to him in advance. I set out right away, reached Acala by evening, and sent that very night three Spaniards who had traveled with me, along with about a hundred Indians, to Cortes with loads of maize and other provisions. When our general gave me these instructions, he said, “This time I’ll wait for the food to arrive and stand guard over it, so I won’t be as badly off as before.” And sure enough, when it arrived, he, Sandoval, and Luis Marin took charge of it themselves and oversaw its distribution.

The next day, about noon, the army arrived in Acala. The caziques met our general with another supply of provisions; but here I will pause, and relate what else occurred in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CLXXVII. {.chapter}
*Cortes’ further plans after his arrival among the Acallan townships; how he orders the powerful cazique of Mexico, Quauhtemoctzin, and the king of Tlacupa, to be hanged; his reasons for doing this; and of other matters.*

After Cortes arrived in Gueacala and was kindly received by the caziques, he spoke graciously to them through our interpreter, Doña Marina, and presented them with various Spanish trinkets, which greatly amused them. They gladly supplied us with provisions, and Cortes asked them about the route we should take next, and whether they had seen other people like us—bearded men, riding horses, or any strange ships off the coast.

They replied that eight days further on there were many bearded men, who had Castilian women, horses, and three acales—so they called ships—with them. Regarding our question about which direction to take, they laid before us a large piece of cotton cloth, on which all the rivers, swamps, morasses, and townships of the country were drawn.

Cortes was extremely pleased by this, and he requested the caziques, since their population was so large, to bring their canoes and build bridges across the river for us. They replied that their townships were indeed more than twenty in number, but that the majority of these refused obedience to them, especially those situated between the rivers. Therefore, they said, Cortes would need to send some of his teules—as they called us—to command those towns to supply us with provisions.

Cortes took their advice, appointing Diego de Mazariegos, cousin to the treasurer Estrada (whom Cortes had made governor of Mexico), to go to those townships. Cortes liked Mazariegos and wanted to honor him by giving him this command. However, since Mazariegos had little experience with the customs and ways of these lands, Cortes suggested in confidence that Mazariegos ask me to accompany him and follow my advice in all things. Mazariegos took this suggestion seriously and followed our general’s counsel. I don’t mention this to praise myself, for it was well known among all the troops, and Cortes himself, in his reports to the emperor about the expedition to Honduras (which I read myself), also mentioned this fact.

The caziques quickly supplied us with the necessary canoes, and eighty of us, along with Mazariegos, set out. We reached the townships mentioned above safely, received a warm welcome, and the people gave us as many provisions as they could spare. We loaded one hundred canoes with maize, fowls, honey, and salt, and also brought with us ten female slaves who had been given to us, and the caziques themselves accompanied us back to pay their respects to Cortes. However, after three days, most of the caziques suddenly left, leaving us with only three guides, with whom we continued our journey. We had two rivers to cross—one by a bridge that broke before we all made it across, and the other by canoes—until we reached another Acallan township, which we found deserted, though we discovered plenty of provisions hidden in the hills.

Now I must tell of a very different event, which caused us all great sorrow. Quauhtemoctzin and other Mexican chiefs who were traveling with us apparently spoke among themselves, or had secretly resolved, to kill us all, return to Mexico, gather the country’s full military power against the few remaining Spaniards, and start an insurrection throughout New Spain. This plot was revealed to Cortes by two noble Mexican chiefs: Tapia and Juan Velasquez. Juan Velasquez had been Quauhtemoctzin’s captain-general during our war with Mexico, and his testimony was corroborated by Cortes's own investigations and by the confessions of several caziques involved in the conspiracy. These men bravely admitted that, seeing how carelessly we marched about, how many of our men were weak from hunger, that four of our musicians, the buffoon, and five soldiers had died of starvation, and that three other men had turned back—preferring to risk returning to Mexico than to go forward—the thought occurred to them that they should attack us while we were crossing a river or marsh, as they numbered over 3,000 strong, all armed with lances and some with swords. Quauhtemoctzin admitted these facts but insisted that the plot was not his idea, and that he had never seriously considered carrying it out, though he had discussed it with the other caziques. The cazique of Tlacupa confessed only to having told Quauhtemoctzin that it was better to die at once than face daily death on these arduous marches and see their countrymen perish from hunger.

These confessions were enough for Cortes, who, without further delay, sentenced Quauhtemoctzin and his cousin, the king of Tlacupa, to hang. Before the execution, the Franciscan monks and Doña Marina tried to comfort these unfortunate men and commended their souls to God. As Quauhtemoctzin was led to the gallows, he turned to Cortes and said, “Oh Malinche! For a long time I have known from your false words that you destined me for this death, because I did not kill myself when you entered my city of Mexico! Why do you now execute me unjustly? God will one day demand an answer from you!”

The king of Tlacupa said he could only rejoice in a death he would share with his sovereign, Quauhtemoctzin.

Before they were hanged, both chiefs confessed to Father Juan, who spoke the Mexican language, and asked him to commend their souls to God. For Indians, they were good Christians; they died in the true faith and believed fully in our holy religion.

The death of these two monarchs deeply grieved me, for I had known them in all their glory, and during our march they had honored me with their friendship, showing me many kindnesses—such as sending their servants to get fodder for my horse. Besides, they were innocent of the crime ascribed to them, and everyone in our expedition agreed that they were put to death unjustly.

But I will set aside this sad subject and return to our march, during which we became extremely cautious, fearing that the Mexicans might rise up against us after witnessing their monarch hanged in such a shameful way. Still, for our followers, hunger, fatigue, and illness weighed more heavily than the misfortune of Quauhtemoctzin.

As we continued our journey, we came to a river, crossed it in canoes, and soon reached a township deserted by its people. While searching for food in nearby houses, we found eight Indian priests, or papas, who, after some persuasion, accompanied us to the township where they were brought before Cortes. Through Doña Marina, Cortes kindly assured them they had nothing to fear and urged them to call their countrymen back. The papas agreed but asked that we not touch the idols in a building next to Cortes’s quarters. Cortes gave his word that the idols would not be harmed, but reminded them that these were only lumps of clay and wood—evil things, unworthy of their devotion—and that their idolatry was the work of Satan. The Franciscan monks questioned the papas about their idol worship, and the priests responded thoughtfully, promising to abandon such practices in the future.

Soon, we received thirty loads of maize and some fowls. Cortes then asked the papas how many suns—that is, days’ journey—it was from there to the people with beards and horses. They replied it was seven suns to the township of Nito, where those men had settled, and offered to lead us to the next village, warning us that we would have to spend one night in an uninhabited place along the way.

Nearby, by the building housing the idols, stood a massive ceiba tree. Cortes ordered a large cross to be carved into its bark. Our general had lately seemed very low in spirits and pensive. The exhausting march, the many Spaniards who had fallen sick, the even greater number of our Mexican allies who had died, and perhaps the regret he felt for executing Quauhtemoctzin and the king of Tlacupa without a trial, constantly troubled him and gave him no peace by night or day. Sometimes he would rise from bed in the night to walk about, as he did in this township. One night, he got up to walk into a large adjoining room filled with idols, where the Indians held their ceremonies. Apparently, he forgot about the two steps that led down into the room, fell heavily, and hurt his head badly. He had the wound dressed in secret and never spoke of the accident.

Early the next morning, we broke camp and set out exactly as the guides had described, arriving with no noteworthy incident at the edge of a morass at the foot of high mountains, where we camped for the night. At dawn, we marched on and reached, around the hour of high mass, a township in the middle of the vast marsh. The town looked newly built. In fact, the houses had been constructed only days before our arrival. The place was surrounded by a double entrenchment of tree trunks and more heavy poles stuck vertically. The approaches were defended by a deep ditch and two circular enclosures: one with a proper battlement, small towers, and loopholes; the other was higher, made of large stones, also with a battlement. The morass covered the remaining side. In every sense, this was a fortress.

Entering the town, we saw no inhabitants, but in the houses, we found plenty of boiled turkeys and other fowls, cooked Indian-style with hot peppers and maize cakes called tamales. We were astonished by the abundance and speculated greatly about such a sight. Another large building was filled with bows, arrows, and small darts. We searched the area but found no maize fields.

While searching, we saw fifteen Indians coming from the direction of the marsh. When they reached us, they touched the ground and kissed it as a sign of respect. They were the township chiefs, begging Cortes in almost tearful tones not to burn their houses. They explained they had only recently settled there, forced to build strong defenses out of fear of their enemies—the Lacandones, if I recall correctly—who had burned their two previous towns on the plains, plundered everything, and killed many of their people. As we continued our march, we would pass the ashes of their old homes. The chiefs told us the reasons for their feud and described their style of warfare. Cortes then asked why they had cooked such quantities of turkeys and fowls. The chiefs replied they feared another Lacandone attack and, expecting to lose all if the enemy triumphed, had decided to eat their provisions before the enemy arrived; but if they won the next battle, they planned to plunder their enemies’ towns and recover their losses.

Cortes told them he regretted their wars but could not help them, as he had to press on with his march. This group, to whom two other major towns we passed the next day also belonged, were called the Mazotecs—a name in their language meaning “land or nation of the wild deer,” which was most fitting, as the reader will soon see.

From there, we took two guides who led us across the ruins of the two mentioned townships and gave us more information about Spaniards we would meet much farther ahead.

## CHAPTER CLXXVIII. {.chapter}
*We continue our march, and what further happened to us.*

After we left the fortified township, we entered an immense open plain, where not a single tree was visible as far as the eye could see. The heat here was more intense than anything we had experienced before. This plain was filled with wild deer, which were so tame that we could easily catch them with our horses; in a very short time, we killed more than twenty. When we asked our guides why these animals seemed unafraid of horses or anything else, and why they were so easy to catch, they explained that the Mazotecs revered these deer as higher beings, judging by their appearance, and their idols had strictly forbidden them to kill or even disturb the animals.

One of Cortés’ relatives, named Palacios Rubios, lost his horse while chasing these deer. He galloped so much over the plain that the fat inside the horse melted, and the poor creature suddenly dropped dead.

Before long, we reached the townships that had been destroyed, which presented a truly dismal scene. As we continued marching, our scouts encountered two Indians from a town ahead of us. These men were returning from the hunt, having killed a large lion and several iguanas, which look like small serpents and make excellent food. Our scouts asked if any town was nearby, and the Indians confirmed this, offering to guide them there. The town was situated on an island in a freshwater lake, and could only be reached by canoes from the direction we were coming, obliging us to walk two more miles along the water until we found a place shallow enough to wade across—though it was almost up to our arms. Only a few inhabitants remained, as the rest had fled with their possessions, hiding them among the reeds near their fields; still, some of our men settled in the maize plantations for the night, feasted on the fruit, and gathered provisions for the next day’s march.

Near this township was a large freshwater lake full of big, spiny fish which resembled the unappetizing shad in appearance and taste. Using old cloaks and battered nets from the abandoned houses, we dragged the lake and caught over a thousand of these ugly fish. In the fields, we also caught a few townspeople. Doña Marina convinced them to guide us to the towns where men with beards and horses had settled, to which they agreed, seeing we meant them no harm, and five of them joined us immediately. At first, the road was wide, but soon narrowed until we reached a broad river or estuary heavily traveled by canoes. The locals crossed here to the opposite township of Tayasal, which stood on an island; its houses and temples, covered with white plaster, were visible from a great distance. All the smaller towns nearby were subject to this main one.

When our path narrowed into a small trail, we decided to camp for the night near some hills. During the night, Cortés sent four companies down footpaths toward the estuary to search for guides; they managed to capture ten Indians and two women, with two canoes full of maize and salt. When the captives were brought before Cortés, he spoke to them kindly through Doña Marina, learning they belonged to a town on an island sixteen miles away. Cortés sent the smaller of the two canoes, with four Indians and two Spaniards, to request that the caciques bring their canoes to ferry us over the water. He instructed the Spaniards to give them Spanish trinkets and assure them of our peaceful intentions.

All our troops marched to the riverbank, where we joyfully found the caciques and other dignitaries waiting with five canoes, a supply of maize, and several chickens. Cortés addressed the caciques in a friendly fashion; after some excellent discussions, he boarded a canoe with thirty crossbowmen and the chiefs to go to their town. There, they served him their best provisions and presented him with several cloaks and a little gold, though not of high quality. According to their reports, there were men like us in two other towns: Nito, which we called San Gil de Buena Vista, on the north coast, and Naco, in the interior. They said these towns were ten days’ journey apart. We were very surprised that Olid had split his troops, as we knew nothing at that time of Buena Vista being founded by Avila.

The entire army crossed the broad river by canoe and camped eight miles farther on, waiting for Cortés, who stayed at the previously mentioned town. On returning, he ordered that another horse, also overheated from chasing deer, be left behind. While camped there, one of our black servants and two female slaves ran away. Even three Spaniards chose to stay and risk being killed by the Indians rather than continue the exhausting march for three more days. I myself was very unwell—the intense sun affected my head so much I could hardly function. Still, as bad as the heat was, it was preferable to the torrential rains that soon began and fell non-stop for three days; yet we had to keep moving, as we had nothing left to eat. In two days, we came to some small hills covered in razor-sharp stones. Our men worked hard trying to find a different path, searching for more than four miles without success. This was especially dangerous for the horses—being still rainy, they constantly stumbled and cut their knees and even bellies badly on the sharp stones. The descent was even worse: eight horses died, many more were seriously wounded, and one of the soldiers, Palacios Rubios, Cortés’ relative, broke his leg. We were more grateful than words could say to be finished with this "mountain of flint."

Now approaching the township of Taica, we were eager at the prospect of finally getting some food. In the vicinity, we came to a river that cascaded from a high mountain and was so swollen by the rain that it thundered down in great torrents, the roar audible from eight miles away. The only way to cross was to build a bridge from rock to rock. We worked as hard as possible and, in three days, built a bridge from the largest trees, crossing safely to the other side. While we were busy building, the people of Taica had just enough time to run off and hide all their provisions. When we entered, finding not a single inhabitant nor a bite of food to satisfy our hunger, we looked at each other in despair, realizing the desperate situation we were in. The hope of food alone had kept us going through the burden of constructing the bridge. For myself, I freely admit I never in my life felt so deeply distressed as I did then, when I could not provide food for my men or for myself. On top of this, we had worn ourselves out searching the countryside under a burning sun for the missing inhabitants. It was the eve of Easter, and I will never forget it as long as I live. The reader can imagine what sort of Easter we had—without so much as a handful of maize.

In this time of great need, Cortés sent out all his servants and grooms, along with our guides, over the hills searching for maize fields. On Easter day, they came back with some maize, but there was scarcely a bushel—hardly anything among so many mouths! Cortés saw our crisis growing worse by the hour and summoned me and several other soldiers, most of us Guacasualco settlers. He told us that our condition was so dire he must ask us to search the countryside for food. Pedro de Ircio happened to be present. Always full of talk, he asked Cortés to let him lead the foraging party. "As far as I'm concerned," replied Cortés, "go, and may God be with you!" But I knew Ircio was a poor marcher and would be more hindrance than help, so I quietly told Cortés and my friend Sandoval that Ircio, with his splayed feet, was ill-suited for trudging through bogs, and besides, he talked more than he acted, and couldn’t handle hardships. Our general agreed and canceled Ircio’s assignment.

I then set out with four soldiers and two guides. We crossed several deep rivers and marshes, reaching a small village where most former residents of the deserted town had fled. There we found four houses loaded with maize, about thirty chickens, and a few melons. We caught four Indians and three women, and we now celebrated Easter in style. Over a thousand Mexicans sent by Cortés arrived that night, and we loaded them with as much maize as they could carry, sending them back to our camp along with more than twenty fowls for Cortés and Sandoval, as well as the prisoners. We posted guards at the storehouses to prevent fires or theft during the night. The next day, we found more buildings full of maize, poultry, and vegetables. I even made myself some ink and wrote a letter to our general on a scrap of drum skin, asking for a detachment of Indian troops since we’d located another storehouse. The following day, over thirty Spaniards and five hundred Indians came, each loading up as much as possible. Thus, by God’s mercy, we were rescued from distress and rested for five days in Taica.

The bridges we built over the many rivers were so sturdily constructed that many remained for years afterwards, and when these provinces later became part of the Spanish crown, our countrymen would marvel at them, exclaiming, *These are the bridges of Cortés!* just as people refer to the "Columns of Hercules."

After traveling two more days, we reached Tania, another township deserted by its people, although we found some maize and supplies—still not enough for our force. Thoroughly searching the area, we realized we were surrounded by rivers and streams. The guides we had with us escaped at night from their guards (who were new arrivals from New Spain and—it seems—fell asleep on the job). Cortés first wanted to punish them severely but was persuaded to forgive them. He sent out another party to reconnoiter, but with all the rivers, the rain, and the flooding, there was little hope of finding inhabitants. Hemmed in by water, we hardly knew what direction to go, anxiety and fear increasing by the hour. Even Cortés seemed discouraged and said, with real irritation, to Ircio and the other Mexico officers, “Which of you will volunteer to go look for an Indian guide, or find a way out of this waterlogged trap? It is a disgrace to leave everything to the old veterans from Guacasualco!”

Stung by this, Ircio and his friends volunteered and set out. Marmolejo, a distinguished man, also went with six, as did Santacruz Burgales with another six. Each party went a different way and wandered three days, but all returned with the dismal news that everywhere was flooded. Cortés was beside himself with frustration and sent Sandoval to ask me—in his name—to go find a way out of our predicament. He said this in a very gentle, pleading tone, knowing I was unwell, suffering from a severe fever. That was why I declined to go earlier with Marmolejo, telling him, “Must I do everything? Let others carry their share!” At first, I refused Sandoval as well, but he came a second time, urging me earnestly, saying Cortés declared that, next to God, I was his best hope. Though truly sick, I couldn’t let honor keep me from my duty any longer, and I asked for Hernando de Aguilar and Hinojosa—two men I knew could handle any hardship.

The three of us followed a rivulet far from camp. Soon we spotted a hill on the opposite bank, with branches planted as if serving for a signal. We headed that way for over an hour and, slipping between the rivers, reached some abandoned huts. Pressing on, we saw, on the hillside, some maize fields around an isolated house, from which we heard voices. As the sun was nearly set, we waited quietly in the bush until midnight, then silently approached, surprised the house, and captured three Indians, an old woman, and two very attractive young women. We found only two fowls and a little maize, but with these, and our captives, we joyfully returned to camp. Sandoval had watched for us late into the night, was the first to spot our return, and could barely contain his happiness. He quickly informed Cortés, who was thrilled with the news. "Bernal Díaz del Castillo was right when he said that seeking provisions takes men of action, not those who spend the time on tales of the Count of Ureña and his son Don Pedro Girón!" Sandoval remarked to Pedro de Ircio—for that was Ircio’s usual topic. "He spoke the truth, so you can’t blame him for speaking frankly to the general and me."

This caused general laughter at Ircio’s expense, and Sandoval meant it as a small victory for me, since I owed Ircio a grudge.

When I reported to Cortés, he thanked me warmly, saying, “I have never known you to fail in a time of need!”

But there's no point repeating these flattering words; such praise is empty in the end, and I hardly gained anything by it except that, whenever our dangerous expedition was discussed later in Mexico, my name was always mentioned with approval.

By questioning the captured Indians, Cortés learned that if we followed a certain rivulet, in two days we would reach a township called Oculizti, with more than two hundred houses, though it had just been abandoned. We marched down the stream, arriving at some big huts used by Indian traders. We spent the night there and continued the next day for two miles, following the water until we reached a good road, which brought us by sunset to Coliste. There, we found maize, plenty of vegetables, and, in a temple, an old Spanish cap and shoe that had been offered to the idols. Some of our men searched nearby hollows and soon found two elderly Indians and four women, who were brought before Cortés. When Doña Marina questioned them about any Spanish settlements, they replied that one lay on the seacoast, five days' journey ahead, with no Indian townships along the way.

On this news, Cortés promptly sent Sandoval, with six soldiers on foot, toward the coast in search of Christóbal de Olid’s forces, since we knew nothing yet of what had happened there.

Cortés planned to surprise Olid at night, when he was least expecting us, and take him and his troops prisoner. Sandoval took three Indian guides from Oculizti and set out. Arriving on the north coast, marching by the shore, he saw a canoe heading for land under sail and paddle. Sandoval hid behind a rise, waiting for the canoe to beach. The canoe belonged to Indian merchants carrying salt and maize, destined for the large river flowing into the Golfo Dulce.

At night, Sandoval emerged from hiding, seized the crew, then took the canoe with two of his men and the guides, instructing the merchants to row him along the coast, while four other Spaniards followed by land. Sandoval guessed the big river was close—and he was right, for soon he arrived and encountered four Spaniards from the new colony founded by Gil González de Avila. These men had just come by canoe from a supply foray, since provisions in the colony were desperately scarce. Everyone there suffered from poor health and did not dare search the nearby area for food, being in conflict with the Indians, who had already killed ten since Avila left for Mexico.

Approaching in the canoe, Sandoval spotted the four Spaniards collecting coconuts. Two who were up a tree first spotted the strange vessel and shouted to their comrades on the ground. All four were so startled and nervous they didn’t know whether to run or stay put, but Sandoval’s friendly greeting calmed them. They then told him the full story: the founding of their colony, Las Casas’ ill-fated fleet, the capture of Las Casas and Avila by Olid, Olid’s execution at Naco, and the two former officers’ journey back to Mexico. They gave details about the wretched state of the colony, the number of settlers, their suffering for want of food, and added that a few days before, they had hanged the commandant, Armenta, for refusing to let them return to Cuba.

Sandoval decided to bring these men to Cortés, so news of our approach wouldn’t reach the colony. One of Sandoval’s soldiers, Alonso Ortiz of San Pedro, asked leave to go ahead to be the first to announce the good news to our troops and win a fine reward. Sandoval agreed, and nothing could have delighted us more—we thought our hardships were now finally at an end, little suspecting worse lay ahead. Ortiz was well rewarded for his speed—Cortés gave him a fine gray horse we called "the Moor’s head," and everyone else gave him further gifts. Soon after, Sandoval himself arrived with the other Spaniards, who repeated their news for Cortés. They also reported that two miles farther was a harbor where a ship was being prepared to carry colonists back to Cuba. The commandant Armenta, they said, had refused to let them leave; for this, and for flogging a priest who stirred up revolt, the inhabitants rebelled, hanged him, and placed Antonio Nieto in command. Meanwhile, in San Gil de Buena Vista, all was mourning when the foraging party did not return that night; everyone feared they had been killed by Indians or wild beasts. One of the returning men had a wife, who burst into loud grief, believing him dead. The whole community went to church, Father Velásquez preached a funeral sermon, and prayers were said for the dead.

Cortés now led the entire army toward the coast, a full twenty-four miles away. Our advance was long delayed by a deep arm of the sea, and we could only cross at low tide by partly swimming and partly wading, which held us up until noon. At last we reached the broad river of the Golfo Dulce, which Cortés and six soldiers crossed first to reach the new town. Two canoes—one captured by Sandoval, one from the colonists—were lashed together, and our general, six men, and a few servants embarked and were ferried over. Next, some horses were swum across, held tightly by the bridles lest they upset the canoes.

Cortés gave strict orders that no one else was to cross until he sent further instructions in writing. The crossing was extremely dangerous, and Cortés later regretted risking his life like this.

## CHAPTER CLXXIX. {.chapter}
*How Cortés entered the town founded by Gil González de Avila; the great joy of the inhabitants at his arrival, and what he further did there.*

The town of Buena Vista, founded by Avila, was about eight miles from the broad river of the Golfo Dulce, near the seashore. After crossing, Cortés and his small party went straight there. When they entered, the first reaction of the inhabitants—seeing strange men on horseback and others on foot—was great alarm. But when they learned it was the very man whose fame had spread throughout these provinces and New Spain, their fear gave way to overwhelming joy. The whole town quickly gathered to greet and congratulate him. Cortés welcomed them kindly, then ordered Commandant Nieto to load both town boats and all available canoes with cassava bread and hurry them to Sandoval. The commandant did so at once, but could find only fifty pounds of bread—the colonists had survived on nothing but wild fruits, some vegetables, and whatever fish they could catch. Even this small stock of cassava bread had been reserved for their planned voyage to Cuba.

With these supplies, the two boats, manned by eight sailors, left for Sandoval’s camp. Cortés, in a letter to Sandoval, instructed him and Luis Marin to be the last to cross the great river, and specifically cautioned not to let too many cross at once due to the strong current. No horses were to be taken by canoe at all, and even the boats should carry no more than two at a time.

When the boats arrived, a dispute immediately arose over who should cross first. Saavedra and his brother Avalos claimed priority because they were relatives of Cortés, but Sandoval held that this privilege belonged to the three reverend friars. Saavedra insisted that, as a relative of Cortés, precedence was his right, and answered Sandoval in very rude terms. This so angered Sandoval that he, standing in the water to keep the boats from being overloaded, rushed at Saavedra, grabbed the hand holding his dagger, and dragged him headfirst into the river. If the rest of us hadn’t intervened, Saavedra might well have lost his life then and there, for nearly every soldier sided with Sandoval.

It took four entire days to get everyone across the river, during which time all we had to eat were palm nuts, which we roasted and ate the kernels. One soldier, Tarifa, attempted to cross with his horse in a canoe and was lost—most likely both he and his horse drowned, for neither were ever seen again. Two other horses also perished, one belonging to Solís Casquete, who raved like a madman at the loss and cursed Cortés and the whole expedition.

The hunger we suffered during the crossing created real discontent, and the troops grumbled loudly against Cortés and the entire dreadful march. When we reached the town, our condition hardly improved. There was not a crumb of bread—nothing in the storehouses or colonists’ homes, and the settlers were unfamiliar with the region, knowing of only two nearby towns, both long deserted. Cortés’ first order was to seek provisions; he promptly sent Luis Marin and the Guacasualco veterans into the countryside in search of maize. How we fared at this, I will relate in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CLXXX. {.chapter}
*How eighty of us, two days after our arrival in Buena Vista, marched out under the command of Luis Marin to explore the country and look for provisions.*

The population of the town of Buena Vista consisted of forty Spaniards, four Spanish ladies, and two mulattoes. All of these people were ill and had a sallow, yellowish look. They had no provisions and suffered from hunger as much as we did, and no one could tell us where to go to find maize. Seeing there was no time to lose, Cortes sent Luis Marin, along with the men from Guacasualco, into the countryside.

Altogether, we were eighty men, and we set out on foot, to first see whether horses could travel in the area. An Indian from Cuba guided us toward some villages about thirty-two miles further into the country. When we arrived, to our great relief, we found an abundance of maize, beans, and other vegetables. The whole area was also full of coconut trees. We first feasted heartily and then sent a messenger to our general, asking him to send the Mexican troops to help collect the maize, forwarding ten bushels as an immediate supply, and requesting he send us our horses.

When Cortes learned that we had reached such a fertile area, and was told by some Indian traders that the road to Naco—where Christobal de Oli was beheaded—passed through the town where we were, he ordered Sandoval to follow us with most of the remaining troops, and not to leave the village until he received further instructions.

Sandoval, on reaching our camp, was delighted to find us surrounded by plenty. He quickly sent the Mexicans with thirty bushels of maize to Cortes, who distributed this much-needed supply among the colonists. Since they hadn’t had anything but fruit and a little cassava bread for a long time, they ate the maize so quickly and greedily that most of them became ill, and seven died as a result.

During this period of dire need, it pleased God that a ship arrived from Cuba, carrying seven passengers, seven horses, forty pigs, eight barrels of pickled meat, and lots of cassava bread. The cargo belonged to an Antonio de Comargo, and Cortes bought all of it on credit, distributing much of it among the colonists. Unfortunately, their health was so poor that their stomachs could not handle this rich food, which caused dysentery, leading to the deaths of ten more.

As the vessel had brought a few soldiers and eight sailors, Cortes decided to take the ship up the river to visit the towns along the banks and explore the interior. He also ordered one of Gil Gonzalez de Avila’s brigantines to be repaired, for a boat to be built like those used in unloading ships, and for four canoes to be securely joined together. On these, Cortes set out with thirty soldiers, eight sailors, and twenty Mexicans. They sailed about forty miles upriver and discovered a large lake, about twenty-four miles across, but its banks were deserted, as the area was often flooded. Further up, the river became so rapid that the vessels could not go past some cataracts. Cortes left six Spaniards with the ships and marched inland along a narrow path. He first came to deserted villages, then to some maize fields where he captured three Indians to use as guides. They led him to several small villages with plenty of maize and fowls. The people also raised pheasants (called sacachueles), tame partridges, and pigeons. This keeping of partridges as domestic birds I never saw elsewhere except in towns near the Golfo Dulce.

From here, Cortes got new guides and arrived at townships called Cinacatan-Tencintle, where the area was full of maize, cacao, and cotton plantations. As he approached, he heard drums, trumpets, and the sounds of an Indian festival. Cortes hid his men on a hill to watch for a good moment to attack. He struck while the locals were unaware and captured ten men and fifteen women. The rest of the Indians ran to their town, armed themselves, and shot arrows at us. Cortes counterattacked and quickly killed eight chiefs, which calmed the others, and they sent four elders—including two priests—with a token gift of gold, asking for the prisoners to be released. Cortes, speaking through Doña Marina, who was there with her husband Juan Xaramillo, told them to send maize, fowls, salt, and plenty of other supplies to our ships. If they obeyed, he would return their prisoners. They sent their canoes, loaded the supplies as instructed, but since Cortes did not immediately release everyone—keeping three men and their wives to bake bread—the locals again took up arms and attacked, wounding twelve men and even Cortes himself in the face. In the fighting, one canoe capsized, some provisions were lost, and one Mexican was killed.

There were so many mosquitoes on the riverbanks that life there seemed impossible. Still, Cortes endured it all with patience and returned to Buena Vista, which now had more provisions than ever. The last village to attack Cortes was called Cinacan, about 280 miles from Guatemala. This trip up the river took our general twenty-six days, but even with all the fertility, he didn’t think the area good for a colony, as the population was too low. He wrote to Sandoval that he would soon march to Naco himself, but first wanted to make a short expedition to Puerto de Caballos and would need ten of the veterans of Guacasualco, whose help was essential for any tough mission.

## CHAPTER CLXXXI. {.chapter}
*How Cortes sets out, with his soldiers and all the inhabitants of Buena Vista, for Puerto de Caballos, where he founds a colony named Natividad.*

Thinking that the place where Avila had established Buena Vista was unsuitable for a colony in every way, our general had all the inhabitants board two vessels and the brigantine, and sailed for the bay of Puerto de Caballos, reaching it in eight days. Finding an excellent harbor and being told by the natives of many nearby villages, he decided to found a colony there, naming it Natividad. He made Diego de Godoy the commandant. Then he visited the area, though the villages he visited are now all gone. The people assured him there were more settlements nearby and that Naco was not far. He stocked the new town well with supplies and wrote to Sandoval—whom he thought had already reached Naco—asking again for ten of the men from Guacasualco, saying plainly in his letter that no important task could succeed without them. He added that he planned to travel on to the bay of Honduras to visit the new town of Truxillo and continue the conquest and founding of a settlement in a good location. Sandoval received this letter while still in the same township where we first stopped, since we hadn’t yet moved on to Naco. For now, let’s leave Cortes in Puerto de Caballos, where, as we heard, the people were so tormented day and night by endless mosquitoes that every comfort was destroyed.

When Cortes’ letter arrived, Sandoval would have gladly set out for Naco at once if he hadn’t already sent out most of his troops to search for provisions and feed for our horses. He was forced to wait for their return, especially since they had been delayed by crossing a river and had left a small guard to look after the canoe used for ferrying. Besides this, Sandoval was fighting with Indians from villages near the Golfo Dulce, so he sent an extra eight men—under my command—to strengthen the guard at the canoe. We had to stay very alert, as one night a large group of Indians tried to sneak up and capture the canoe and set our huts on fire. Thankfully, we were warned in time, and our eight, along with four Mexicans, went out boldly and drove them off, though two Spaniards and a Mexican were wounded by arrows. Afterward, three of us set off to some huts where several sick Mexicans and Spaniards had stayed behind. We brought them safely to Sandoval, except for one Spaniard who died of exhaustion a couple of miles from the township. He had only recently arrived from Spain, and we had to leave his body by the roadside for lack of enough people to carry it.

When I reported all this to Sandoval, he was very angry that we hadn’t brought the dead body with us, either on our shoulders or a horse. I explained calmly that each horse was already carrying two sick men, and that we ourselves had to walk. But my companion Villa Nueva was less patient and told Sandoval bluntly that we could barely walk ourselves, much less carry a corpse, and he was tired of the endless hardships in Cortes’ service, for no reward. Still, Sandoval ordered us to go back and bury the body. Villa Nueva and I took two Mexicans and a spade, dug a deep grave, laid our companion to rest, and placed a cross. In his pocket, we found some gold, dice, and a scrap of paper with information on his birthplace, parents, and property in Tenerife. We later forwarded this to his family. May God have mercy on his soul: Amen.

We then proceeded to some villages, near which gold mines would be discovered three years later. From there we reached Quinistan, and the next morning arrived at Naco, which was then a large town—though there wasn’t a single inhabitant present. We stayed in a big courtyard, where Christobal de Oli was beheaded. In some houses, we luckily found maize, beans, and even some salt, which we badly needed. We settled in as comfortably as if we never intended to leave.

In Naco was a well containing the sweetest water I ever tasted in the New World. Nearby stood a wide-spreading tree, whose shade kept the air so cool, even in the hottest midday, that we felt refreshed and invigorated. From the tree also fell a gentle dew, which was wonderfully soothing. The area was full of provisions, and small villages were scattered in all directions. I’ll pause here and continue in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CLXXXII. {.chapter}
*Sandoval begins to subdue the province of Naco, and encounters resistance from the natives.*

On arriving in Naco, we took possession of the storehouses and spread out among the maize fields, where we captured three chiefs of the town. Sandoval treated these men kindly, gave them Spanish trinkets, and asked them to fetch the principal caciques, wanting to form good relations. The men did as asked, and returned with two caciques, though the townsfolk wouldn't return to their homes, sending only a few provisions from time to time. Things stayed like this for several days, with neither side starting any conflict.

Remember, Cortes had sent for ten of the veterans of Guacasualco, listing them by name, with mine at the top. But as I was unwell, I asked Sandoval to excuse me from joining this expedition and to tell the general I was too sick to go, which was the honest truth. Sandoval agreed, and sent eight soldiers to Cortes—men willing to face any danger—but on this occasion, they went very unwillingly, cursing the expedition openly. Their complaint had some merit, for who knew whether the country they were heading for was friendly or not.

Before they left, Sandoval asked the caciques to send five distinguished persons along to Puerto de Caballos, warning them that any harm to the Spaniards would bring destruction on their villages. He also ordered that our men be supplied with the best food along the way.

When the eight reached Puerto de Caballos, Cortes was about to embark for Truxillo. He was greatly pleased at their arrival, knowing their worth as soldiers, and soon departed with his men, leaving Diego de Godoy in command of the new colony, made up of forty people from Buena Vista and the recent arrivals from Cuba. Godoy barely waited for Cortes’ ship to disappear before setting out with everyone healthy enough to travel, and forced two neighboring villages to submit. But as the Indians soon saw the Spaniards were ill and dying, they paid little heed, and stopped giving provisions. Since the Spaniards dared not leave the town to search for food, a real famine set in, quickly killing half of them. Three deserted and fled to Naco.

There matters, too, began to change. When Sandoval saw that the Indians stubbornly refused to return to the town, he decided on stronger measures, determined to force them back to their homes. We marched out and visited Girimonga, Aculaco, and three other villages near Naco; all submitted to Spanish rule without resistance. We had the same success in Quizmitan and the mountain tribes, who even came out to meet us and declare themselves vassals to our emperor. With the people of the region, we remained on friendly terms—taking only what they freely offered—so eventually the Naco folk came to trust us again and returned home. Peace then reigned throughout the country until Cortes founded the town called Puerto de Caballos.

Now let us see how things were going in Truxillo.

## CHAPTER CLXXXIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes lands in the harbour of Truxillo, and the inhabitants rejoice at his arrival.*

Cortes set sail from Puerto de Caballos with a considerable group of his best soldiers, and, after a favorable six-day voyage, arrived at the harbour of Truxillo. The colonists there were overjoyed to learn that Cortes himself was among the newcomers. All the inhabitants gathered on the beach to welcome him and pay him their respects. Since many in the colony were people who had been expelled from Panuco, or had taken part in the revolt led by Christobal de Oli, their first action was to ask Cortes for forgiveness for their past actions. He granted this immediately, spoke with them in a very friendly manner, and joined them in going directly to the church to give thanks. The most comfortable house was prepared for him, and the leading citizens then explained all the details about Francisco de las Casas' arrival, his capture along with Gonsalez de Avila, and the subsequent execution of Christobal de Oli; how the former two officers had left for Mexico, but that they themselves had, in the meantime, subdued several towns in this province.

After our general had learned everything that had happened, he expressed his approval and confirmed the various officials of the town in their current positions, both civil and military, but he named his cousin Saavedra captain-general of the entire country, which met with everyone's approval. He then summoned the inhabitants of the whole surrounding region to send ambassadors, and to declare themselves subjects of our emperor, which they soon did when they learned that Malinche, the conqueror of Mexico, had arrived in person; and they brought a large quantity of provisions as well.

As the caziques of the four major towns all happened to be present before Cortes, he took the opportunity to address them at length, with Doña Marina interpreting. He first spoke to them about our holy religion, then about our great emperor Don Carlos of Austria, who ruled over many lands and nations; how his majesty had sent us specifically to these countries to abolish all idolatry, theft, human sacrifice, cannibalism, and other evils; and also to teach them to live together in peace and harmony. Therefore, he told them, it was their duty to submit themselves to such a merciful monarch and to help us in every way they could; but, on the other hand, he warned he would be forced to punish anyone who disturbed the peace.

After this, father Juan de las Varillas and the two Franciscan monks preached an inspiring sermon, which two Mexicans fluent in Spanish, and others, interpreted for the caziques, who listened carefully and promptly declared themselves vassals of our emperor, promising to obey Malinche in all things. Our general then instructed them to supply the colony with provisions, and to send Indians with the necessary tools to level a hill in the town that blocked the view of the harbour and sea. He also asked them to send their canoes to the towns on the Guanajas islands to request the inhabitants there to provide fish, which they had in abundance. The people from these islands readily agreed, bringing gifts of chickens and fish, while Cortes gave them some of the pigs he had brought on this expedition; he had been told by a Spaniard that these islands were ideal for raising pigs if the animals were allowed to roam free. This proved true; a couple of years later, the pigs had multiplied so much that people came regularly to hunt them.

But this is a bit outside my story, so I will instead explain that the caziques sent so many Indians to level the hill that, in just two days, there was a clear view of the sea from the town. They also built fifteen houses, one of which, for Cortes, was larger than the others. Since several towns still refused to submit, Cortes asked the caziques of Papayeca, which was then a large town, to list the tribes that had not yet sent ambassadors. He learned that all of them lived in the mountains and were ready for war. Our general then sent Saavedra with a force of troops, which included the eight soldiers from Guacasualco, to force these Indians to ask for peace. Most of the towns, when our troops approached, wisely surrendered without resistance; but three towns stubbornly held out, and if I remember correctly, they were called the Acaltecas, so Saavedra immediately marched his men against them. Cortes' name was so feared and respected that even the distant tribes of Olancho, where rich mines were later discovered, sent ambassadors to pledge loyalty to our emperor. Throughout the region, Cortes was known as the captain Hue, Hue of Marina, meaning the old captain who has Marina with him.

During our general’s stay in Truxillo, his cousin Avalos, the two Franciscan monks, the legal advisor Pedro Lopez, his officers Carranza and Guinea, Juan Tlamena, several men from his company, and many colonists were all in poor health. Cortes decided to send all of them, once the weather improved, to either Cuba or St. Domingo. He outfitted a ship with the best available supplies, and also sent dispatches to the Hieronymite order, giving them a full account of the dangerous expedition to the coast of Honduras and the arrangements he had made for ruling New Spain in his absence. He described everything from the day he sent Oli with a fleet to Honduras, up to Oli's tragic death, and included a report on the country and its rich gold mines.

To ensure that these passengers would be well received in Cuba, he gave them some valuable jewels from his own treasures and pieces of his gold dinnerware. He put his cousin Avalos in command of the ship and instructed him to stop at the island of Cozumel, where he was to capture and bring back twenty-five soldiers who had been left there by another officer to levy contributions from the locals.

The ship set sail with a favorable wind and encountered both good and bad weather along the way. After rounding Cape San Antonio, she was within seventy leagues of Havana when she was wrecked in a fierce storm. The Franciscan monks, captain Avalos, and many others drowned; only a few managed to save themselves in a boat or by clinging to debris and drifting ashore.

The survivors soon spread the news throughout Cuba that Cortes and his army were still alive. The legal advisor Pedro Lopez, who had also survived, hurried to St. Domingo and told the royal court all about Cortes’ Honduras expedition and how he was currently in Truxillo, subduing the region. He added that the troops were sorely lacking in supplies, wine, and horses; that a ship carrying gold had been sent to Cuba to buy these things, but had wrecked off its coast, and that he himself had barely survived.

News that Cortes was still alive and well brought widespread joy, as everyone had believed he and his entire army had died in Honduras. From Hispaniola, this happy news also reached New Spain, where news of his death had been taken as fact. In St. Domingo, the urge to profit was soon stirred up, and two ships were quickly sent to Truxillo, loaded with horses, shirts, military caps, and Spanish trinkets. Unfortunately, these merchants neglected to send any food, and included just one barrel of wine.

Cortes remained at Truxillo, busy with various regulations. During this time, some inhabitants of the Guanajas islands came to complain about a ship anchored near their village. This ship, they said, was full of Spaniards, all armed with muskets and crossbows, who seemed to be planning to carry off the villagers as slaves. They believed these were pirates—the same ones who had visited their land years before and had forcefully taken away many of their people.

Upon hearing this, Cortes quickly outfitted one of his brigantines with its largest cannon and sent twenty men under a good officer to capture the strange ship and its crew. The Indians promised to join with their canoes and lead the brigantine to where the ship was anchored.

When the strange vessel saw a well-armed brigantine and a flotilla of canoes approaching, they quickly realized what was happening, weighed anchor, and fled at full speed, escaping the brigantine’s pursuit. We later learned that this ship was commanded by bachiller Moreno, whom the royal court in St. Domingo had sent on a mission to Nombre de Dios, and who had either been blown off course or had deliberately come to these islands to take a cargo of slaves.

## CHAPTER CLXXXIV. {.chapter}
*How Sandoval, during our stay at Naco, captures forty Spanish soldiers with their captain, who, on their way from the province of Nicaragua, had been plundering and abusing the inhabitants.*

While Sandoval was staying at Naco, working to peacefully subdue the local areas, four caziques arrived at our camp from Quecuscapa and Tanchinalchapa, complaining bitterly about some Spaniards who, they said, had horses and were armed like us. These men plundered the locals, taking all their property, and even carried off their wives and daughters in iron chains.

You can imagine how angry Sandoval was at this news. When he asked the caziques how far away their towns were, they told him it was only a day’s journey. He instantly set out with sixty of us, all well-armed, and we reached the towns before the Spaniards knew we were coming. As soon as they saw us, they armed themselves, but our approach was so sudden that we captured most of them and their captain without any bloodshed. Sandoval, as the saying goes, gave them a good dressing down, asking if they thought this was how his majesty's subjects should be treated, or if they believed their actions were worthy of making conquests in his majesty’s name. He ordered the prisoners—men and women alike—to be released and returned to the caziques of these towns; the prisoners had been chained by their necks.

We marched back to Naco with our Spanish prisoners and their captain, whose name was Pedro de Garro. Almost all of these men had horses, and were followed by many Indian women from Nicaragua, some of whom were remarkably beautiful, along with many female slaves to serve them. In contrast, we, who had endured so many hardships during this expedition, had none of these comforts and, compared to our ragged state, these Spaniards looked like wealthy noblemen. When we arrived in Naco, Cortes housed each of them according to their rank and position, since several were men of status and quality.

When these men found out we were part of Cortes' army, their captain, Garro, did all he could to win over Sandoval and the rest of us, declaring that they were delighted to be with us. As for their presence in the area, they explained it this way.

Pedro Arias de Avila was governor of Terra Firma, and had sent Francisco Hernandez, one of his top officers, with a significant force of foot soldiers and cavalry, to conquer the provinces of Nicaragua and Leon, which he successfully subdued and colonized. Hernandez, finding himself so successful and so far from Pedro Arias de Avila as to act as he pleased, listened to some bad advisers and entered into a secret alliance with bachiller Moreno (previously mentioned), who had been sent by the royal court of St. Domingo to Terra Firma to investigate Balboa’s death—Balboa, whom Arias de Avila had unjustly executed after marrying his daughter. Moreno urged Hernandez that it would not amount to treason if he tried to secure the governorship of the lands he had conquered—especially since Pedro Arias had behaved so wickedly toward Balboa, who rightfully should have been named adelantado of these lands as the first petitioner to the king. Francisco Hernandez accepted this advice and sent his chief officer, Pedro de Garro, to the northern provinces to find a suitable harbour to found a colony and report to the king on the lands he had conquered; he fully believed he would succeed, as these territories were so far from Terra Firma.

Sandoval and Garro had several private discussions about this; in the end, Sandoval wrote to Cortes in Truxillo, asking him to recommend Hernandez as governor of Nicaragua. To deliver the letter, he sent five of our company along the coast, along with five of Garro’s men, and twenty of Garro’s Indians to help them across the rivers. But they were unsuccessful, as both the Pichin river and the Balama river were too swollen to cross, so they returned to Naco after two weeks. Sandoval was greatly irritated by this, and harshly rebuked the officer in charge of the group. Then he ordered captain Luis Marin, with ten of us and five of Garro’s men, to go overland to Truxillo. I was also instructed to go with Luis Marin, and we all set off on foot. We crossed many hostile towns; if I were to describe all the battles we fought, the hardships, the rivers and lagoons we crossed—sometimes swimming, sometimes in canoes—and the hunger we endured for days, I would take too long. Some days, we crossed three raging rivers by swimming or by canoe. As we approached the coast, we had to cross arms of the sea full of alligators, and when we reached the river Xaqua, forty miles from Triunfo de la Cruz, it took us two whole days to get across by canoe. There we saw the remains of seven horses that had belonged to Oli’s troops. At last we reached Triunfo de la Cruz, where we found only the timbers of some wrecked ships. We pressed on for another four days and arrived at the town of Guemara, whose people rose up with arms against us. These Indians carried long, heavy lances and used them just like ours, with a shield strapped to the left arm. They came out in force and we had to fight hand to hand; after a short but fierce clash, we broke through their ranks with only two of our men wounded. They attacked us because they thought we weren’t Cortes’ men, but another band like those who had previously plundered them.

Two more days brought us near Truxillo. It was about vespers when we saw five men riding by the shore, one of whom was our general. He recognized us from a distance, spurred his horse, and rode up to us. He immediately dismounted, embraced us with tears in his eyes, exclaiming, “O, my companions and brothers, how I have longed to see you, and to hear news of you!”

Cortes looked very unwell, and we were truly saddened to see him so. He had been stricken with a violent fever that had nearly killed him, and was especially downcast as he had heard nothing about the state of affairs in Mexico. Some of our men even told me his Franciscan burial gown had been prepared as they expected his death.

After the first greetings, Cortes walked with us to Truxillo, where we were shown to our quarters and then invited to supper with him. The meal was very humble, as there wasn’t even cassava bread. At table, he read to us Sandoval’s letter, and promised that he would do all he could for Francisco Hernandez.

Three days earlier, as I’ve mentioned, two small ships from St. Domingo had arrived in Truxillo, but unfortunately with no real food—just a barrel of wine. It would almost have been better if these ships hadn’t come, for we all fell into heavy debt buying clothes and Spanish trinkets.

As we were still talking with Cortes, someone came running in with the news that another ship was sailing for the harbour. This ship was from Havana, and had been sent by the licentiate Zuazo, whom Cortes had made alcalde-mayor of Mexico. Zuazo sent some supplies, and a letter with important news, which I will recount as fully as I can in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CLXXXV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes receives a letter from the licentiate Zuazo from Havana, and its contents.*

After the ship had anchored, the captain, who was a man of distinction, came ashore, announced his arrival to Cortes, and delivered a letter from the licentiate Zuazo. The grief this letter caused our general was so intense that he was heard sobbing loudly in his quarters, and he did not show himself again until the next morning, which was a Sunday. The previous night, he confessed to Father Juan, and requested that mass be held very early in the morning, after which he took communion. Once mass was said, he gathered us all and shared the news regarding the affairs of New Spain that he had just received.

First, we learned that on merely hearing rumors that we had perished in the expedition to Honduras, our property had been seized and sold to the highest bidders, and our Indians had been distributed to people who least deserved them.

We then heard news from Diego de Ordas and Cortes’ own father, Martin Cortes, about the slanderous letters the accountant Albornoz had sent to His Majesty against Cortes, and the commands the emperor had issued in response to the admiral of St. Domingo; and how the Duke of Bejar had, for a while, managed to scatter the storm gathering over our general’s head. At the same time, those gentlemen mentioned that Captain Narvaez had been authorized by His Majesty to conquer the lands along the river Palmas; that a certain Nuño de Guzman was now governor of the province of Panuco; and, notably, that Cortes’ great enemy, the Bishop of Burgos, had died.

As for the affairs in New Spain, they were in a dreadful state of disorder. When the factor Gonzalo Salazar and the veedor Pedro Almindez Chirinos arrived in Mexico from Guacasualco with their credentials—which empowered them to assume the government if the treasurer Alonso de Estrada and accountant Albornoz began to govern poorly—they joined forces with the licentiate Zuazo, alcalde-mayor of Mexico, Rodrigo de Paz, alguacil-mayor, Andreas de Tapia, Jorge de Alvarado, and all the veteran Conquistadors then in the city. When they thought their party strong enough, they presented their commissions and claimed they alone were the true governors, and that neither the treasurer nor accountant should have any say in the government. This caused fierce factions within the city, resulting in a pitched battle where many were killed on both sides.

In the end, the factor and the veedor gained control and imprisoned their two rivals and several of their supporters. Still, this did not suppress the opposing party, and daily conflicts continued, as the populace grew more embittered against the new governors, who gave Indians as encomiendas to their cronies and other unworthy men. Soon enough, even the victorious party quarreled among themselves. Zuazo was obstructed in all his official duties, and Rodrigo de Paz was even imprisoned for supporting him. Rodrigo had tried his best to make peace between the four claimants to the governorship, and had briefly succeeded, but this lasted only eight days before hostilities broke out again.

Around this time, the provinces of the Zapotecs and Minxes, and the well-fortified town of Coatlan, revolted again. Veedor Chirinos marched against them in person, with some Spanish soldiers, most of whom had recently arrived from Spain and were unfamiliar with fighting Indians. This campaign strained the royal treasury, and the camp was infamous for nothing but excess and gambling; meanwhile, the veedor kept for himself the money meant for the Indians in exchange for their provisions. The inhabitants of Coatlan, finding the Spaniards careless, launched a surprise night attack, killing some men and wounding many others. In response, the factor sent Andreas de Monjaraz—one of Cortes’ officers and a loyal supporter—to aid the veedor, but Monjaraz was so severely ill with groin swellings that he could barely move. The Indians continued to win, and there were fears the Mexicans themselves would revolt. Yet, despite these troubles, the factor’s greatest effort was in sending as much gold as possible to His Majesty and the comendador-mayor of Leon, Don Francisco de las Cobas, hoping to earn their favor, especially as the rumor spread that Cortes and all of us had been killed by the Indians at Xicalango.

During all of this, Diego de Ordas, whom Cortes had sent to Spain, returned to Mexico, having been, as already mentioned, greatly honored by the king. Observing the chaos and looming anarchy, he allied himself with the factor and declared he would personally travel to the coast of Honduras to find out what had really happened to Cortes. He outfitted a large vessel and a brigantine, sailing to Xicalango, where—as I related earlier—Simon de Cuenca and Francisco de Medina and all their men had perished. The information Ordas gathered there confirmed all the rumors of our complete destruction. He therefore returned to New Spain and sent word from his ship, without going ashore, to the factor, stating that there was now no doubt that Cortes and all those who accompanied him had perished. He then sailed directly to Cuba to buy cattle and horses.

The factor, after receiving Ordas’ report, made it public, after which all of Cortes’ old soldiers and friends went into mourning, and even a tomb was erected for him in the main church of Mexico. The factor then, with trumpet and drum, had himself declared governor and captain-general of New Spain. He further ordered the wives of those supposedly lost with Cortes to pray for their husbands’ souls and to remarry—all of which was also announced in Guacasualco and other towns. He even had the wife of Alonso Valiente publicly whipped as a witch in the streets of Mexico because she refused to remarry, insisting that Cortes and all of us were still alive and would soon return, for, as she said, we veteran Conquistadors were of a different sort from those under the veedor at Coatlan, who let the Indians make war on them instead of the other way around. The veedor soon surrounded himself with unworthy flatterers, who supported all his actions. One Spaniard, whom we had always considered honorable (though I will not mention his name), even went so far as to tell the factor—before several witnesses—that as he walked by the Tlatelulco, near the church of Santiago, on the very site of Huitzilopochtli’s great temple, he saw the souls of Cortes, Doña Marina, and Sandoval burning in blue flames in a courtyard nearby. He claimed the sight scared him so badly it made him ill.

Another Spaniard, whose name I will also withhold because we once held him in high esteem, told the factor a similar story, saying evil spirits were seen moving about the main squares of Tezcuco, which the Indians said were the souls of Cortes and Doña Marina. All these were, of course, shameful lies, invented to flatter the factor—or perhaps spread by the factor himself.

Around this time, Francisco de las Casas and Gil Gonzalez de Avila arrived in Mexico—the same officers who, as mentioned earlier, ordered the execution of Christobal de Oli at Naco. Las Casas, seeing the disorder and the factor’s self-appointment as governor, publicly stated that this behavior was wrong and none of it should have been allowed, since Cortes might still be alive. Even if he was dead—which God forbid—the government should pass to a higher-ranking and more distinguished noble, such as Pedro de Alvarado, whom he believed should be called to take charge. Alvarado’s brother, and even the treasurer and several other Mexico City residents, actually wrote to Pedro de Alvarado, urging him to march to Mexico with as many troops as he could gather, promising to help proclaim him governor until Cortes’ fate was clear and His Majesty had appointed a successor. Alvarado started his march to Mexico, but turned back when he heard the factor threatened to execute him, and had already hanged Rodrigo de Paz and imprisoned Zuazo.

Shortly before this, the factor gathered all the gold he could and prepared to send it, with secret dispatches, to Spain through his most trusted confidant, a certain Pennas. This was opposed by Las Casas, Zuazo, Rodrigo de Paz, the treasurer, and accountant, who argued it was wrong to inform the king of Cortes’ death before they knew for sure—and insisted the emperor should only receive the customary royal fifths, jointly sent with their consent, not just in the factor’s name. As the gold was aboard a ship about to leave for Spain, Las Casas, by Zuazo’s authority and in agreement with Rodrigo de Paz and the other royal officers, hurried to the coast to detain the ship until a truthful report of New Spain’s situation could be prepared for His Majesty. To stop them and further his own interests, the factor imprisoned Las Casas and Zuazo. He also started a criminal lawsuit against Las Casas and Gonzalez de Avila for the execution of Christobal de Oli; both were found guilty and sentenced to decapitation, which nearly took place—only their fervent efforts won them an appeal to the king. As a result, the factor sent them as prisoners to Spain, and to get rid of Zuazo, sent him by mule to Vera Cruz, and put him on a ship to Cuba, which he claimed was Zuazo’s proper home since he’d previously served as judge there. But the unfortunate Rodrigo de Paz suffered most: he was shackled in irons and tortured to reveal the location of Cortes’ hidden gold and silver, which the factor insisted he must know as Cortes’ major-domo. The factor claimed he wanted to send this treasure to the king, whom Cortes had supposedly robbed, but when Rodrigo denied knowing anything (whether truthfully or not), the factor tortured him, pouring boiling oil over his feet, and after exhausting other torments and imprisonments, finally had him hanged as a rebel so he could never accuse the factor of abuse. The factor also issued orders to arrest most soldiers and residents of Mexico who remained loyal to Cortes. Seeing the danger, these people, led by Jorge de Alvarado and Andreas de Tapia, took refuge in the Franciscan monastery, knowing their forces were too small to resist. Most veteran Conquistadors were with Cortes in Honduras, and many others in Mexico had sided with the factor, having been won over with lucrative positions. Still, the factor feared the Mexico City residents might revolt and spark a desperate struggle, so he removed all weapons from the arsenal and had them brought to his palace, stationing all the fortress’s cannon, as well as those guarding the harbor, in front. He put Don Luis de Guzman, a relative of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, in charge of the artillery, and appointed a personal bodyguard composed of men like Gines Nortes, Pedro Gonsalez Sabiote, and others of Cortes’ soldiers—a certain Artiaga was named their captain.

Zuazo advised our general to be extremely cautious if returning in person to New Spain, warning that things had grown even worse; for example, the factor had written to the king claiming a stamp was found in Cortes’ office which he used to mark gold secretly brought by the Indians, to evade the royal fifth.

To give Cortes an idea of Mexico’s mood, Zuazo gave an example: a Spaniard from Guacasualco visited Mexico to apply for the property of a deceased settler. There, he stayed with a Spanish woman who had remarried, thinking her first husband was dead with Cortes. He scolded her for it, insisting Cortes and all of us were still alive. This was reported to the factor, who immediately sent four bailiffs to drag him, bound hand and foot, to prison. He would have been executed for inciting rebellion, but the man, Gonsalo Hernandez, swore he had just said it to console the woman, who still mourned her first husband. He then insisted—even falsely—that he was now sure we all were dead, having received reliable news of it. This confession resolved the matter; he was given the property but was ordered to leave Mexico immediately, and warned under threat of death not to mention Cortes being alive again.

Zuazo also told us about the sad death of the excellent Father Olmedo, who died soon after Cortes left Mexico; the whole population grieved for this holy man. He was buried in the church of Santiago, and the Indians fasted from his death until his funeral. The Franciscans delivered a beautiful eulogy, listing his many virtues and declaring that the emperor owed him as much as us, the veteran Conquistadors, for conquering New Spain. Even more, they praised him for converting the Indians to God and showing them the path to heaven, noting that he alone had baptized over 2,500 natives. They said his good deeds and advice were without end, and that he was a father to the poor. In short, Zuazo concluded, all is lost in Mexico; and so things stood when I was thrown on a mule and sent in chains to the place where I am writing my letter.

When Cortes finished reading this letter to us, our grief and anger knew no bounds; nor did we hold back in our condemnation of the man who, in addition to the hardships and struggles we faced, brought this misfortune upon us. We cursed Cortes and the factor, and everyone voiced their opinions openly. Cortes himself broke down in tears again, shutting himself in with the letter for half a day, refusing to see anyone. When he finally emerged, we all proposed that he immediately set sail with the three ships in the harbor for New Spain. He replied, with much feeling, as follows: “O! my sons and companions, with so worthless a person as the factor, one must use the utmost caution. Right now, he controls the government and is wicked enough—if he managed to capture us—to put us all to death. So I intend, with God’s help, to sail with only four or five gentlemen and land somewhere our arrival will not be immediately known in Mexico, not until we can enter the capital with a sizable force. Besides, Sandoval is in Naco with too few troops for you all to leave him; so, Luis Marin, you must rejoin him with your small detachment and instruct him to begin his march as soon as possible through the province of Guatemala towards Mexico.”

Our general then wrote to Captain Francisco Hernandez, who was at Nicaragua, offering to advance his interests however he could, and sent him two mules loaded with horseshoes—which he knew Hernandez needed badly—a quantity of farming tools, some fine clothing, and four beautiful pieces of plate, as well as several gold ornaments. With these gifts, Cabrera, one of Garro’s men who had joined us at Truxillo, was sent to Hernandez’s camp. Cabrera was a nobleman from Old Castile, an excellent and strong officer who later gained great renown as a captain under Benalcazar. He eventually became quartermaster-general for Blasco Nuñez Vela, and fell in the same battle as the viceroy.

Seeing that Cortes was set on returning to New Spain by water, I begged him earnestly to let me accompany him, reminding him that in every danger and battle I had never left his side, and had always worked faithfully to achieve his aims; and that now, he had the chance to show he valued my service. After I finished speaking, Cortes embraced me and said, “If I take you with me, my son, who will stay with Sandoval? Please remain with your friend—I swear by my beard to reward you, and I promise I’ll never forget your service.” In short, no matter what I said, he refused to let me join him.

While we were still at Truxillo, a cavalier named Rodrigo Mannueca tried to cheer up Cortes, who was very downcast, and really needed cheering up; so he and several cavaliers, in full armor, suddenly climbed onto the roof of a house the Indians had newly built. But this bit of fun ended in tragedy for Mannueca. The house stood on a hill, and Mannueca fell through the roof, broke his ribs, and died soon after from his injuries.

Other troubles also grieved our general, notably that several town cavaliers, displeased with the assignments he gave them, openly refused to obey, and he could only get them to settle by promising they could go with him to Mexico, where he would grant them honorable posts.

He then ordered Diego de Godoy, whom he’d appointed commandant of Puerto de Caballos, to go to Naco with those inhabitants who were in ill health and could not remain at the former post because of overwhelming swarms of mosquitoes and flies. The rest of us, led by Luis Marin, were to march overland to Mexico, aiming to pass through the province of Nicaragua, which our general planned to petition the king to add to New Spain.

We took leave of Cortes as he was about to embark for Mexico, and ourselves set off in good spirits for Naco, happy to be heading home to New Spain. After much hardship and hunger, we arrived safely in Naco, to Sandoval’s great joy. Pedro de Garro and all his men had already left for Nicaragua to update Captain Hernandez about his arrangement with Sandoval. We wasted no time but broke camp for Mexico the morning after reaching Naco.

I will not tire the reader with the details of our march, but will instead share the sad fate of Francisco Hernandez.

## CHAPTER CLXXXVI. {.chapter}
*How Pedro Arias de Avila is warned by two confidants that Francisco Hernandez was secretly communicating with Cortes, and planning independence—and what Arias did in response.*

Among Francisco Hernandez’s troops were two soldiers, Garavita and Zamorano, who were devoted to Pedro Arias, governor of Terra Firma. When they saw the gifts Cortes sent Hernandez, and noticed his secret meetings with Garro and certain officers, they suspected Hernandez planned to give the province of Nicaragua to Cortes. They rushed to report their suspicions to Arias. Garavita was especially zealous, fueled by an old grudge against our general: years before, in St. Domingo, they’d fought over a woman, and Garavita had come out badly beaten.

Upon hearing this, Arias marched in person with a large force to Nicaragua, where he immediately arrested Hernandez. Pedro de Garro, wisely, did not wait for Arias and found refuge with us. Hernandez might have done the same, but, trusting his past friendship with Arias, felt sure the latter would treat him mercifully. Arias, however, ignored former friendship, put him on trial, and—finding it proven that Hernandez meant to declare independence—sentenced him to be beheaded, which sentence he carried out in the very town Hernandez had only recently founded. That was the unhappy result of Pedro Garro’s deal with Cortes, and of the splendid gifts Cortes had sent!

## CHAPTER CLXXXVII. {.chapter}
*How Cortes, after setting sail, was twice forced to return to the port of Truxillo; and what followed.*

Cortes, after setting sail from Truxillo twice, was both times forced to return; first because of a terrible storm, and a second time when the foremast snapped in two. Our general, suffering both in body and mind, and badly struck by seasickness, decided to postpone the voyage to Mexico for a more favorable time—especially fearing the factor in Mexico might arrest and imprison him. After putting back the second time to Truxillo, he requested Father Juan, who had sailed with him, to say the Mass of the Holy Spirit, conduct a solemn procession, and pray to God and the Holy Virgin Mary for guidance—that he might know which path best served the holy cause of God. Thus inspired, he resolved not to leave the province for now, but rather to continue its colonization. He sent three couriers to us with urgent orders to halt our march to Mexico and continue with the conquest of the country, insisting that his guardian angel had warned him to do so.

When we heard these orders, we were nearly beside ourselves with rage; we heaped curses on the man, who, abandoned by his former good fortune, was now leading us to ruin. We told Sandoval to his face he could stay here if he wished, but we would not; we were determined not to be ruined and intended to push on to Mexico. Sandoval agreed we were right, but asked us to wait a little longer so he could go in person to Truxillo and try to persuade Cortes to embark for Mexico.

We then drafted a letter, which every one of us signed, and sent it to Cortes with the same couriers who’d brought his orders. His reply arrived quickly, full of promises for those willing to stay—but the top of his letter bore this: “I only tell those unwilling to obey my orders that there are plenty of soldiers in Spain.”

After reading this, we were ready to disregard him entirely and continue to Mexico. But Sandoval pleaded so earnestly, and with so much warmth, that we have patience for a few more days while he rode to Truxillo to try to persuade Cortes, that we agreed to write another letter. In it, we asked Cortes to consider our situation and remember that all our troubles were due to this expedition. Our property had been auctioned and our Indians given to others for his sake. Many of us, with families in New Spain, hadn’t heard from them in all this time. We begged him to return to Mexico without delay. As for his taunt about there being “plenty of soldiers in Spain,” we replied that there were also plenty of governors and renowned captains in Mexico ready to welcome us back and restore our Indians, so we were not exactly dependent on his good will.

With this letter Sandoval set out for Truxillo, accompanied by Pedro de Sauzedo the snub-nosed, and Francisco Donaire the blacksmith. As he mounted his motilla, Sandoval made a solemn oath that he would do all he could to persuade Cortes to leave for Mexico.

Since I’ve mentioned Sandoval’s motilla, I should say a few words about that magnificent horse. It was exceptionally well trained for war, dark chestnut in color, and so beautifully proportioned that nothing in New Spain equaled it. Its fame even reached the emperor, and Sandoval later presented it to him. Speaking of horses, I remember Sandoval once proposed exchanging one of his for mine, which was also a fine warhorse; I had paid Avalos, Saavedra’s brother, 600 pesos for it, after losing my previous one at the battle for Zulaco—again, for 600 pesos. I accepted Sandoval’s proposal, and we made the exchange; but soon after, my new horse was killed in action. I was left only with a miserable young colt, bought from the merchants who had come to Truxillo with the two aforementioned vessels.

Before leaving, Sandoval spoke to us warmly and appointed Luis Marin commander during his absence. We settled ourselves in the Marayani villages, then in the large township of Acalteca, to await Sandoval’s return. When Cortes read our letter, he seemed greatly troubled—especially since all his troops, under his cousin Saavedra, were out fighting Indians who had rebelled and refused further obedience. Sandoval, Pedro Sauzedo, and Father Juan—all eager to return to Mexico—could say what they liked; it was all for nothing. Our general stubbornly refused to leave.

## CHAPTER CLXXXVIII. {.chapter}
*How Cortés sends one of his servants, named Martín de Orantes, to Mexico with letters to Francisco de las Casas and Pedro de Alvarado, empowering them to assume the chief government of New Spain; and, in their absence, confers the same authority on Estrada and Albornoz.*

As Cortés could not be persuaded to return himself to New Spain and was determined to continue colonizing the region around Truxillo, though he could accomplish little more there, he and Sandoval finally agreed to send Martín de Orantes, one of Cortés’s household officers, to Mexico. Orantes was an exceptionally shrewd and capable man, trusted with matters of great importance. Cortés provided him with documents authorizing Pedro de Alvarado and Francisco de las Casas, if they were present in Mexico, to assume the chief government of New Spain until his own return. If they were not there, the power would then pass to the treasurer Alonso de Estrada and the accountant Albornoz. At the same time, Cortés excluded the factor and veedor from any share in the government, though he wrote friendly letters to Estrada and Albornoz, despite knowing well how the latter had slandered him to His Majesty. He also sent letters to all those Conquistadores whom he knew to be his supporters. Orantes himself captained the vessel that would carry him. He was instructed to land in a certain bay between Vera Cruz and Panuco, with orders that only he should go ashore and that the ship should immediately return upon his landing. The pilot and sailors were bound to this by a solemn oath and were generously rewarded to ensure their compliance.

The best of the three ships in the harbor was outfitted for this mission, and after Orantes and the crew attended mass, he set sail with a favorable wind. Divine providence favored their journey, so the vessel reached the designated bay as planned, and Orantes went ashore immediately as instructed. After offering prayers for his safe arrival, he disguised himself as a laborer and set out on foot for Mexico. Taking the precaution to hide his documents close to his skin and being a skilled walker, he made rapid progress, soon reaching several Indian villages where a few Spaniards also resided. He avoided contact with them as much as possible to avoid recognition, as he had been gone two years and three months and had grown his beard in that time. If asked, he told anyone who inquired that his name was Juan de Flechilla, and that he was a poor laborer. In this fashion, he travelled unrecognized and made such haste that he arrived in Mexico on the fourth day after landing. It was nighttime when he entered the city, and he immediately sought refuge in the cloister of the Franciscans, where many friends of Cortés had fled from the persecutions of the factor. Among the principal figures were Jorge de Alvarado, Andreas de Tapia, Juan Nuñez de Mercado, Pedro Moreno Medrano, and several other veteran Conquistadores.

When these men recognized Orantes and learned that Cortés was alive and had entrusted him with letters, they were nearly overcome with joy, leaping about the room like madmen. Even the Franciscan brothers, including Brother Toribio Motolinia and Brother Domingo Altamirano, joined in the celebration and offered fervent prayers of thanks to God for the good news. All doors of the cloister were promptly barred, and no one allowed to leave, since there were some present who could not be fully trusted. Around midnight, Estrada the treasurer and Albornoz the accountant, among other adherents of Cortés, were quietly summoned; all hurried in secrecy to the cloister. The commissions Orantes had brought were read aloud, and all present unanimously agreed that their first action should be to arrest the factor. The entire night was spent in discussion and confiding the plan to those deemed trustworthy; necessary arms were prepared and, at daybreak, a sudden attack against the factor’s palace was planned. Fortunately, the veedor was still stationed with the troops in Coatlan, so little opposition was expected. At dawn, the supporters of Cortés left the cloister together, led by Orantes to make his presence known, advancing to the factor’s residence and shouting: “*Long live the emperor, and in his imperial name Hernán Cortés, who yet lives and will soon return! I, his servant Orantes, have come to announce his approach.*”

When the people heard this alarm so early in the morning, they quickly armed themselves, supposing their aid was needed for His Majesty’s service. Upon recognizing Orantes and learning that Cortés was alive, they joined Estrada’s cause in great numbers. Albornoz, however, although appointed joint governor by Cortés, showed little zeal, and expressed himself so ambiguously that Estrada had to remind him of a few facts to bring him around.

When they reached the factor’s residence, he was already on guard, having been secretly warned by Albornoz of the impending action. The artillery, under Don Luis de Guzman, a nephew of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, was loaded and ready, and the factor’s guards, commanded by Captain Artiaga, Gines Nortes, and Pedro Gonsalez, were prepared to resist. But Jorge de Alvarado and his confederates were not intimidated, forcing entry from several sides, with some even climbing onto the roof. Cannons were fired, but Guzman and his artillerymen aimed in different directions; Artiaga hid, and Gines Nortes fled. In the end, the factor was left with Pedro Sabiote and four servants. Realizing his men had deserted, he grabbed a match to fire a cannon himself, but the confederates rushed him so quickly that he was forced to surrender. He was placed under strong guard until a cage of heavy beams could be built, in which he was securely confined.

Thus ended his authority. Couriers were sent to every town in New Spain with the news. This change was welcomed by some, but those who had received grants from the factor were displeased; when news of the factor’s downfall reached the camps at Coatlan and Oaxaca, the veedor became so alarmed that he fell ill, placed Monjaraz (who was suffering from a severe illness) in command, and sought refuge in the Franciscan cloister at Tezcuco. The new governors immediately dispatched officers to apprehend him; learning of his whereabouts, they entered the cloister and took him prisoner to Mexico, where he was confined in a similar cage.

Couriers were then sent to Guatemala to inform Alvarado of the fall of the factor and veedor. Since the province he occupied was not far from Truxillo, the confederates also sent him letters to be forwarded to Cortés, describing how the matter had been handled and urging Alvarado to hurry to Mexico. He was asked to travel in person to Truxillo and impress upon Cortés the need for prompt return. Estrada’s first act was to restore honor to Juana de Mansilla, who, as readers may recall, was whipped through the streets of Mexico by the factor on a charge of witchcraft. To honor her, Estrada ordered all the cavaliers to mount their horses, placed Juana Mansilla on his own horse behind him, and led a procession through every street of the city. “This woman,” he said, “has conducted herself like a Roman matron of old, and the outrage she suffered from the factor should now raise her estimation among all honest people.” Indeed, she could hardly be honored enough for her virtue, and henceforth was always called Doña Juana de Mansilla. The factor could never persuade her to remarry, and despite all his persecutions, she steadfastly maintained her husband and all of us were still alive.

## CHAPTER CLXXXIX. {.chapter}
*How the treasurer, with other cavaliers, asks the Franciscan monks to send Father Diego de Altamirano, a relative of Cortés, to Truxillo to urge our general to hasten his return to Mexico.*

The treasurer and other cavaliers loyal to Cortés soon realized that it was essential for our general to return to New Spain without delay, for opposition against him was growing, especially since Albornoz was unreliable. Albornoz, from the beginning, had strongly disapproved of imprisoning the factor and veedor, primarily because he feared Cortés might learn of his secret slanders against him in letters to the emperor. Cortés’s followers thus felt there was not a moment to lose and asked the Franciscan monks to send Father Diego de Altamirano to Truxillo. For this purpose, they had a vessel ready, manned with the best crew. They chose Father Diego because he was a relative of Cortés and, having once been a soldier, was considered practical and capable. Altamirano accepted the mission at once, and the other monks readily consented to his departure.

Matters were daily growing more dangerous in Mexico. As noted earlier, Albornoz had a dubious reputation and strongly opposed the recent changes; the factor also still had supporters, men he had won over with gold and generous grants. These individuals conspired with other important men to murder the treasurer and his supporters and free the factor and veedor from their cages. When Albornoz was let in on this plot, he was reportedly delighted.

The conspirators recruited a locksmith named Guzman, a poor man with a quick wit, and swore him to secrecy. They tasked him with making a key to unlock the cages, giving him a large piece of gold to secure his loyalty. He pretended eagerness, asking for full details of their plans, the people involved, and the timing of the uprising. After learning all he needed, he crafted a key that would not open the locks, so the conspirators had to keep returning it to his shop. This allowed him to learn more with each visit. When the conspirators were ready to begin their attack and only waited for the key, the locksmith revealed the plot to Estrada.

Not saying a word to Albornoz, the treasurer assembled all of Cortés’s faction and led them to the conspirators’ gathering place, where twenty men were quickly arrested while the rest escaped in haste. The prisoners were tried and it was clearly proven they had planned to murder the treasurer and free the imprisoned leaders. It was discovered that Albornoz knew of the plot, and that among the ringleaders were several notorious agitators from the earlier disturbances in Mexico during Cortés’s absence, one of whom had grossly insulted a Spanish lady. Criminal charges were brought against the worst offenders by Bachelor Ortega, the acting mayor of Mexico. All were convicted of sedition: three were sentenced to hanging, others to flogging. The condemned were Pastrana, Valverde, and Escobar; I have forgotten the names of the rest.

The locksmith was afraid to go outside for several days, fearing retaliation from the factor’s adherents.

Although it may seem slightly out of place here, I must note that the factor had already sent a ship to Spain, as described earlier, with gold collected for His Majesty. In his dispatches, he stated as certain that Cortés was dead, exaggerated the confidence placed in himself by the people, and asked the king to appoint him as governor. However, by this same vessel, other letters secretly informed His Majesty of everything that had truly happened in New Spain, including the factor’s tyranny and cruelty. At the same time, the royal court at St. Domingo and the Hieronymite order notified the king that Cortés was alive and busy subduing and colonizing the coast of Honduras. Thus, when the Council of the Indies and the Comendador Mayor of Leon consulted the monarch about New Spain, it is said the emperor replied: “The people of New Spain acted wrongly in rebelling against Cortés and have greatly harmed the interests of the crown; but as Cortés is alive, I trust that upon his return to Mexico he will severely punish the villains who have caused so much disorder.”

Returning to Father Altamirano—he sailed from Vera Cruz and, after a favorable two-day passage, arrived in Truxillo. The townspeople, seeing a large ship on the horizon, immediately assumed it came from New Spain to bring Cortés home. Altamirano disembarked with others and went straight to Cortés, who welcomed them warmly, recognizing several from Mexico. Together, they went to church to give thanks to God.

Upon returning, Altamirano gave a full account of everything that had happened in Mexico. Cortés was deeply troubled by the news, but still thanked God that things were not worse and that peace had been restored. He initially declared that he would return overland, fearing the sea after twice being forced back by storms, and believing himself too infirm for travel by sea. The pilots, however, assured him that April brought calm whether and he would likely have a safe voyage. Persuaded by their advice, Cortés decided to go by sea but would wait for Sandoval's return, having sent him with troops to Olancho, about 600 miles inland, to expel Captain Rojas, who had been sent to search for gold by Pedro Arias after Arias beheaded Francisco Hernandez.

The Indians of Olancho had come all the way to Truxillo to complain to Cortés about the Spaniards in Nicaragua, who, they claimed, invaded their country, looting and abducting their women.

Sandoval, with only sixty men, first intended to arrest Rojas, but reconciliation was achieved through intermediaries, and they parted as friends, with Rojas gifting Sandoval one of his Indian pages. While Sandoval was still there, he received orders from Cortés, with a summary of recent events in Mexico, to return immediately to Truxillo. The news was extremely welcome to Sandoval, who, after settling matters with Rojas, hurried back toward the coast.

Cortés gave Saavedra command over the provinces around Truxillo, with detailed instructions. He also wrote to Luis Marin and the rest of us under his command, informing us of Altamirano’s arrival and ordering us toward Guatemala. Captain Diego de Godoy, previously in charge at Puerto de Caballos, was to move with his men to the province of Naco. The letters for us were entrusted to Saavedra, with instructions for their prompt delivery; yet out of malice he failed to do so and we never received them. Returning to my story: before embarking, Cortés once again became so gravely ill his life was despaired of and he was administered the last rites; nevertheless, he recovered and set out from Truxillo with a considerable retinue. He enjoyed splendid weather all the way to Havana, where he waited for a favorable wind for passage to New Spain. The townspeople welcomed him joyfully and he regained his strength during his stay. While there, encouraging news from Mexico reached him: upon hearing rumors of his return, the Indians of Coatlan voluntarily approached treasurer Estrada and resubmitted themselves as vassals to our emperor.

## CHAPTER CXC. {.chapter}
*Cortés sails from Havana and has a favorable voyage to Vera Cruz, where he is received with great rejoicing.*

After five days in Havana, Cortés grew impatient to be once more in Mexico. He therefore ordered his embarkation without further delay and arrived, after a smooth twelve-day passage, in the port of Medellin opposite the island of Sacrificios, anchoring for the night. Disembarking with twenty of his most trusted soldiers, he planned to march to San Juan de Ulua, only two miles away; by fortunate chance, he met a group of travelers with horses heading for the port to embark for Spain. Cortés took possession of the horses and continued directly to Vera Cruz, about twenty miles away.

On landing, he ordered that no one should go to Vera Cruz ahead of him to announce his arrival. Around two o’clock in the morning, he entered the town and immediately went to the church, which was open. Soon after, the sacristan, recently arrived from Spain, came in and was astonished to see the seats filled with strangers. Alarmed, he hurried outside, called the watch, and summoned the chief authorities. The mayor, magistrates, three alguacils, and several townspeople arrived, armed, and ordered the strangers to leave the church. Cortés, weary from his journey and looking unwell, was not recognized until he spoke. Then, immediately, they recognized Father Juan by his worn white robe. As soon as it became clear that Cortés himself was in their presence, they all rushed to greet him and congratulate him on his safe arrival. Among them were several veteran Conquistadores, whom Cortés warmly greeted by name, embracing them with friendly assurances. Mass was read, and then the authorities escorted Cortés to his quarters in one of the town's finest houses. He remained there eight days, during which festivities were held in his honor, and word of his arrival was sent at once to Mexico. He himself sent letters to treasurer Estrada and to Albornoz, although he knew the latter was unfriendly. If the city rejoiced at the news, so did the Indians of the region, who sent many gifts of gold, cotton, fruit, and poultry. They also cleared the roads for him all the way to Mexico, built huts for his comfort at each stage, and provided abundant provisions. All who could joined his entourage, making his journey to Mexico resemble a triumphal procession. Gifts and provisions came from every direction, and ambassadors from various townships, apologizing that the short notice had prevented more elaborate arrangements, urged him to pass through their towns so as to honor him properly. The Tlascallans, above all, were the most eager to show their loyalty; all their chief caziques came out to meet him, welcoming him with dances, songs, and all manner of celebrations.

Within twelve miles of Tezcuco, nearly as large a town as Mexico, Cortés was met by the accountant Albornoz, who waited there hoping to regain Cortés's favor, fearing his general’s resentment. Along with Albornoz were numerous Spaniards from the area, and the caziques of Tezcuco came out eight miles with performances of dances and games, very much to Cortés’s delight. In Tezcuco itself, more festivities took place, and he spent the night there, though he could have reached Mexico that day. But, at the request of the treasurer, the chief authorities, and the Conquistadores, he delayed entry until the following day to allow for a grander reception.

At dawn, the treasurer, all the city officials, officers of the crown, Conquistadores, and Cortés’s closest friends came to meet him in full dress, with a large band leading the procession. The Mexican caziques followed, adorned in their war costumes, displaying the emblems they had borne under their late monarch Quauhtemoc. They performed all kinds of games in his honor, and the lake was crowded with canoes full of armed Indians—just as in the old days of battle. The celebrations in the city were so many and so grand that any description falls short. There was music and dancing in every street all day, and at night every house was illuminated. Best of all, the next day the Franciscan monks led a solemn procession to the church, and public thanksgivings were offered to God for Cortés’s safe return.

Upon entering the city, Cortés at once went to the cloister to attend mass and give thanks for his survival through all the dangers of his campaign. Only after this did he retire to his palace, built in his absence, a residence truly fit for a king; there he was both courted and feared. Ambassadors from every province brought him gifts, and even the caziques of Coatlan came to pay their respects.

Cortés’ return to Mexico took place in either June 1524 or 1525—I forget which. He remained quiet for several days to rest before taking steps to arrest the troublemakers and investigate the recent conduct of the veedor and the factor. Likewise, Diego de Ocampo, or perhaps Gonzalo de Ocampo (I cannot be sure which), in whose possession slanderous papers against Cortés were found, was imprisoned. The scribe Ocaña, an old man known as the soul of the factor’s cause, met the same fate. Legal proceedings, as they are now termed, were duly brought against these individuals. Cortés could have punished them directly, which would have met with approval in Spain; indeed, His Majesty himself had hoped he would take firm action. I assure readers of this fact, as members of the Council of the Indies told me so in person when I was in Spain in 1540 about lawsuits of my own. Bishop Bartolomé de las Casas was present. All agreed that Cortés had been remarkably lenient on this occasion, showing little of his former resolve.

## CHAPTER CXCI. {.chapter}
*How the licentiate Luis Ponce de Leon, who was commissioned to investigate Cortes’ government of New Spain, arrives in the harbour of San Juan de Ulua.*

I have already mentioned in a previous chapter that the emperor, while staying in Toledo, had commissioned Luis Ponce de Leon to go to Mexico and carry out a formal investigation against Cortes; and if he found him guilty, to punish him so severely that the world would take note. Ponce de Leon had been provided with all the details of the accusations raised against Cortes.

It was some time before he received the required documents, which greatly delayed his departure. Eventually, though, after a favorable voyage, he arrived with three or four ships in the harbour of San Juan de Ulua, where he immediately disembarked and proceeded to the town of Medellin. Since he was open about the purpose of his visit, one of Cortes’ household officers quickly sent word to Cortes regarding the nature of this gentleman's mission, so that Cortes was informed four days after Leon's arrival. When our general received the letters from Villalobos, the officer mentioned above, he happened to be in the Franciscan cloister, making Holy Communion and humbly praying to God for success in his endeavors. This news was particularly unwelcome to him, as Ponce de Leon seemed to be rushing his journey to Mexico, as if he intended not to give Cortes enough time to prepare for his arrival. Nonetheless, he sent some of his most trusted friends to find out more about the newly arrived officials and whether they possessed a proper commission from his Majesty. However, a couple of days after receiving the first news, three couriers arrived from Leon with letters for Cortes; among them was one from the emperor, in which his Majesty informed him that an investigation would be launched against him on various charges. Our general read the emperor’s letter with deep respect, stating that it showed great mercy on the part of his Majesty to send a proper judge so that justice could be done for him against his enemies. Cortes responded to Leon by the same couriers, expressing himself in the most courteous and friendly terms, and also asking him to indicate which route he planned to take to Mexico, so that he could make appropriate preparations for his reception at each stage along the way.

In reply, the licentiate thanked Cortes sincerely for his good wishes, saying he wanted to stay for a few days where he was to rest from the voyage at sea.

While in Medellin, various accusations were brought against Cortes, both in writing and in person, since he had many enemies in Medellin, consisting partly of people who had been with him on the Honduras expedition, partly of those previously exiled from Panuco. In addition, several discontented people in Mexico would have been happy to bring about our general's downfall. The talk was that Cortes was hurrying to conclude the trial of the factor and the veedor before Licentiate Leon could arrive. They urged Leon to be cautious, asserting that Cortes, by his polite and flattering language, only wanted to find out which road Leon would take to Mexico, so that he could have him killed by some means. They accused Cortes of having used the same tactics against Narvaez and Garay. Furthermore, they told Leon that Cortes had caused the deaths of many Spanish soldiers and over 3,000 Mexicans during the Honduras expedition, and that he had left behind there Diego de Godoy, one of his officers, with thirty Spaniards, all sick, who had all perished since. This, we indeed found to be the case. They begged Licentiate Leon to set aside all other concerns, to hurry to Mexico, and to remember what had happened to Narvaez, Garay, and Tapia, all of whom Cortes had welcomed with seeming respect and affection but had managed, one way or another, to force to leave without accomplishing their goals. In short, they maligned our general in every way imaginable, and actually managed to convince Leon that Cortes would not respect his commission.

The licentiate was accompanied by a number of gentlemen, including the alguacil-mayor Proaño of Cordoba and his brother, Salazar de Petraza, who came as the appointed alcalde of Mexico’s fortifications, but soon died of pleurisy; also the bachelor or licentiate Marcos de Aguilar; a soldier named Bocanegra of Cordoba; and several Dominican monks, with their provincial father Thomas Ortiz, who had been prior of a cloister for several years—though I forget where. Most believed he was more suited for secular matters than for religious life. With these associates, Leon held a council about whether he should proceed at once to Mexico, and they were unanimous: he should go there without delay.

The licentiate set out accordingly and arrived in Iztapalapan while Cortes was about to send more couriers with letters and refreshments. Leon and his company were greeted with a grand reception and a lavish banquet, organized with Andreas de Tapia as master of ceremonies. Ponce de Leon enjoyed himself at table and was amazed when fresh cream and cheese were served. He and several of his companions ate so much of these delicacies that some were forced to leave the table, suffering sudden stomach pains. Although the rest experienced no ill effects, father Thomas Ortiz immediately declared the cream had been poisoned, and said he would not touch it. The other gentlemen at the table countered that he had eaten as much as anyone; however, since Tapia managed the event, the new arrivals insisted all was not as it should be.

Cortes himself did not attend the banquet at Iztapalapan, remaining in Mexico, where rumors soon spread that he had sent Leon a large gift of gold bars. Whether this was true I cannot say, though some maintained it was untrue.

Since Iztapalapan was just eight miles from Mexico, Cortes knew the exact hour Leon would arrive, and he went out to meet him, followed by all the cavalry then in Mexico. Immediately around him were Sandoval, Treasurer Alonso de Estrada, Accountant Albornoz, Jorge and Gomez de Alvarado, as well as the chief authorities of the town and many Conquistadores. When Cortes and Leon met on the causeway, they greeted each other with the utmost respect. Leon was quite astonished at our general’s courteous demeanor, and only after much insistence would he accept the place of honor. Entering the city, and seeing the great fortifications and numerous towns around the lake, he declared that no other general with so few troops could have taken this strong city and subdued such a vast region.

The procession then went to the Franciscan cloister, where mass was celebrated. Afterwards, Cortes asked Leon to present his commission, saying that his first request would be that the veedor and factor should be put on trial. Leon asked to postpone this until the next day, after which Cortes led him to his palace, adorned with fine tapestries and a splendid feast. Everything was served on gold and silver, and the arrangement of the table was so remarkable that Leon quietly told his alguacil-mayor Proaño and Bocanegra that Cortes, in both behavior and conversation, seemed every bit a grand señor of many years.

The next day, all convened in the main church. Cortes had ordered all civic officials, crown officers, and Conquistadores to attend. After mass, Leon formally produced his royal commission. Cortes read it with great veneration, kissed it, and declared that as it contained the orders of his emperor and master, he would obey them completely.

Each person present followed Cortes’ example in turn. Leon then asked the alcalde-mayor, the ordinary alcaldes, Hermandad officers, and alguacils to give him their staffs of office, which, once received, he immediately returned to their holders. Addressing Cortes, he said: “Señor capitan, his majesty has ordered that I take over the chief government of New Spain; not because I think you unworthy of this or even greater office, but because our sovereign commands it.”

Cortes thanked him respectfully, assuring him he would always obey his majesty's orders, adding that Leon’s investigation would prove he (Cortes) had always been a loyal and faithful servant, and that his accusers had falsified and slandered him.

The licentiate replied that it was always so in the world—where there were honest people, there were also the opposite; and one must expect praise from some and insults from others. This ended the first day.

The following day, after mass in the palace, Ponce de Leon sent a gentleman with a courteous request for Cortes to visit him. During this conversation—attended only by the two of them and prior Thomas Ortiz—the licentiate said: “First, señor capitan, his majesty has instructed me to bestow lucrative encomiendas on all the veteran Conquistadores: those who first left Cuba to conquer New Spain and Mexico City, as well as those who joined you later and helped in the conquest—though the former are to be favored above the latter. I announce these orders because I’ve learned that, in distributing the Indians, you rewarded several veteran Conquistadores rather poorly, while newcomers from Spain, with little claim, received prime lands. If this is true, it goes against his majesty’s intentions when he made you governor.”

Cortes replied that none of the Conquistadores had gone unrewarded; some fared better than others in the distribution of Indians, but due to unforeseen events he couldn’t be entirely just to all. For that very reason, he welcomed the licentiate’s arrival, hoping all parties would find satisfaction—for the Conquistadores indeed deserved handsome rewards.

The licentiate questioned him about the Honduras expedition, asking which Conquistadores had gone, how they fared, and, especially, what had happened to the thirty or forty men left under Diego de Godoy at Puerto de Caballos to starve. This criticism, unfortunately, was all too well founded, as we shall see shortly; for those men, after enduring the siege of Mexico and helping to conquer New Spain, at the very least deserved to live out their days in peace. Cortes should have taken only the new arrivals from Spain on that expedition.

Ponce de Leon then asked after Captain Luis Marin, Bernal Diaz del Castillo, and the others who accompanied him.

Cortes answered: “It would have been impossible to attempt such a remote and difficult expedition without veterans toughened by military hardships. But you can be assured that the men left behind are on their way to Mexico, that I commend all of them to your consideration, and that they are most deserving of the most lucrative encomiendas.”

The licentiate then, with a more serious tone, asked Cortes: “How could you, without his majesty's permission, have set out on so long and trying an expedition, knowing it would take you so long from your post, nearly resulting in Mexico’s ruin?”

Cortes replied: “As his majesty’s captain-general I felt bound to act; for if I hadn’t intervened, the example of revolt set by Oli would have been followed by other officers. Besides, I had previously announced my intentions to his majesty.”

After this, the licentiate questioned him about the defeat and imprisonment of Narvaez, the seizure of Garay’s ships and troops, Garay’s untimely death, the way Christobal de Tapia was forced to return to Spain, and various other matters I will not enumerate here. To all of which Cortes gave such convincing answers that Ponce de Leon seemed largely satisfied.

As noted above, only father Thomas Ortiz was present during this discussion. No sooner had it ended than Ortiz sought out three close friends and told them in confidence that it was Leon’s intention to sentence Cortes to beheaded, as ordered by his majesty, and that the questions just put to Cortes were for this purpose. The next morning, Ortiz called on our general and said: “Señor capitan, because of my respect for you, my spiritual office, and my order’s rules, it is my duty to warn in cases like this. So I will not hide from you that his majesty has given Leon full authority to put you to death.”

This news seemed to trouble Cortes greatly, especially in light of Leon’s recent questioning. Still, he also knew the monk to be a devious character, not to be trusted. Perhaps Ortiz invented the story, hoping Cortes would ask him to intercede with Leon, and would then reward him handsomely. Some believed Leon himself had privately prompted Ortiz to alarm Cortes and induce him to beg for mercy. However, Cortes thanked Ortiz with courtesy and said, “I have always trusted that his majesty would reward my services to the crown, and I will continue to hope for this, being conscious of my innocence, and confident that Ponce de Leon is not a man to exceed the emperor’s commands.”

Ortiz found himself quite disappointed, unable to hide his confusion. Cortes, however, stayed resolute in his actions and never gave Ortiz a single coin, though the monk had hoped for much more.

## CHAPTER CXCII. {.chapter}
*How the licentiate begins the investigation against Cortes and other office holders; and how he soon fell ill and died.*

Ponce de Leon publicly announced that he would begin an investigation into Cortes and all those who held military or judicial offices. Since Cortes had many enemies—including some with legitimate grievances—old complaints resurfaced, and witnesses were called, turning the entire city into a scene of ceaseless lawsuits. One accused our general of unfair distribution of gold; another complained that, despite his majesty’s order for a fair share of Indians, Cortes overlooked him and granted them instead to the servants of Martin Cortes and the grandees of Spain. Others demanded compensation for horses lost in various campaigns, considering the gold paid insufficient. Finally, several people brought charges for injuries suffered under Cortes’ orders. Yet, scarcely had these inquiries begun when, to our misfortune, it pleased God that Licentiate Leon fell ill.

It appears he had attended mass at the Franciscan cloister, and afterwards was struck with a severe fever, requiring him to be put to bed at once. He was so weakened that he remained unconscious for four days. Despite being attended by Licentiate Pedro Lopez, Dr. Ojeda, and a third physician from Spain, the doctors all agreed from the start that his illness was serious, advising him to confess and receive Holy Communion. Leon complied willingly, received the sacrament humbly, and drew up his will, naming Licentiate Marcos de Aguilar, who had accompanied him from Hispaniola, as his successor in government.

Many argued that Aguilar was not a true licentiate, only a bachelor, and thus not suited for such an appointment. Ponce de Leon, however, thought otherwise, and instructed that all actions and investigations, including criminal cases against the factor and veedor, should remain as they were, pending notification of his majesty about the present situation—a vessel was to be sent immediately to Spain for that purpose.

After setting his affairs in order and fulfilling his religious duties, he died on the ninth day of illness, surrendering his soul to God. His sudden death caused great sorrow and discouragement among all the Conquistadores. They mourned him as a common father, believing it was his true intent to reward and honor all who had served the crown, for which his majesty had given him the authority and instructions. The Conquistadores sincerely mourned his untimely end; even Cortes and most of the gentlemen in Mexico wore mourning for him. He was buried with full ceremony in the Franciscan cloister.

Luis Ponce loved music, and several gentlemen told me that, in his last days, he wished for someone to play guitar at his bedside to cheer him. Even as he neared death, he desired the musician play a dance, and though he was too weak to move his legs, he followed the rhythm with his lips until his final breath.

Cortes’ and Sandoval’s enemies used the occasion to spread new slanders, claiming they had poisoned Leon as they'd done to Garay. The loudest was father Thomas Ortiz, but he and several of his order died of the same illness a few months later. It seemed the ship that brought Leon from Spain carried a sort of pestilential fever: of the hundred or more on board, many died during the voyage, and even more perished shortly after landing in Medellin. Most of the monks likewise died of the disease, and it was said that the sickness spread to Mexico.

## CHAPTER CXCIII. {.chapter}
*How after the death of Ponce de Leon, Marcos de Aguilar assumes the government; the disputes which arose in consequence, and other matters.*

Those of the Conquistadores who were hostile to Cortes wished for the commission of inquiry to be continued, despite Ponce de Leon’s death. However, our general maintained that this could not proceed according to Leon’s last will; though, if Aguilar wished to carry on the inquiry, he had no objection.

At this point, the town council of Mexico raised their own objections, arguing that Leon was not authorized to leave Marcos de Aguilar as sole governor. They felt such an important role required a different sort of man than Aguilar, who, apart from being very advanced in years, was extremely infirm, afflicted with sores, and lacked authority. (I must say his physical appearance was far from prepossessing and showed deficiencies in every way; besides, he was unfamiliar with the country and did not know those who had distinguished themselves by merit.) In short, the council believed no one respected Aguilar, and the office of justice required someone worthy of esteem. They therefore suggested the best course was for him to share the government equally with Cortes until the king’s further instructions arrived.

Marcos de Aguilar, however, was determined to adhere strictly to Leon’s last will, which appointed him sole governor. He declared that he would not submit unless, in direct opposition to the king’s orders, they decided to appoint another governor.

The representatives from all the towns in New Spain urged Cortes by every means to take over the government. They assured him they would persuade Aguilar to agree, especially given Aguilar’s constant illnesses and the evident risk to God’s service and the king’s interests. But no matter what was said to Cortes, he would not accept their proposals, always insisting that old Aguilar had to govern alone.

Aguilar was indeed in rapid decline, so weak that to keep him alive, he had to be nursed by a Spanish woman, and he drank large amounts of goats’ milk. At this time, he also lost one of his sons, who had accompanied him, to the same pestilential fever that hastened Ponce de Leon’s death.

Now, I must step back in my narrative and recount what happened to Captain Luis Marin, who, with his troops, had remained at Naco, waiting to hear from Sandoval whether Cortes had embarked for Mexico. We never received any news from him, as Saavedra, out of pure malice, failed to forward Sandoval’s and Cortes’ letters informing us of their departure and instructing us to march overland. After waiting in vain for some word from Truxillo, Luis Marin, with our full agreement, sent out a few horsemen to that town to learn the situation. Ten of us left Naco, commanded by Francisco Marmolejo. We fought through hostile tribes up to Olancho (now Guayape), known for its lucrative gold mines, when we met two Spanish invalids and a Black man. They told us Cortes had sailed days ago for Mexico, with Sandoval and the other Conquistadores. They added that he had been convinced to depart by widespread requests from the citizens of Mexico, who sent a Franciscan monk to Truxillo to hasten him. Saavedra had been left at Truxillo as commandant, tasked with subduing the surrounding area.

This news filled us with joy, and we immediately sent word through some of Olancho’s inhabitants to Saavedra for more information. Within four days, we received a reply confirming the news. We thanked God and set out at once to rejoin Luis Marin, found in the township of Acalteca, who was thrilled with the news.

Without delay, we broke camp and marched for Mexico. On our way through Mariani, we met six of Alvarado’s men, searching for us. One, Diego de Villanueva, an excellent soldier and veteran Conquistador who had helped found Guatimala and was a native of Villanueva de la Serena in the territory of the grand master of Alcantara’s military order, greeted us warmly. He told us Alvarado was nearby with several cavaliers looking for Cortes, to urge his return to Mexico. He gave us full accounts of local happenings in our absence, explaining how New Spain’s government had been offered to Alvarado, who declined out of fear of the royal factor.

Two days later, we caught up with Alvarado himself, encamped with his men in Choluteca Malalaca. I could hardly describe his delight on hearing that Cortes had left for Mexico, a relief since it spared him and his men further exhausting marches. In this town we also met officers sent by Pedro Arias, named Garavito and Campannon, who said they had been charged by Arias to discover new regions and negotiate boundaries with Alvarado. All of our group, plus the two Arias officers, remained three days in Choluteca. There, Alvarado dispatched Gaspar Arias de Avila (a resident of Guatimala and a close supporter) to Governor Arias, presumably regarding a marriage arrangement.

On the fourth day, we left Choluteca for the province of Guatimala. Before we reached Cuzcatlan, the rainy season set in and we found the Lempa River so swollen it seemed impossible to cross. Our only option was to fell a massive ceiba tree and carve out a canoe of such size as had never been seen there before. Even so, it took five days to get everyone across, during which we suffered terribly from hunger, for we had not a grain of maize left.

After crossing the river, we came to Chapanastec, where the townspeople killed one of our men, Nicuesa, and wounded three more as they were out looking for food. We were not willing to delay, so we let the attack go unpunished. This was in the province where the present town of San Miguel stands. From there we continued into Cuzcatlan territory, whose people were very hostile, yet we found abundant provisions. Next, we encountered townships near Petapa, where the Guatimaltecs ambushed us in deep ravines among steep rocks, and took us three days to force a way through. I myself was slightly wounded by an arrow.

At last, we reached Petapa, and the next day, arrived in a valley we named Fuerto, now the site of Guatimala. At that time, all of Guatimala was up in arms against us, and we had to fight our way across the country. I will never forget the terrible earthquake we experienced here: as we marched along a slope, the ground shook so violently that several of our soldiers fell and could not stand, and the trembling continued for a considerable time. From there the road to Old Guatimala was good, where the two caciques, Sacachul and Cinacan, usually lived. Still, all the Guatimala forces lay in wait in a deep gully near the town, trying to block our entrance; but we soon defeated them with substantial losses, then quartered for the night in the town, which boasted large and beautiful buildings thanks to the caciques who ruled neighboring provinces living there. The next morning we left the town and camped on the plain, building huts. We stayed there for ten days, as Alvarado summoned the people of Guatimala and the nearby towns twice, urging their submission and waiting for a reply. As none came, we broke camp and pushed on with forced marches. We purposely avoided the area where Alvarado had left his brother Gonzalo with the troops, as the whole region had risen in arms. Our next stop was Olintepec, where we paused for several days to rest. From there, we marched to Soconusco and Teguantepec, where, along the way, two of our countrymen and the Mexican cacique Juan Velasquez, former commander under Quauhtemoctzin, died. It was here we first heard of the licentiate Leon’s death—much to our regret, as much was hoped from him and the wise choice the king had made in his person.

Eager to return to Mexico, we sped on. We were eighty in total, under Alvarado’s command, and as soon as we reached Chalco, we sent Cortes word that the next day we intended to enter Mexico. We asked for quarters to be prepared, since after more than two years and three months away, we were almost strangers there. When our arrival at Iztapalapan became known, Cortes, with several cavaliers, came out to meet us along the causeway. The first building we visited was the main church, where we went straightaway to offer our thanks to God for our safe return. After that, Cortes brought us to his palace for a grand meal. Alvarado went to his official lodgings by the fortifications, as he was then alcalde. Sandoval gave Luis Marin a room at his house, and I, with my friend Captain Luis Sanchez, was invited by Andreas de Tapia to stay with him, and we were treated with great respect. Soon after, I received gifts of clothing, gold, and cacao from Sandoval, Cortes, and other old friends. The next day, after attending mass, my friend Luis Sanchez and I visited Governor Marcos de Aguilar, with Sandoval and Tapia accompanying us to advocate for us. They explained who we were and our valuable service to the Crown, and requested Indian encomiendas for us near Mexico, since our existing ones in Guacasualco were of little value.

Marcos de Aguilar kindly promised to do all he could, but explained it was currently impossible for him to grant or take away any encomiendas, as Ponce de Leon’s last will directed that all lawsuits and unassigned encomiendas remain as they were until further notice from the king. He concluded that if and when he received full authority, he would grant us the best encomiendas in the land.

Around this time, Diego de Ordas arrived in Mexico from Cuba. It was rumored he had written the letters the factor sent to Spain, stating that all of us had perished with Cortes on the last expedition. Cortes, Sandoval, and several other cavaliers reproached him for writing such things without certain knowledge, accusing him of almost causing New Spain’s ruin. Ordas swore that he had never written any such letter. He admitted he had been in Xicalango, where two Spanish ships had anchored for a while; a quarrel broke out among the men, there was fighting, and many from both sides were killed, with the survivors massacred by the Indians. He said he had reported only this incident to New Spain—an account that might have led to rumors of our destruction. He assured them the letter could be found among the factor’s documents, to prove what he actually wrote and how the factor must have misused it for his own purposes.

As the factor and veedor remained in close custody, and Cortes, by the arrangements in Leon’s will, could not presently proceed with their prosecution (and was distracted by other matters), he decided to leave the case as it was until the king gave further orders regarding New Spain’s government. At the moment, Cortes was fully occupied reclaiming much of his property, which had been sold to raise money to pay for prayers for his soul in the churches—this being done, maliciously, to make people believe he was dead. All that property, including what was set aside for masses for his soul, was bought by a wealthy Mexico resident, Juan Caceres.

Diego de Ordas, seeing that Cortes had lost much of his former power since Leon’s arrival, and that many no longer showed him proper respect, took advantage of the situation to regain Cortes’ favor. He advised Cortes to adopt the appearance of a grandee, receive visitors seated on a canopied throne, and no longer be addressed simply as Cortes but as Don Hernando Cortes. He also reminded him that the factor was closely aligned with the comendador-mayor Don Francisco de los Cobos, a man of immense influence in Spain: it might be vitally important to have such protection, as the king and the Council of the Indies were deeply prejudiced against him; it would hurt his interests to act more harshly against the factor than the law allowed. Ordas gave this advice since it was widely rumored in Mexico that Cortes planned to execute the factor in prison.

Before continuing, I feel I must explain why, when speaking of Cortes, I never call him Don Hernando Cortes, or marquis, or by any other title, but simply Cortes. The reason is that he himself preferred to be addressed as just Cortes; also, he was not created marquis until later, and at that time the name Cortes was as famed throughout Spain as Julius Caesar or Pompey’s in Rome; Hannibal’s in Carthage; or, in earlier times, the brave knight Diego Garcia de Paredes, and, more recently, Gonzalo Hernandez, known as the Great Captain.

I should also mention that around this time, the treasurer Alonso de Estrada married one daughter to Jorge de Alvarado, and the other to Don Luis de Guzman, son of Don Juan de Saavedra, earl of Castellar. It was also arranged that Pedro de Alvarado himself would travel to Spain to seek the title of governor of Guatimala from the king, and in his absence, his brother Jorge would take command of the province and continue subduing the hostile tribes. Jorge immediately began preparations, taking two hundred Indian allies from Tlascala, Mexico, and other provinces.

Around then, Marcos de Aguilar also sent a cavalier, Don Juan Enriquez de Guzman (a near relative of the Duke of Medina Sidonia), to the province of Chiapa to found a colony there. He sent a similar expedition under Baltasar Osorio, a nobleman from Seville, to Tabasco. A third group, under Alonso Herrera—one of Cortes’ soldiers—was dispatched to subdue the Zapotecs, who lived in nearly inaccessible mountains. I will explain later how successful these officers were. For now, I must recount the rapid end of Aguilar’s government.

## CHAPTER CXCIV. {.chapter}
*Marcos de Aguilar dies, and in his will appoints the treasurer Alonso de Estrada governor; and other matters.*

As I mentioned in the previous chapter, Marcos de Aguilar was in extremely poor health, yet the doctors managed to keep him alive for eight months with goats’ milk and other nourishing foods. Eventually, however, on top of his other illnesses, he was struck by a severe fever that quickly brought his suffering to an end. In his will, he named Alonso de Estrada as his sole successor in the government, with the same restrictions that Ponce de Leon had placed upon him.

The residents of Mexico, especially the Spaniards who had settled in the provinces, had little or no confidence in Estrada’s ability to govern. He did not show enough resolve to stand up to the tyrannical conduct of Nuño de Guzman, who had arrived from Spain two years earlier, appointed as governor of Panuco. Guzman, with no hesitation, annexed entire districts from Mexico’s territory to his own province, blatantly disregarding the emperor’s instructions and acting like a madman. Among other outrages, he hanged a nobleman named Pedro Gonzales de Truxillo, who had settled in Mexico, without trial or process—simply because Truxillo claimed that his estate was not under Panuco’s jurisdiction, but Mexico’s, as his lands were not within Panuco province. Similarly, Guzman unhesitatingly mistreated several other Spaniards, ignoring all protests from Governor Estrada.

Seeing how little the overbearing Guzman cared for their governor—and how little support they could expect from Estrada—the main authorities of Mexico, along with the town’s leading cavaliers, urged Estrada to share the government equally with Cortes. They argued that God’s service and the true interests of his majesty demanded it. Yet Estrada stubbornly refused to consider their suggestion. Others claimed that it was actually Cortes himself who declined any role in the government, wishing to avoid giving hostile parties grounds to accuse him of seeking power again—or to confirm the rumors that Aguilar had died at his hand. After much discussion, it was finally agreed that Sandoval, who was alguacil-mayor and highly respected, should co-govern with Estrada—a plan Estrada approved, though some alleged he conceded only in hopes of marrying his daughter to Sandoval and securing for him the governorship of New Spain, which then was not as highly esteemed as it is today.

Once Sandoval and Estrada had settled their arrangements regarding governance, Estrada’s friends advised him to promptly send a ship to Spain with a full account of recent events, reporting them to his majesty in a way that suggested Sandoval had been taken as a colleague merely to keep Cortes out of government.

Cortes’ enemies took advantage of the occasion to send their own letters to Spain, in which they slandered our general viciously. They openly accused him of poisoning Garay, Leon, and Aguilar, and claimed he was plotting to murder the veedor and factor—outrageous and notorious lies. At the same time, the accountant Albornoz, who had never favored Cortes, went to Spain with the intent of harming his reputation further. Once his majesty and the Council of the Indies had read all these complaints, which seemed to compete with each other in slandering Cortes—and were backed by Albornoz—all previous allegations regarding his treatment of Narvaez, Tapia, and his first wife, Doña Catalina Suarez la Marcaida, were revived and became widely believed in their most exaggerated form. The emperor thus decided to appoint Estrada sole governor of New Spain. He confirmed all Estrada’s previous actions, granting him authority to distribute commendaries as he saw fit, and ordered that the factor and veedor be released and restored to their former positions.

A ship soon sailed from Spain bearing these royal commands, arriving promptly in Mexico. Yet this was not all: his majesty also ordered Don Pedro de la Cueva, the comendador-mayor of the Order of Alcantara, to recruit three hundred soldiers at Cortes’ expense to send them to New Spain to investigate the complaints made against Cortes—with full power, should he find the accusations true, to execute him. Likewise, the comendador was to punish anyone who had acted against the crown’s interests, seize all townships belonging to Cortes, and distribute them among the veteran Conquistadores. His majesty also ordered the founding of a royal court of audience in Mexico, to serve as a supreme court of justice.

The comendador-mayor’s departure was so delayed, however, that in the end it was abandoned entirely, due to opposition at court and, perhaps, because he did not receive the funding he requested—possibly with the duke of Bejar again supporting Cortes, as he had before.

Returning to Treasurer Estrada: he grew exceedingly vain and proud upon learning of his appointment as sole governor of New Spain, and being assured the emperor knew he was a son of his catholic majesty, King Ferdinand. The first thing he did was dispatch his cousin, Diego de Mazariegos, as captain to Chiapa to investigate Don Juan Enriquez de Guzman, whom Marcos de Aguilar had placed in command there, but who had been plundering and oppressing the inhabitants shamefully. Estrada also prepared to subdue the towns of the Zapotecs and Minxes, planning simultaneous attacks from two directions to increase his chances of success. The northern force was placed under Barrios, a recent arrival from Spain and former captain in Italy—not to be confused with Cortes’ cousin Barrios of Seville. This force numbered over one hundred men, including musketeers and crossbowmen. This expedition ended disastrously: after arriving at the Tiltepec townships, Barrios and seven of his men were killed in a surprise night attack by the natives, most of the rest wounded. The survivors barely escaped by retreating to Villa-Diego and friendly nearby districts.

This demonstrates the vast difference between the veteran Conquistadores and the inexperienced troops newly arrived from Spain, who had no real sense of warfare against the Indians or their tactics—hence the expedition’s miserable failure.

The second group advanced into Zapotec territory from Guaxaca, led by an officer named Figuero—reputedly a former captain in Spain, and a close confidant of Governor Estrada. He commanded a similar force of recent arrivals. Upon entering Zapotec territory, he summoned Alonso Herrera, who had been sent earlier with thirty men during Aguilar’s administration. Figuero, having superior authority, ordered Herrera to his camp. Soon after Herrera arrived, a heated argument broke out; both drew swords, and Herrera badly wounded Figuero as well as three supporting soldiers. Figuero’s injuries left him unfit to continue toward the Minxes’ mountain strongholds, which were difficult to access. Moreover, his men, unaccustomed to local warfare, instead focused on finding and opening the burial sites of the caciques for gold ornaments buried with tribal chiefs. In this pursuit, they amassed over 100,000 pesos’ worth of gold, plus other valuables from two townships. Abandoning the campaign, Figuero returned to Mexico, planning to enjoy his wealth in Spain. He set out from Vera Cruz, but hadn’t been at sea long before a violent storm struck, sinking the vessel, himself, five passengers, and all his gold.

Such were the unhappy results of Governor Estrada’s campaigns. The rebellion in these provinces was not quelled until we, the settlers of Guacasualco, marched against and fully subdued the region—though even for us it was no simple matter, especially since cavalry was useless in those high mountains. I personally had to lead three separate expeditions; even if we suppressed the revolts in spring and summer, the locals would rise again with the rains, killing any Spaniard they could catch. However, when we repeatedly pursued them into their hideouts, they eventually sued for peace, at which time the town of San Alfonso was founded there.

Meanwhile, Estrada was determined that Herrera should face justice for wounding his friend Figuero, so he ordered Herrera’s arrest. But Herrera fled to the mountains before the officers arrived. Not wanting to return empty-handed, they captured another soldier, Cortejo, a hidalgo who often accompanied Herrera. Without even a trial, Estrada had his right hand cut off.

At this time, one of Sandoval’s grooms had a violent altercation with a servant of the governor, which ended in both drawing swords and wounding each other. Even this trivial matter the governor took seriously, ordering the groom’s hand to be cut off. Cortes and Sandoval, who were not in Mexico but had withdrawn to Quauhnahuac to enjoy some peace and reconcile two local caciques in conflict, were informed of the events and the punishment about to be inflicted on Sandoval’s groom. They hurried to Mexico but were too late to prevent the sentence from being carried out.

Cortes was so furious at this insult that he said the sharpest and most bitter things to the governor in Sandoval’s presence, alarming Estrada to the point where he feared for his life. He formed a personal bodyguard, choosing only men whose loyalty he could trust completely. To further strengthen his position against Cortes, Estrada released the veedor and factor, who then advised him to banish Cortes from Mexico, warning that he would never be able to govern in peace while Cortes remained; party spirit would always keep the city divided. Estrada heeded their advice: he signed the order for Cortes’ banishment and had it delivered to him. Cortes responded by saying he would gladly obey; he thanked God that things had come to such a point that those unworthy of office would drive him from the land and city he had conquered through immense hardship—battling in many fierce engagements and where so many brave soldiers had died. He resolved to travel to Spain to inform his majesty of events in Mexico and to demand justice against those who repaid so much past kindness with betrayal.

Cortes departed Mexico immediately, going first to Cojohuacan, his own estate, where he stayed only briefly before moving on to Tezcuco, and soon after to Tlascalla. Estrada soon regretted his decision: when his wife, Doña Marina Gutierrez de la Caballeria, a truly virtuous and noble woman, learned her husband had released the veedor and factor—and banished Cortes—she was overcome with grief. She told him she hoped God would forgive his ingratitude toward a man who had been nothing but generous and had given him so many lucrative commendaries. She urged him to restore the friendship and persuade Cortes to return, warning that otherwise he would risk his own life. These words, it’s said, greatly affected Estrada, who deeply regretted banishing Cortes and freeing the veedor and factor, though they, as sworn enemies of Cortes, remained eagerly at Estrada’s service.

Around this time, Father Don Julian Garces arrived from Spain to assume the newly created bishopric of Tlascalla. He was Aragonese and an eloquent preacher, and in honor of the emperor, had taken the name Carolense. This prelate strongly disapproved of Cortes’ banishment. On learning of it, he determined to restore peace and friendship between Cortes and the governor. He traveled to Tezcuco by canoe with two priests and a monk. News of his approach reached Mexico, and the entire clergy, civic authorities, Conquistadores, and all officers and soldiers stationed in Mexico went out in procession to meet him. Barely two days after his arrival, the governor asked him to mediate between himself and Cortes and persuade the latter to return—formally withdrawing the order of banishment. The bishop gave his best efforts, but Cortes refused to reconcile, roaming from place to place, always accompanied by many cavaliers and followers. Cortes’ main focus was now to gather as much gold as possible for his journey to Spain, mortgaging not only his property but also that of loyal friends who were determined to stand by him. Sandoval and Tapia, vowing to join him, took the same steps. While in Tlascalla, Cortes was visited by several residents of Mexico and other towns, as well as by soldiers who had received no commendaries. Even the Mexican caciques paid their respects and offered their support. As always, there were people eager for change and chaos; some even urged him to set himself up as king of New Spain, claiming the time was ripe and pledging their aid. Cortes, however, would have none of it; he had two men who proposed such ideas imprisoned for high treason, making it clear for a long time that he meant to hang them.

A similar proposal was sent to him in a letter from Mexico by certain troublemakers—though many suspected this was merely a scheme to draw a compromising statement from Cortes that could be used against him. Unshakable in his loyalty to the emperor, Cortes harshly dismissed anyone who hinted at such things, threatening to hang them if they brought it up again.

In this way, the rebellious spirits tried to stir Cortes up with their proposals and sought to alarm the governor and the factor. They assured them that Cortes had no real plan to leave for Spain, but was simply spreading that rumor to hide his intentions: to gather as many followers as possible and suddenly attack. They claimed the caciques of Mexico, Tezcuco, Tlascalla, and all the lake towns were waiting for his signal to revolt. The governor, factor, and veedor became so frightened that they urged the bishop repeatedly to find out Cortes’ true intentions. They even wrote imploring letters to Cortes, apologizing and making every kind of offer.

The bishop visited Cortes to try once more for reconciliation. Observing the warm reception Cortes received everywhere, the unity among the people, and hearing how indignantly Cortes had rejected the foolish proposals, the bishop assured the governor in writing that Cortes was the most loyal cavalier and faithful servant of his majesty, unmatched in worth. The governor, he said, could be certain Cortes intended to go to the imperial court in Spain and had no other designs. The bishop added that by banishing Cortes, Estrada had only brought universal condemnation upon himself, ending the letter with: “O, Señor Tesorero Estrada, what a terrible affair is this, which you have so recklessly caused!”

I forget whether Cortes, before leaving for Spain, went back to Mexico to arrange the management of his property during his absence; I only know he entrusted these matters to licentiate Altamirano, Diego de Ocampo, Alonso Valiente, and Santacruz Burgales, especially the first named.

Among Cortes’ possessions were a remarkable collection of native birds from New Spain, two tigers, several jars of liquid amber, various dried and fluid balsams, four skilled Indian clowns, rope-dancers, and three dwarfs of such extraordinary appearance as to scarcely resemble humans—plus several Albinos of both sexes, whose vision was extremely poor. He intended them all as presents for his majesty. The caciques of Tlascalla also requested that he take three noble youths with him—one, the son of the old blind Xicotencatl—along with several Mexican caciques who accompanied him as well.

Cortes was preparing for his departure when news arrived that two fast ships had landed at Vera Cruz from Spain, carrying letters—the contents of which will be detailed in the next chapter.

## CHAPTER CXCV. {.chapter}
*How Cortes receives letters from the Cardinal de Siguenza, then president of the Council of the Indies, and from several other nobles, advising him to travel to Spain without delay; the death of his father Martin Cortes; and other matters.*

Cortes was preparing to depart for Spain when he received letters from Don Garcia de Loaysa, Cardinal of Siguenza, president of the Council of the Indies, and later Archbishop of Seville, as well as from the Duke of Bejar and other noblemen in Spain. They all informed him that his enemies were taking full advantage of his continued delay in returning to Spain, bringing fresh accusations against him daily. He was openly accused, they said, of the most heinous crimes, including having poisoned the various governors whom his majesty had sent to New Spain. It was therefore necessary for him to go immediately to the imperial court, which could not fail to produce a good result for him; and all the calumnies heaped upon him would fall back on his enemies, ultimately elevating him to the highest honors. They also informed him of the death of his father, Martin Cortes; and since he was still in mourning for his wife, Doña Catalina Suarez, he put on additional mourning for his father and paid him the highest honors in every way. The news he received caused him considerable grief, and if he had previously been eager to return to Spain, he was now even more so; especially as he learned that two newly built, fast-sailing ships had arrived in Vera Cruz. He sent his major-domo, Pedro Ruiz de Esquival, to purchase them. Various expensive provisions were gathered in abundance for the voyage, all arranged fittingly for someone as distinguished and wealthy as Cortes. The two ships were so well supplied that they had enough food for a journey of two years, even with more people on board than usual.

The major-domo, to take the shortest route to Vera Cruz, boarded a canoe on Lake Mexico, heading to the township of Ayotzinco. This sizeable canoe, manned by six Mexican rowers, carried Ruiz, gold bars for purchasing the ships, and a black slave to serve him. Whether he was attacked and murdered in the middle of the lake was never discovered, but it is certain that neither the canoe, the rowers, nor the slave were ever seen again; only Ruiz's body was found, four days later, on a small island in the lake, half devoured by birds of prey. Many theories were discussed regarding his death. Some said Ruiz had boasted too openly about the favors he received from the ladies, likely exaggerating events; others suspected something far worse, which I will not detail here. Ultimately, the truth was never known, nor was there much effort to investigate how he died. We can only wish that his soul may rest in peace.

Upon learning of this untimely death, Cortes sent other officers from his household to Vera Cruz to make the necessary preparations for his departure. He publicly announced that anyone wishing to leave for Spain, with the governor’s permission, would be granted free passage with him. He then departed with Sandoval, Andreas de Tapia, and several other gentlemen for Vera Cruz, where, after confessing and taking holy communion, they all set sail for Spain.

Cortes enjoyed a very favorable voyage, arriving safely in forty-one days off the coast of Spain without stopping at Havana or any other port. He anchored near the town of Palos, opposite the Church of Our Lady of Rabida. At the first sight of land, everyone on board knelt down and raised their hands in fervent thanks to God for the prosperous journey. Cortes arrived in Spain in December of 1527.

During the voyage, Sandoval fell dangerously ill, and Cortes's joy at returning home soon turned to deep sorrow, as a few days later it pleased God to take away this loyal companion in arms. Sandoval was still at Palos, staying in the house of a rope-maker. There, confined to his deathbed, he had to watch the owner open one of his trunks and take out thirteen gold bars. The rope-maker, taking advantage of a moment when Sandoval's servants had run to the Rabida to fetch Cortes, stole the gold, escaping to Portugal, and was never seen again.

When Cortes learned of Sandoval’s condition, he hurried to his bedside and heard all this from Sandoval himself. People were immediately sent in pursuit of the thief, but it was too late; he got away cleanly.

Sandoval's health steadily declined until the doctors gave up hope. He confessed, received the last sacraments with great devotion, made his will appointing Cortes as executor, left large sums to the poor and religious houses, and bequeathed his estate to his sister or sisters. I am not sure whether he had more than one sister, but later, one of his sisters married a natural son of the Earl of Medellin. Not long after drawing up his will, Sandoval passed away, and his death was sincerely mourned by all. He was buried with every possible honor in the monastery of Our Lady of Rabida, and Cortes, together with his entire suite, wore mourning for him. May God have mercy on his soul! Amen!

Afterwards, Cortes announced his arrival to his majesty, to the Cardinal de Siguenza, the Duke of Bejar, the Earl of Aguilar, and many other distinguished nobles. He also reported Sandoval's death and praised his excellent character, the vital services he had rendered the crown, his abilities as a commander, and his courage. Although the king rejoiced at Cortes’s arrival, Sandoval's death deeply saddened him, as he had already learned of Sandoval’s many virtues. The Cardinal de Siguenza and the entire Council of the Indies were likewise grieved, as were the Duke of Bejar, the Earl of Aguilar, and several other noblemen; but their sorrow was soon eclipsed by their joy at Cortes’s arrival.

The Duke of Bejar and the Earl of Aguilar then visited the king, who had already received Cortes’s letter. During their audience, the Duke told his majesty that he had always believed in Cortes’s loyalty; a man who had performed such great services for his monarch could only be equally trustworthy in other matters. This was made clear by Cortes, who, confident in his good conscience, had come to Spain unafraid. The Duke was justified in saying this: during the period when heavy accusations were brought against Cortes, he had stood guarantor for Cortes and his companions with both his life and property; he also never ceased to extol our loyalty and our services—even more notable as this was prior to the discovery of Peru. The emperor’s attitude toward Cortes changed so markedly that orders were given for him to be received with the highest honors in every town he passed through. The first to host Cortes with great splendor was the Duke of Medina Sidonia in Seville, who provided beautiful horses. After resting a few days, Cortes hurried by long journeys to the convent of Our Lady of Guadalupe to pay his respects. By good fortune, the distinguished Doña Maria de Mendoza, wife of the Comendador-Mayor of Leon, arrived there at the same time with several ladies, including her sister, who two years later would marry the governor of the Canary Islands. Cortes was delighted by this occasion. After praying at the shrine, donating generously to the poor, and arranging for many masses to be said, he, though in deep mourning, went with his retinue and other nobles to pay his respects to Doña Maria, her beautiful sister, and the other ladies. As Cortes was well-bred, frank, cheerful, and eloquent, he easily won their favor, and the fame of his exploits echoed across Spain. He showed his generosity by giving valuable gold trinkets, jewelry, and feathered ornaments to all, with the finest gifts reserved for Doña Maria and her charming sister. To the latter he even gave several gold bars to be used for elegant ornaments. He did not forget to offer the most exquisite perfumes and balms, entertained them with performances by Indian buffoons and rope dancers, and upon learning the lady had lost a mule, secretly bought her two more through her major-domo.

Cortes stayed in Guadalupe until the ladies departed for the imperial court—then in Toledo. He accompanied them on their journey, treating them to banquets and celebrations along the way. He so won Doña Maria’s good opinion with his charm and lavishness that she began to consider arranging a match between her sister and Cortes. If he had not already promised his hand to Doña Juana de Guzman, niece of the Duke of Bejar, the match would surely have taken place; with an alliance with the Comendador-Mayor of Leon, he would have increased his fortune and easily obtained from the king the appointment of governor of New Spain. However, I will say no more, for all is guided by the hand of God.

In her letters to her husband, Doña Maria praised Cortes highly, saying that the stories of his military feats were nothing compared to his personal qualities. To appreciate his true worth, one must experience the charm of his conversation, his noble and open character, and the grace of his every action. She declared it impossible anyone could be more devoted to the king, and hoped her husband would report to his majesty the great merits of Cortes, so that he would earn the rewards he so richly deserved.

Her husband, the Comendador-Mayor, was greatly pleased by her opinion and the courtesy Cortes had shown the ladies; he became very favorably disposed toward him. As the Comendador was one of the emperor’s most trusted men, he presented his wife’s letter to the emperor and strongly recommended Cortes. But as it happened, the emperor had already formed a favorable opinion of Cortes; as the Duke of Bejar later told Cortes, from the moment news reached him of Cortes’s return, the emperor expressed eagerness to meet the man who had done so much for him and of whom he had heard so many stories.

When Cortes reached the imperial court, the king ordered that he be given apartments in the palace. As Cortes approached the town, the Duke of Bejar, the Earl of Aguilar, and several other distinguished gentlemen met and welcomed him. On the following day, he was allowed to present himself to his majesty. To honor him, the Admiral of Castile, the Duke of Bejar, and the Comendador-Mayor of Leon accompanied him. When allowed to speak, Cortes knelt, but his majesty immediately told him to rise; Cortes then addressed the emperor, recounting in detail the many services he had rendered the crown, the conquests made through to the hazardous expedition to Honduras, and the troubles and conspiracies caused in his absence by the veedor and factor in Mexico. Though his address was long, he spoke fluently and concluded: “So as not to tire your majesty's patience further, and as it would not become a subject such as myself to go on at length before the greatest sovereign in the world, being unused to speaking before your majesty and feeling distress over the many injustices I've suffered, which could lead me to speak out of turn, I have set down all I wished to say in this memorial; your majesty can learn all the details from that.” With this, Cortes knelt and presented the memorial and would have kissed the king's feet, but again he was told to stand. The Admiral of Castile and the Duke of Bejar then spoke, praising Cortes and stating that he richly deserved reward.

The emperor immediately created him Marquis del Valle de Oaxaca, granted him several towns, and gave him the cross of the Order of Santiago. The income he was to receive was not specified at the time; I cannot say why this was overlooked. The emperor also appointed him Captain-General of New Spain and the South Sea. Cortes had a second audience to thank the emperor for these honors, and was received with equal distinction.

Cortes had only been in Toledo a few days when he became so ill that everyone feared for his life. The Duke of Bejar and the Comendador of Leon, worried that Cortes was near death, asked the king to visit him in person, to honor him for his service. The king agreed and came to see him, accompanied by several dukes, marquises, and other distinguished men. At court, this was considered the highest honor possible for a subject. When Cortes recovered, however, envy began to stir against the favor he enjoyed from the king, the Earl of Nassau, the Duke of Bejar, and the Admiral of Castile.

One Sunday, Cortes arrived late to mass at the cathedral. The king was already seated, as were the noblemen in their order of rank. Cortes, dressed in deep mourning, passed them all and sat next to the Earl of Nassau, very close to the king. This act of precedence, as it was called, was seen as arrogant and improper; immediately, those who felt slighted began to murmur their disapproval. However, the Duke of Bejar, the Admiral of Castile, and the Earl of Aguilar defended Cortes, pointing out that he had only taken the seat next to the Earl of Nassau because the king had ordered it, as an honor. They said also that Cortes had added vast territories to the crown, which benefited all Christendom; while the noblemen inherited their titles, the distinction shown to Cortes was earned through his own actions.

Nevertheless, it is certainly true that the great favor Cortes enjoyed with the king, the Admiral, the Earl of Nassau, and the Duke of Bejar, combined with the marquisate bestowed upon him, made him somewhat proud. He began to neglect his other supporters: the Cardinal de Siguenza, the Comendador-Mayor of Leon, his wife Doña Maria de Mendoza, and the Council of the Indies, all of whom had helped him greatly. Instead, he courted only the three noblemen mentioned above, believing their favor would secure anything. He repeatedly pressed the king to appoint him governor of New Spain, each time listing his services and promising, if granted this honor, to sponsor an expedition to discover islands and rich lands in the South Sea. His influential patrons also advocated for him. The emperor, however, replied that Cortes should be satisfied with the rich marquisate, as there were others who had assisted in these accomplishments who also deserved reward.

From then on, Cortes slowly lost royal favor. Some attributed this to the President of the Council of the Indies, Cardinal de Siguenza, who advised against making Cortes governor. Others blamed the Comendador-Mayor of Leon and his wife, Doña Maria, who were offended by his recent neglect. Whatever the cause, the king held to his decision and refused Cortes’s request. The emperor was about to embark at Barcelona for Flanders, accompanied by many notable persons; Cortes’s supporters continued to press for the governorship, until the king finally forbade the Earl of Nassau from mentioning it again, telling him that the marquisate’s income exceeded all that the Earl derived from Nassau.

Now, having wished the king a safe voyage, let us say a few words about Cortes’s marriage to Doña Juana de Zunniga. The banquets were exceedingly grand, and the gifts Cortes gave his bride, as reported by those who saw them, were so costly and magnificent that nothing like them had ever been seen in Spain. Even the Empress Isabella, according to reports from jewelers, wished she could own similar jewels, and accepted those Cortes gave her only with indifference, since they were not as fine as those he gave his wife.

Overall, Cortes experienced much disappointment during his stay in Spain. Chief among these sources of vexation, it was said, was that the empress changed her previously favorable opinion of him once she learned of his ingratitude toward the Comendador-Mayor of Leon, Doña Maria, and Cardinal de Siguenza, as well as that he had kept back more valuable jewels than those he presented to her. Still, she ordered the Council of the Indies to promote his interests as much as possible. An agreement was drawn up between him and the crown, that he should equip two ships at his own expense for a number of years to discover new islands and lands in the South Sea, with the condition that he receive a share of any profits.

Around this time, Don Pedro de la Cueva, the Comendador-Mayor of the Order of Alcantara, was at the imperial court. He was the same gentleman once commanded by the king to go to New Spain with a large force and investigate Cortes, with full power to execute him if found guilty. Now, however, he openly celebrated the title and honors the emperor had given Cortes, and frequently sought his company. He told Cortes he was right to come to Spain: for even if Don Pedro had found him innocent, he would still have had to pay for the expedition’s expenses, which would have been over 300,000 pesos.

Many more things were written to us by those present in Spain at the time and by Cortes himself, but I will not detail them here. Although Cortes wrote at length about the honors he received at court, he never said a word about why he was not made governor of New Spain.

A few days after he had been created a marquis, Cortes sent the cavalier Juan de Herrada to Rome on his behalf to kiss the feet of Pope Clement and offer a valuable present of jewels and gold trinkets. He instructed Herrada to bring along two Indian buffoons and wrote a long letter to the Pope, describing the lands he had discovered and conquered, the great services he had rendered above all to God, and then to the king; the idol worship among the Indians, and the many who had already been converted to Christianity. What else he wrote, I do not know; but we heard from Herrada, when he returned to New Spain, that Cortes had asked the Pope to remit a portion of the tithes.

It’s worth mentioning that Juan de Herrada was an excellent soldier who had accompanied us on the campaign to Honduras. After returning from Rome, he went to Peru, where Don Diego de Almagro made him governor to his young son Don Diego and otherwise placed great trust in him. Herrada led the group that killed the elder Pizarro and later became a chief officer under Almagro the younger.

In Rome, Herrada’s fine gifts and Indian buffoons were warmly received. The Pope stated during an audience that he could not thank God enough to live in an age when so many new lands were discovered and so many heathens converted to Christianity. He said that Cortes and his troops had rendered the greatest service to God, to Emperor Charles, and to all Christendom and were most deserving of reward. The Pope ordered a solemn procession and a day of thanksgiving, issued special bulls granting us absolution and indulgences to monasteries and churches, and confirmed all that Cortes had done in New Spain. Only in the matter of the tithes did the Pope refuse Cortes’s request.

This is all I know of the contents of the Pope’s letter to Cortes; but all I have written about the Roman mission was learned from Herrada himself and from another soldier, Campo, who accompanied him. They stayed eight days in Rome, and the Pope and the cardinals greatly enjoyed the Indian buffoons’ performances. The Pope even made Herrada a count palatine, gave him a large sum of money for his return journey, and sent him with a letter to the emperor requesting he be given a profitable command. However, by the time Herrada returned to New Spain, Cortes no longer had the power to grant lands or Indians, so he gained no benefit from the Pope’s letter and traveled on to Peru, where he pursued a successful career.

## CHAPTER CXCVI. {.chapter}
*How the royal court of audience arrives in Mexico during Cortés’ stay in Spain, and what their first actions were.*

While Cortés was in Spain—and had already been made a marquis—the royal court of audience appointed by His Majesty arrived in Mexico. This court consisted of a president, Nuño de Guzman, who had previously been governor of Pánuco, and four licentiates as auditors: Matienzo of Biscay or Navarra, Delgadillo of Granada, Maldonado of Salamanca (not the licentiate Alonso Maldonado the Good, who became governor of Guatemala), and the licentiate Parada, who until then had resided in Cuba.

These gentlemen received a magnificent welcome in Mexico, and began their duties about sixteen days after their arrival. None of the later viceroys or presidents had the extensive powers granted to these men by His Majesty. They had full authority to distribute the encomiendas in perpetuity and were especially instructed to reward the Conquistadores generously and to give them preference in all matters.

The court announced their arrival to every town throughout New Spain, ordering the citizens to send their procuradores, each supplied with a list of the Indians in their province. Not many days passed before these procuradores and Conquistadores gathered in Mexico from across New Spain. I went myself as procurador syndic for the town of Guacasualco, but when I learned how the auditors intended to proceed, I hurried back to Guacasualco to elect new procuradores who would better represent our interests at the royal court during the distribution of the encomiendas in perpetuity. There were various disputes about this election—everyone wanted his own friend chosen—but eventually, Luis Marin and I were selected. When we arrived in Mexico and, along with the other procuradores, firmly insisted on the distribution in perpetuity as His Majesty commanded, we found the situation had changed drastically. Guzman, Matienzo, and Delgadillo now firmly opposed the measure; and the other two auditors, Maldonado and Parada, died of pleurisy shortly after arriving. No doubt, if Cortés had been in New Spain at the time, malice would have accused him of their deaths as well. Regarding the distribution in perpetuity: I have heard from many credible sources that it was the factor who prevented its implementation. He had completely gained the confidence of Guzman and Delgadillo, who would do nothing without consulting him and allowed themselves to be guided by him in all things. These men now opposed perpetual distribution because they saw that the Conquistadores would become independent of them, and no longer attend to their interests. They thought it was better for themselves to leave things as they were, so they could grant and take away Indians as they pleased, always holding power and wealth over us. The factor, Delgadillo, and Guzman even made a secret agreement: the factor would go to Spain to obtain the governorship of New Spain for Guzman, as they had learned Cortés was no longer in such high favour with His Majesty and, despite all his influence at court, had not been able to obtain the position for himself. The factor accordingly set out for Spain, but after only a few days at sea, his ship was wrecked in a storm off the coast of Guacasualco. The factor barely escaped ashore in a boat, and the plan came to nothing.

The first action Guzman and his colleagues took was to open an inquiry into the government of Treasurer Estrada, to which Estrada submitted very patiently. Had he shown the firmness expected of him, he might have remained governor of New Spain, for only a few months earlier, His Majesty had granted him this office with full approbation of his conduct. Furthermore, Guzman’s powers as president were no greater than those assigned by the court of audience, and even then, any land or Indian distribution required approval from his colleagues. Every inhabitant of Mexico, and all the Conquistadores, would have vigorously supported Estrada had he shown determination to maintain his authority, since he had governed impartially and strictly according to His Majesty’s orders; yet, after only a few days, he tired of resisting the court and soon died, reportedly from sheer vexation.

This new court of audience was entirely opposed to Cortés and his adherents. In this partisan spirit, they began an inquiry into Jorge de Alvarado’s governance of Guatemala, sending Orduña the elder, from Tordesillas, to investigate. I do not know the outcome. They similarly targeted Cortés’s administration, appointing the fiscal and the factor Salazar to lead the investigation. During this process, Cortés was slandered in open court with numerous false and vile accusations. The licentiate Altamirano, whom Cortés had entrusted with his affairs in New Spain, respectfully removed his cap and pleaded with the president and auditors to restrain the factor’s slanderous speech and forbid further abuse of the marquis, a man of unblemished honour and a loyal servant of the crown. He demanded justice, but his words were barely noticed; the next day, the factor brought even worse accusations, and the auditors tolerated it so much that heated argument broke out between Altamirano on one side and the factor and auditors on the other. Eventually, Altamirano lost patience, drew his dagger, and would surely have stabbed the factor had the latter not rushed behind the auditors for protection. The whole city erupted over the incident. Altamirano was imprisoned, and the factor was confined to his house. All of us Conquistadores intervened on Altamirano’s behalf so effectively that three days later, he was released, and a reconciliation achieved.

After this incident faded, another more serious matter arose: about this time, a relative of Pánfilo Narvaez named Zavallos arrived in Mexico, sent by Maria de Valenzuela, Narvaez’s wife, to learn what had become of her husband, who had been appointed governor of the Rio Palmas region but was rumoured to have perished there. Maria de Valenzuela also authorized Zavallos to claim all her husband’s property wherever he might find it, believing he had brought great wealth to New Spain. The auditors secretly encouraged Zavallos to prosecute all Conquistadores who had aided Cortés against Narvaez—those who had harmed him, burned his property, and killed many of his men. Zavallos eagerly cooperated, immediately seeking indemnity from all the Conquistadores then in Mexico—about 250 of us—who were all condemned to pay a certain sum of pesos and banished twenty miles from the city. This sentence was quickly lifted, and some of us were not even asked for the small fine. But this was not the end. Other enemies of Cortés now came forward and accused him of keeping gold, silver, and jewels from the conquest of Mexico for himself, of concealing Quauhtemoctzin’s treasure and giving the Conquistadores only eighty pesos each, and of sending only a small token to His Majesty as if the gift came solely from himself. Although these accusers knew perfectly well that the treasure Cortés sent to Spain at that time was captured by the French privateer Jean Florin, yet they demanded that Cortés repay the treasure lost to the corsair, as well as any others that he was accused of hoarding.

Many other accusations were made against Cortés, and judgments consistently favoured the complainants; his property was sold off to settle the claims. The auditors even contrived to have Cortés’s own brother-in-law, Juan Suarez, accuse him in open court of murdering his late wife, Doña Catalina Suarez, allegedly supported by witnesses.

Regarding the claims for the treasure of Mexico and Quauhtemoctzin, Cortés’s supporters—after obtaining permission from the alcaldes—gathered at the house of Garcia Holguin and signed a declaration stating we would not accept any share of penalties imposed upon Cortés, nor did we have any such claim. We affirmed that the gold and valuables in question had been properly sent to His Majesty, as agreed by all, to demonstrate our loyalty. When the auditors learned what we had done, they threatened to seize us, claiming we had no authority to meet or sign such documents without their approval; but we produced the alcades’ permission. Still, the auditors again sentenced us to banishment twenty miles from Mexico, a sentence soon withdrawn as before, but which caused us much distress.

The auditors then announced publicly that anyone descended from Moors or Indians, or those whose relations or ancestors within four generations had been burned by the Inquisition—or even merely dismissed with the San Benito—must leave New Spain within six months or forfeit half their property. Many people were called to prove their respectability, and while several suffered damaged reputations, only two were actually forced to leave New Spain as a result.

Regarding the distribution of encomiendas, the auditors did follow His Majesty’s orders and richly rewarded the true Conquistadores. However, their downfall came from the excessive permission granted for marking slaves. This practice was so rampant in the province of Pánuco that the entire region was eventually depopulated. Nuño de Guzman had, in some respects, a generous spirit: for example, as a New Year’s gift, he gave the accountant Albornoz the township of Guazpaltepec. Albornoz had just returned from Spain with his wife, Doña Catalina de Loaisa, whom he had recently married, and had official permission to build a sugar refinery at Sempoalla, which was destroyed a few years later. If President Guzman was ruthless in marking slaves and eager to harm Cortés, auditor Delgadillo was no better. It was alleged he granted encomiendas in exchange for a percentage of their yearly income. He also appointed his brother Berrio as alcalde-mayor of Guaxaca, where Berrio abused the people to extract gold. Delgadillo also sent a relative with his own name to command the township of the Zapotecs, where that man’s conduct was as infamously abusive as Berrio’s in Guaxaca. Auditor Matienzo, being much older, was the only one who refrained from abuse; but against the others, so many serious complaints were filed—and so well substantiated by letters from monks and prelates—that the emperor ordered the Council of the Indies to recall all members of the royal audience, punish them severely, and appoint men of integrity and intelligence in their place. His Majesty also ordered an inquiry into the number of slaves marked in Pánuco province. Matienzo, as the just auditor, was assigned to conduct the inquiry.

From that point, all permits allowing the marking of slaves were declared invalid and the branding irons were destroyed everywhere they were found. It was henceforth forbidden to brand slaves again. A census of all slaves in New Spain was ordered to prevent their being sold out of the country or even moved from one province to another. Similarly, all distributions of encomiendas made by Guzman and his colleagues to friends, relatives, and unworthy persons were declared invalid, and the property was to be restored immediately.

These orders led to countless lawsuits as current holders used every ruse to keep what they had acquired. Some falsely claimed they were Conquistadores; others that they had long settled in the land. Those without a plausible reason insisted, at least, that they were never favorites of, or in regular company with, the auditors, and had only ever paid them the usual respect. In short, everyone defended their property as best as they could, and, generally, so successfully that only a few had to give up what they held. Accountant Albornoz was among those, losing Guazpaltepec, which Guzman had given him; likewise, Villa Roël had to surrender the township of Quauhnahuac. Villegas, Guzman’s steward, and other officials and relatives of the auditors had to forfeit their encomiendas.

When news arrived in Mexico that the auditors were to be dismissed, Guzman and his colleagues hurried to select a procurador to send to Spain, to testify that they had faithfully fulfilled their duties. For this, all the procuradores of the towns and the most prominent Conquistadores were invited to the principal church to elect the factor Salazar, as if he were unanimously chosen to go to Spain and defend Guzman and his associates. The auditors expected us to elect Salazar, especially since they had been so generous with the encomiendas.

The meeting took place, but so many unauthorized people crowded into the church and caused such chaos that it was impossible to proceed. We told the auditors we would carry on at their private residence the next day. Seeing that their goal was to have us select someone loyal to their interests, we decided that a second representative should be chosen on behalf of Cortés. In the election, we selected Bernardino Vazquez de Tapia for Cortés’s interest, and Antonio de Carvajal—who had commanded a brigantine in the siege of Mexico—on behalf of the auditors. In truth, however, both these men favored Guzman over Cortés, which was understandable, as the royal auditors had been more generous to us. They had, after all, to some degree followed His Majesty’s wishes in granting us encomiendas, while Cortés, when he had the power, had neglected us. Yet, as loyal Spaniards who remembered him as our captain, we still cared for him, perhaps more than he had cared for us when it was in his power to do so, despite His Majesty’s clear instructions.

After naming our two procuradores, we debated extensively on what should be expressed to His Majesty. The president and his associates argued that all procuradores ought to declare that Cortés’s return to New Spain would harm both religion and the crown, that his presence would only create factions and turmoil, making good government impossible. They claimed also that he might seek to seize the land for himself and possibly declare independence. Most of us Conquistadores flatly rejected these assertions, insisting no one was a more faithful servant of His Majesty than Cortés.

At this time, Alvarado also returned from Spain as governor and chief justice of Guatemala, and as comendador of Santiago. He was accompanied by his newly wedded wife, Doña Francisca de la Cueva, who, however, died shortly after reaching Vera Cruz, so that Alvarado and his company arrived in Mexico in deepest mourning. On learning about the petition the auditors intended to send His Majesty, he helped us draft a joint address to the emperor, in which we set out the real motives of the president and his colleagues. When our two chosen procuradores presented their papers to the Council of the Indies, the members saw at once that they were based solely on malice against Cortés. The imperial decree confirming the dismissal of the auditors was therefore upheld. Cortés was still in Spain at this time, and it is to be expected that these attempts to injure him only improved his reputation and honour.

Meanwhile, Nuño de Guzman launched an expedition to Xalisco to colonize the province, in which he was ultimately more successful than Cortés, who had previously attempted something similar.

## CHAPTER CXCVII. {.chapter}
*How Nuño de Guzman, learning that the emperor had dismissed the royal court of audience, resolves to conquer the province of Xalisco, now called New Galicia.*

When Nuño de Guzman realized his power in New Spain was ending, he assembled a large force of cavaliers, crossbowmen, and musketeers to invade the province of Xalisco. He compelled those unwilling to join to either participate or pay money for a substitute. He appropriated every horse he could find, usually paying only half its value. The wealthier citizens of Mexico were made to contribute as much money as they could spare, and a large number of Indian auxiliary troops and porters were forced to join the expedition.

Guzman’s troops spread destruction everywhere. The first province he crossed was Mechoacan, whose people still had plenty of gold, though it was inferior due to its high silver content; for this reason, Guzman extorted a greater share from them. Casonci, the leading cacique, firmly refused to give as much gold as Guzman demanded, so Guzman ordered him tortured by having hot oil poured on his feet. When, despite the torment, Casonci remained defiant, Guzman ordered him hanged. This was the most cruel and evil deed the president ever committed, and it was solely his doing—for all his men were appalled by this barbarity. Guzman seized many Indians from this province to carry his baggage to where he established the town of Compostella, which cost the crown a fortune in addition to the heavy burdens imposed on the inhabitants of Mexico, many of whom were forced to settle in the new town. As I did not join this expedition, I cannot recount its details, but I do know that neither Cortés nor Guzman profited, and that Guzman remained in Xalisco until His Majesty ordered him arrested and taken back to Mexico at his own expense to account for his actions before the new court of audience. It was at the urging of Matienzo and Delgadillo that these proceedings were taken against him. But let us now turn to the new members of the royal court of audience.

## CHAPTER CXCVIII. {.chapter}
*The arrival of the new members of the royal court of audience in Mexico.*

Earlier, I mentioned His Majesty’s orders for a new court of audience, composed entirely of men of integrity and intelligence. The chosen members were: Don Sebastian Fuen Leal, as president (then bishop of St. Domingo); auditors—the licentiate Maldonado, of Salamanca; Francisco de Cainos, of Toro or Zamora; Vasco de Quiroga, of Madrigal (later bishop of Mechoacan); and Salmeron, of Madrid. The auditors arrived in Mexico before the president, though the latter followed only a few days later, and were all received with great ceremony.

These men at once opened a general investigation into the government of their predecessors. Large numbers of people came from every town—procuradores and Indian chiefs alike—bringing so many accusations of oppression, extortion, and injustice against the former auditors that the new ones were astounded. Cortés’s agents also complained of the illegal seizure and auction of his property by Guzman and his associates, and sought damages of 200,000 pesos. As Guzman refused to appear in Mexico at the auditors’ summons, and instead stayed obstinately in Xalisco, only Delgadillo and Matienzo had to answer the accusations. They put all blame on Guzman, stating that he, as president, had acted independently and was solely responsible.

Since Guzman would not appear before them, the auditors simply sent a report to His Majesty about New Spain’s affairs, fearing that force might cause an uprising. The Council of the Indies, on receiving this, sent licentiate de la Torre to Mexico with orders to go in person to Xalisco, arrest Guzman, and bring him to Mexico. He was also tasked with ensuring Guzman repaid the money he had forced us to pay to Narvaez’s wife as compensation for losses Narvaez suffered when we had marched against him.

In the meantime, the auditors pressed on with their investigations. First, they ordered the estates of Delgadillo and Matienzo sold to settle outstanding claims; as the proceeds still fell short, they were to be imprisoned. The same fate befell Berrio, Delgadillo’s brother, who, as alcalde-mayor of Guaxaca, had engaged in all manner of oppression: his property was sold, and he died in jail. Another Delgadillo relative, alcalde-mayor of the land of the Zapotecs, also met the same end.

The new auditors were scrupulously honest and fair in their administration. They strove above all else to serve God and protect the true interests of the Crown. Tirelessly, they sought the well-being of the Indian population, established rules for their religious instruction, and outlawed the marking of slaves.

After four years in Mexico, auditors Salmeron and Cainos—by then elderly—asked permission from His Majesty to retire to Spain to enjoy in peace the fortunes they had acquired honestly. The emperor, fully satisfied with their performance, happily granted the request. At the same time, the emperor recalled President Don Sebastian to learn the true state of New Spain. He soon after made him president of the supreme court at Granada, then bishop of Valladolid, later bishop of Tui, then bishop of León, and finally of Cuenca—advancement after advancement, all due to his unfailing justice. After this last post, he died, and, according to our faith, I believe he enjoys the blessedness of heaven. During his term in Mexico, I had many opportunities to speak with him and always found him to be a just and good-natured man. He had shown the same kindness as bishop of St. Domingo and earlier as inquisitor at Seville.

The licentiate Alonso Maldonado, whom His Majesty appointed president and governor of Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua, also possessed every good quality and was later made governor of Yucatan with his father-in-law, Don Francisco de Montejo.

The licentiate Quiroga was similarly virtuous, and later became bishop of Mechoacan. These excellent men were justly rewarded for their virtues, while Delgadillo and Matienzo returned to Spain poor and despised, dying there in obscurity soon after.

Around this period, His Majesty appointed a viceroy of New Spain, the illustrious Don Antonio de Mendoza, whose memory will always be honoured. He brought with him new auditors: Dr. Quesada, of Ledesma, and licentiate Tejada, of Logroño. After auditor Maldonado soon left for Guatemala, a new auditor, Loaisa of Ciudad Real (an elderly man), was appointed; after some years he returned to Spain with a comfortable fortune. He was succeeded by licentiate Santillana, of Seville. All of them were men of the strictest justice, and their entry into Mexico was extremely grand. They immediately called for anyone with complaints against the former court to come forward; but no one did, and their administration was judged above reproach.

The first thing the viceroy did was try to persuade Nuño de Guzman to come to terms, rather than resort to force. He invited Guzman to Mexico, provided him accommodation in his own palace, treated him with every courtesy, and had him dine daily at his table. While Guzman was there, licentiate De la Torre arrived, commissioned to arrest him and bring him to trial. But, finding the viceroy unwilling to help, De la Torre went to the palace himself, apprehended Guzman, and jailed him for several days, after which the viceroy had him released.

When Guzman’s supporters saw that De la Torre was determined to expose every detail of his misdeeds, they sought at least to damage the licentiate’s reputation, exploiting his known fondness for gambling. At that time, it was the style—especially among lawyers—to wear loose coats with wide sleeves. In one such sleeve belonging to the licentiate, one of Guzman’s followers secretly fixed a small pack of cards, arranged to spill out as he walked. While crossing the main square with distinguished company, the cards began dropping one by one, marking his path. Eventually, his companions noticed and pointed it out. This malicious prank deeply embarrassed him and he exclaimed, “Apparently, the justice I bring is not appreciated here; but if I live, His Majesty will learn of this insult done to me.” A few days after suffering this indignity, he became ill with vexation and died.

## CHAPTER CXCIX. {.chapter}
*Cortes returns to New Spain as Marquis del Valle de Oaxaca, and Captain-General of New Spain and the South Sea, accompanied by his wife Doña Maria de Zuniga, Father Leguizamo, and other monks.*

After Cortes had been away in Spain for a considerable time and married his second wife, he became eager to return to New Spain. He wished to regain control of his estates and assume the marquisate which the emperor had granted him. Knowing well the situation in Mexico, he made haste to depart, setting sail with his household and twelve monks from the Order of Charity. These monks were sent to continue the missionary work begun by Father Olmedo and other devout men mentioned in earlier chapters. The Order’s general again chose virtuous and capable men for Cortes, led by Father Juan de Leguizamo of Biscay, a man esteemed for his learning and piety, who served as confessor to both Cortes and his wife.

Cortes' voyage was once again very favorable, although sadly, one of the monks died a few days after reaching Vera Cruz. In Vera Cruz, Cortes was welcomed with respect, though not with the former magnificence. From there, he visited some of the towns within his marquisate and proceeded to Mexico City, where he arranged to be proclaimed captain-general of New Spain and of the South Sea. He also asked the viceroy and the royal auditors to count his subjects according to his own interpretation. When the emperor granted him the marquisate, he specified the number of inhabitants it should include, though the exact figure escapes me now. I do recall it led to a lawsuit; Cortes, when petitioning for these Indians, counted an entire household—including sons, sons-in-law, and servants—as a single person. However, the royal court of audience interpreted this differently. Doctor Quesada, one of the auditors, was tasked with the count and tallied all the adult family members individually, including slaves and servants. In this way, a single house might contain ten to fifteen subjects, while Cortes argued that each house should count as one. He maintained that the emperor intended for the number of houses to be the count of inhabitants. This matter led to legal disputes, putting him at odds with the viceroy and the auditors, who referred it to the emperor. No resolution was reached for several years, during which time the marquis continued to collect his tribute as he saw fit.

Upon his return, Cortes stayed only a few days in Mexico City before taking up residence with his wife in the town of Quauhnahuac, also part of his marquisate. He then focused on outfitting an expedition, per his agreement with Empress Isabella, of blessed memory, and the Council of the Indies, for explorations in the South Sea. He prepared this expedition from the town of Teguantepec, then part of his marquisate, and from the harbors of Zacatula and Acapulco.

The conclusion of this expedition I will detail in the following chapter, which will show that Cortes’ endeavors no longer met with the success they once enjoyed.

## CHAPTER CC. {.chapter}
*On the great expenses Marquis Hernando Cortes incurred outfitting expeditions to the South Sea, and their unfortunate outcomes.*

The Marquis del Valle, before his trip to Spain and during the rule of Marcos de Aguilar, had built two ships, manning them with 250 well-armed men and many skilled sailors. He gave command to a cavalier named Alvarado de Saavedra, and the vessels were provisioned for a year, also carrying a good stock of goods for trade.

Saavedra was instructed to sail toward the Moluccas or China, the main aim being to find a direct route from Spanish America to the Spice Islands. This venture was done at the emperor’s express command, as seen in a letter to Cortes dated Granada, June 22, 1526. I am precise about these details because Cortes showed this letter to me and other Conquistadors who were with him at the time. In it, the emperor also ordered that Cortes’s fleet seek out another, larger fleet that had sailed directly from Spain for China, led by Don Garcia de Loaysa, a commander in the Order of St. John.

As Saavedra was preparing to depart, a small ship arrived off Guantepec’s coast, part of Loaysa’s fleet. Its captain, Ortuño de Lango, informed Saavedra of Loaysa’s fate and gave sailing directions. Saavedra then persuaded the pilot and a couple of Ortuño’s sailors to join him and set out after attending mass in December 1527, from Ciguatepec, which lay in Colima or Zacatula province. This venture did reach the Moluccas and several islands, but suffered terribly from storms, famine, and disease, resulting in the death of many men. I saw one of the sailors from this expedition in Mexico three years later; he told me marvelous tales of the places Saavedra had visited. If memory serves (for many years have passed), Saavedra and his men were captured by the Portuguese and taken to Spain, or returned at the king’s request.

After this expedition left, Cortes outfitted two more ships with eighty soldiers—musketeers and crossbowmen. He put Diego Hurtado Mendoza in command, and in May 1532, they set out from Acapulco to discover new islands and lands. However, Captain Hurtado did not achieve these goals and dared not venture far from shore; soon, many of his men grew tired of the aimless sailing, refused further orders, and deserted with one of the ships. These dissenters later claimed they left with Hurtado’s approval, who supposedly let them return one ship to Spain, but this seems unlikely—they clearly seized the ship by force. Not long after, a storm drove them ashore, and after much hardship, the crew reached Xalisco, where news of their troubles soon spread to Mexico. Meanwhile, Hurtado continued along the coast until his vessel vanished completely. Neither the ship nor her crew were ever heard from again.

Though Cortes was deeply affected by this loss, it did not stop him from organizing further expeditions. He had prepared two more ships at his own expense in the port of Guantepec, crewed by seventy soldiers. He appointed Diego Bezerra de Mendoza to command one vessel, and Captain Hernando de Grijalva to the other, though Bezerra was in charge of both. Ortuña Ximenes, a renowned cosmographer from Biscay, served as chief pilot. Bezerra’s orders were to search for Hurtado, and if he couldn't find him, to explore the open ocean for new lands, as there were rumors of islands in the South Sea rich in pearls. Ximenes was so confident of success that he promised the sailors they would find great wealth, and many believed him.

These hopes were dashed the very first night after sailing from Guantepec, when a contrary wind separated the two ships, and they never rejoined. Good weather soon returned, and the ships could have reunited had Grijalva not struck off into the open ocean, wanting to avoid Bezerra’s authority, as Bezerra was proud and unpleasant. Grijalva sailed more than 800 miles, eventually discovering an unknown island he named St. Thomas. Bezerra continued as well, but soon quarreled with Ximenes, who—along with his fellow Biscayans and much of the crew—attacked Bezerra at night and killed him and several soldiers. Greater bloodshed was only averted by two Franciscan friars on board, who talked Ximenes and the attackers into setting them ashore at Xalisco along with some wounded men. Ximenes pressed on, arriving at an island he called Santa Cruz, reported to have rich pearl fisheries. The island’s native population was savage and killed Ximenes and all who went ashore with him. The few sailors who remained aboard brought the vessel back to Xalisco, where they recounted the events and spread tales of populous towns and abundant pearls. Word of this soon reached Mexico. Such stories were very unwelcome to Cortes, but being a man not easily daunted by misfortune, he resolved to no longer entrust these explorations to others, but to lead them in person. By this time, three more fine ships waited at Guantepec, and he planned to set out himself, especially since he was strongly tempted by the prospect of that pearl-rich island—and the belief that other large continents remained to be found in the South Sea.

When word spread in New Spain that Cortes himself would command the expedition, confidence soared about its prospects and the fortune awaiting its participants. So many cavaliers, musketeers, and crossbowmen volunteered that over 380 men assembled, including thirty married couples.

The ships were fully provisioned with top-quality supplies, all types of ammunition, and various tools. Expert sailors and pilots were hired, and the troops received orders to reach Guantepec by a specific route, while Cortes, Andres de Tapia, several officers, some priests, surgeons, doctors, and an apothecary took another route. On arrival at Guantepec, Cortes found three ships ready and set sail with the advance troops for the bay or island of Santa Cruz, landing safely in May 1535. The three ships then returned to Guantepec to collect the ladies and the remaining men under Tapia’s command. This journey was much less smooth: storms blew the ships into the mouth of a wide river they named St. Peter and St. Paul. On leaving the river and trying to regain their route, more storms drove the ships apart. Only one arrived at Santa Cruz; another ran aground off Xalisco, its crew barely escaping death at sea. Weary of the constant danger, most of these men scattered across New Spain, while a few remained in Xalisco. The third ship pulled into a bay, which they called Guajava for the many Guajava trees there. But this ship too was grounded and could not be freed. Meanwhile, Cortes waited anxiously for these vessels, especially as all his provisions were gone—the bulk of the bread and salted meat having been on the ship lost off Xalisco. The inhabitants of Santa Cruz were wild, neither growing maize nor tilling the soil, but surviving on wild fruits, fish, and game. As a result, Cortes’s men suffered such a famine that twenty-three died from hunger and disease. Most of the survivors were also sick and cursed Cortes, the island, and the whole venture.

Determined to change their fortune, Cortes set out with the ship that had arrived to search for the others, taking fifty men, two blacksmiths, and several shipwrights. Reaching Xalisco, he found one ship stranded on a sandbank, abandoned, and discovered the other stuck between coral rocks. With the utmost effort, he refloated them, and after repairs, returned with both ships and their cargoes to Santa Cruz. The men, half-starved for so long, gorged on salted meat and many died of dysentery.

To escape the miserable situation, Cortes sailed away from Santa Cruz and discovered the coast of California. Cortes himself was in poor health at this time, and would have gladly returned to New Spain, but dreaded the slander of his enemies. They would surely comment on the huge sums he spent searching for lands with no benefit, and he could not bear the thought that people would say his ventures now ended only in failure—that he labored under the curses of the veteran Conquistadors of New Spain.

Meanwhile, his wife, the Marchioness del Valle, had heard nothing from her husband, and news arrived of a shipwreck off the Xalisco coast. Fearing her husband was lost at sea, she grew deeply despondent. To learn the truth, she sent two ships under Captain Ulloa, carrying a letter for her husband, begging him to return to Mexico and his beautiful estates—to think of his children and no longer tempt fate, but be content with the heroic deeds that had already made him famous across the world. The viceroy Mendoza also wrote, urging him in the most courteous and friendly way to return.

Ulloa’s voyage was very successful; he soon reached Cortes’s harbor. The letters from his wife, children, and the viceroy had such an effect that Cortes handed over command of his ships and men to Ulloa, embarked for Acapulco, and hurried home to Quauhnahuac. The joy of his family at his safe return can easily be imagined; the viceroy, the royal auditors, and the people of Mexico were just as pleased, as they feared the caziques might rise in rebellion while Cortes was away.

Not long after, the troops who had stayed behind in California also returned, though I cannot say whether they did so by choice or at the viceroy’s or royal court’s direction.

After only a few months of rest, Cortes sent out another, larger expedition under Ulloa, this time by order of the royal court of audience and in line with his agreement with the king. The fleet left the harbor de la Natividad in June of “one thousand five hundred and thirty, and so many years”—I forget the exact year. Ulloa’s first instructions were to sail along the coast searching for Hurtado, from whom nothing had been heard since his disappear­ance. Ulloa cruised up and down the coast for seven months and returned to Xalisco without accomplishing anything notable; not long after landing, he was ambushed by one of his own men and stabbed to death.

Thus ended, most unhappily, the various South Sea expeditions launched by Cortes. I have often heard that they cost him more than 300,000 pesos. Cortes finally decided to go to Spain himself to request reimbursement, to resolve the lawsuit regarding his marquisate, and to compel Nuño de Guzman—who had been arrested and sent to Spain—to pay him the damages awarded by the royal court of audience.

When we consider that none of Cortes’s ventures after conquering New Spain met with success, we should not be surprised that people said he was haunted by the curses placed on him.

## CHAPTER CCI. {.chapter}
*On the grand festivities held in Mexico to celebrate the peace concluded between our emperor and the king of France, and on Cortes’s second journey to Spain.*

In 1538 word arrived from Spain that our emperor, of glorious memory, had visited France and been lavishly received by its king at the harbor of Aigues-Mortes. The two monarchs met, embraced warmly, and concluded a peace treaty. Queen Eleanor—the French king’s mother and the emperor’s sister—was also present at these celebrations.

To honor this occasion, the viceroy of New Spain, Mendoza, the Marquis del Valle, the royal auditors, and many distinguished Conquistadors organized splendid feasts. By this time, Cortes and the viceroy were once again on good terms after a long conflict over the number of Indians assigned to his marquisate and the favor the viceroy showed Nuño de Guzman. Judging by what I saw, no such grand tournaments, mock battles, masquerades, bullfights, and celebrations had ever been seen in Spain as those that took place in Mexico. Festivities resembled those of ancient Rome, when a consul or triumphal general entered the city, and everything was directed by a Roman nobleman, Luis de Leon, said to descend from an ancient patrician family.

When the festivities ended, Cortes began preparations for his departure and invited me to accompany him, promising to secure for me from the council of the Indies grants of more lucrative towns than I could expect from the royal court in Mexico. I sailed for Spain, arriving a few months before Cortes, who explained that he was delayed by a sore leg and because he hadn’t yet gathered as much gold as he wished for the voyage. It was in 1540 that Cortes returned to Spain for the second time. The Empress Isabella had passed away in May the previous year, so the entire kingdom was in deep mourning, and I, as regidor of Guacasualco and the oldest of the Conquistadors, wore full mourning when I arrived at court.

At that same time, Hernando Pizarro and his entourage—over forty people, all in deep mourning—arrived in Madrid where the court was in residence. Cortes and his party reached the city almost simultaneously, and were received with distinction by order of the council of the Indies, staying with the comendador Juan de Castilla. He was treated with great respect and, whenever he attended council meetings, an auditor was sent to meet him at the door and he was invited to sit beside the president and auditors.

Cortes never returned to New Spain after this. Though the admiral of Castile, the Duke of Bejar, the Comendador-Mayor of Leon, and Doña Maria de Mendoza all tried to persuade the emperor, it was not permitted. Each time they asked, the emperor replied, “All the investigations against Cortes must be completed before I can allow him to return.” Yet nothing was resolved, and the council of the Indies would not act until the emperor came back from Flanders, where he had gone to subdue the city of Ghent. Similarly, Nuño de Guzman was not allowed back to New Spain, though he was fined heavily. He was permitted to keep his benefices in Xalisco and, like Cortes, Guzman and his followers wandered Madrid in mourning. Since Cortes, Pizarro, Guzman, and other notable New Spain and Peru figures were regularly seen in public, we were mockingly called “the mourning Indians of Peru.” The joke turned tragic for Pizarro, who was soon imprisoned in the Mota of Medina.

I myself returned to New Spain and, upon arrival, heard of an uprising among the mountain tribes of Cochitlan, in Xalisco province. To suppress it, the viceroy sent several officers, including Christobal Oñate. The Indians fought so bravely that the city of Mexico had to ask help from Alvarado, who at the time was busy fitting out a major expedition in Guatemala for China. Alvarado willingly sent assistance and marched quickly to Cochitlan with his troops. During this campaign, he met with a tragic accident, which I will describe in a later chapter. Now I must speak of two armaments that left New Spain, one prepared by the viceroy, the other by Alvarado.

## CHAPTER CCII. {.chapter}
*How the viceroy sends a squadron of three ships into the South Sea to aid Francisco Vasquez Coronado in the conquest of Cibola.*

As mentioned in a previous chapter, the viceroy and royal auditors sent an expedition to discover the seven towns, also called the towns of Cibola. Francisco Vasquez Coronado, a cavalier from Salamanca and governor of Xalisco (married to the beautiful and virtuous daughter of treasurer Estrada), set out as captain-general with a sizable force of horsemen and infantry to further explore the area. Naming Oñate as deputy governor during his absence, he traveled overland, reaching the so-called seven towns after several months. Whether he sent the Franciscan Father Marcos de Nizza ahead, or whether they arrived together, I cannot say. But when they entered the land of Cibola, they were amazed to find meadows full of cows and bulls, though unlike those in Spain; the towns had multi-story houses accessed by stairways. Seeing this, Father Marcos considered it worth returning to Mexico to report their discoveries to the viceroy, who then organized a substantial expedition. The viceroy sent out three ships under the main command of Hernando Alcaron, one of his household officers, accompanied by Marcos Ruiz de Rojas of Madrid and a man named Maldonado as second in command. I should mention that all I recount here about this discovery is from hearsay.

## CHAPTER CCIII. {.chapter}
*About the very large armament that Alvarado outfitted in the year 1537.*

Here I must not overlook the massive armament that Alvarado outfitted in the year 1537, at the harbor of Acaxatla, on the South Sea coast in the province of Guatemala, where he was then governor.

This expedition was prepared according to an agreement he had made with the crown during his time in Spain. By this agreement, he committed himself to equip a specific number of ships at his own expense, for the express purpose of finding a western passage to China, the Moluccas, or other Spice Islands. In return, he was promised a share either in the lands he might discover or the annual revenues from them. However, as I never saw this agreement myself, I can provide no further details about it.

Alvarado, who always proved himself a most loyal servant to his majesty—during both the conquest of New Spain and the campaigns in Peru—and, with his four brothers, always promoted the interests of the crown, sought now to outdo any armament Cortés had prepared before him. He therefore fitted out thirteen large ships, well stocked with ammunition, provisions, and water, making sure to hire the best sailors and the most experienced pilots. Since the harbor where he built these ships was over 800 miles from Vera Cruz, all the ironwork and most of the building materials had to be transported there overland from that port; this made the costs so high that he could have built eighty ships of the same size at Seville for the same amount of money. He not only spent all the wealth he had brought from Peru and all the gold he could collect from his mines in Guatemala and his other holdings, but also borrowed large amounts of money and bought quantities of goods on credit. Added to these expenses were the large sums he had to pay the ships’ captains, officers, and troops—amounting to 650 men—as well as the purchase of horses, where the best cost him 300 pesos each, and the lesser ones between 150 and 200 pesos. There was also the expense of a sizable stockpile of ammunition and powder. In short, the total sums he spent are beyond imagination. By this expedition, he not only expected to render distinguished service to his majesty, but also hoped to reach China, the Moluccas, or the Spice Islands by a western route, either making new conquests or at least opening trade between these places and the province he governed; he was, therefore, determined to risk both his life and all his property on the enterprise.

Once the armament was fully outfitted, Alvarado assumed chief command as captain-general and hoisted the imperial flags. The number of troops aboard was 650, including 200 horsemen, and after attending mass, they set sail in 1538, though I forget the month. He first headed for the harbor of la Purificación, in the province of Xalisco, where they took on more water and provisions and a few more soldiers.

When the viceroy heard about such a vast armament being outfitted so far from Vera Cruz and Mexico, he was completely astonished. He consulted the most experienced pilots and cosmographers, and learned from them—especially his relative Villalobos, who was a very skilled geographer and navigator—that it was certainly possible to reach China by sailing straight west from the New World. This made him eager to share the expenses of the expedition with Alvarado; so first he made the offer in a letter, then sent his major-domo Agostino Guerrero and Don Luis de Castilla to settle the terms. As a result of this offer, the viceroy and Alvarado met at Chiribitio, a township in the province of Mechoacan belonging to Juan de Alvarado. These two distinguished men inspected the armament and traveled together to Mexico, to choose an officer to act as captain-general of the whole expedition. Alvarado wanted to appoint his relative Juan de Alvarado of Guatemala—who should not be confused with the previously mentioned Juan de Alvarado—but the viceroy’s choice was his own relative, Villalobos. Alvarado himself had to give up the idea of commanding personally, as affairs in his own province needed his immediate attention. Still, he wished to be present at the armament’s departure and so traveled overland to the harbor of Natividad, where all the ships lay ready, awaiting only his commands to set sail.

Just as he was about to issue those commands, he received a letter from Cristóbal de Oñate, whom, as I mentioned above, Vázquez Coronado had appointed governor of Xalisco during his absence in Cíbola. In this letter, Oñate said he was threatened on all sides by large groups of Indians—especially those who had taken a strong position in the mountains of Chochitlan—and that they had killed a significant number of his troops. If he did not receive help at once, he would be cut off with all his men. Oñate painted so dire a picture that the whole of New Spain itself seemed endangered, should the Indians march down victorious from those heights. Alvarado, on receiving this news, hurried with a large force to Oñate’s aid and found him indeed in such peril, that without this timely rescue, the Indians would soon have overpowered his small force. After Alvarado’s arrival, the enemy did not attack as often, though each time the fighting resumed, they fought bravely. During one battle in the mountains, a horse stumbled and rolled down a steep slope. Alvarado, climbing the same hill, could not get out of the way of the falling horse, which carried him down and landed on him at the bottom, bruising him badly so that he became very ill. The injuries were not considered life-threatening, and he was carried in a sedan chair to the nearby town of Purificación for medical help, but he had frequent fainting spells on the way and died a few days later, after receiving the holy communion and making his confession. Some people claimed he left a will, but none was ever found.

This excellent gentleman would no doubt have survived if he had not been carried to town in his weakened state, but had been promptly treated by a surgeon right where the accident happened. However, it was the Lord’s will, and may God have mercy on his soul. Alvarado was buried with every possible honor in the town where he died. Later, I heard that Juan de Alvarado had his remains moved to Chiribitio, where they were reburied with even greater funeral splendor, many alms were given, and several masses ordered for his soul.

When news of Alvarado’s death reached the fleet and the headquarters at Cochitlan, there being no one left to take command, a number of troops deserted, leaving with the money they had received in advance. The distress this news caused in Mexico was great, especially since the viceroy, after Alvarado’s death, was requested to quickly send aid to Xalisco. As he could not go himself at the time, he sent the licentiate Maldonado with as large a force as could be gathered in a hurry. Later, he personally marched against the Indians and completely defeated them, after long and exhausting campaigns.

When word of Alvarado’s death reached Guatemala, his family was inconsolable. His wife, Doña Beatriz de la Cueva, with whom he had always lived most affectionately, wept constantly, and she and all the ladies of her household cut off their hair. His death was also a heavy blow to his beloved daughter, sons, and son-in-law Don Francisco de la Cueva, whom Alvarado had appointed governor of Guatemala during his absence. Every one of the conquistadors of the province mourned deeply for him and wore mourning. Bishop Don Francisco Marroquín was also greatly grieved by the news; he celebrated a solemn mass for the dead, assisted by the entire clergy, and ordered daily prayers for the repose of his soul. Alvarado’s major-domo even covered all the walls of his house with a kind of black bitumen, which stuck so firmly it could never be removed.

Several gentlemen called on the grieving widow to offer condolences and urged her to moderate her grief and resign herself humbly to God’s will. As a good Christian, she promised to do so, but, as women cannot easily control their sorrow for those they have loved, she said she was tired of life and longed to leave this vale of tears. I mention this only because Gomara, in his Chronicles, attributes to her the blasphemous words, “That the Lord Jesus could not have sent a worse calamity upon her;” and claims it was for this remark that shortly afterward the town of Guatemala suffered such disaster: the nearby volcano, during a violent storm, suddenly spewed huge stones and clouds of ash, then floods of water from the crater, destroying much of the part of town where Alvarado’s widow lived, drowning her and several ladies of her household. However, this lady never said more than what I have already stated, and Gomara’s words are his own invention. If it pleased the Lord Jesus to call her from this life, it is not for man to question the divine will.

About this terrible storm and earthquake, I will give the details elsewhere. I cannot help noting with regret that, despite the many important services Alvarado and his five brothers—and the other Alvarados—rendered to the crown, the sons and daughters of the first Alvarado retained none of the towns included in his commendary. The fact that he conquered the whole province was not even considered, nor was it remembered that he joined the Grijalva expedition, or took part in all the campaigns with Cortés. The way he, his wife, children, and brothers lost their lives is very striking. Alvarado himself, as we have seen, died in the Cochitlan campaign; his brother Jorge, who fought in some of the campaigns in Mexico and Guatemala, died in Madrid in 1540, where he had gone to seek recognition for his services from the king; Gomez was killed in Peru; Gonzalo died in Oaxaca or Mexico; and Juan, a natural brother, died in Cuba, where he went to review property he owned on the island. Alvarado’s eldest son, Don Pedro, went to Spain with his uncle Juan the younger to present to the king an account of the great services their father had rendered the crown, but neither was heard from again—they must have been lost at sea or captured by Moors. His second son, Don Diego, his father’s property gone, returned to Peru, where he died in battle. As for Alvarado’s widow, as I already described, she and several of her household perished in the earthquake and flood. Thus, sadly, Alvarado died far from his beloved wife and daughters; and his wife, too, died alone, grieving for her husband. One son vanished on the voyage to Spain, another died in Peru. May they rest glorified with the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen!

Recently, two tombs were made near the altar of the principal church of Guatemala. In one, Alvarado’s remains, which were brought to Chiribitio, are to be laid; in the other, Don Francisco de la Cueva and his wife, Doña Leonora (Alvarado’s daughter), have asked to be buried when God calls them from this world.

To return to the armament Alvarado prepared, I must mention that a year later the viceroy ordered the best ships chosen, to be sent out under his relative Villalobos, with instructions to sail west in search of China; but as I never heard how that expedition ended, I will say no more. One thing is certain: Alvarado’s heirs gained nothing from it, and all the immense sums he spent on the venture were lost to his family.

We must now see what Cortés was doing in Spain.

## CHAPTER CCIV. {.chapter}
*What happened to the marquis del Valle on his second visit to Spain.*

When the emperor, after punishing the town of Ghent, assembled a large fleet to besiege Algiers, the marquis del Valle joined the campaign with his eldest son, and also brought his natural son Don Martin Cortés (born by Doña Marina), several pages, servants, and horses, embarking in a fine galley with Don Enrique Enriquez. However, the entire fleet, in the mysterious way of fate, was wrecked in a violent storm. The galley carrying Cortés was destroyed too, and he, along with his son and most of the other gentlemen, barely escaped with their lives. During the chaos, when everyone saw death at hand, Cortés—according to his servants—tied his beautiful jewels in a kerchief and fastened it to his arm (for it was customary for noblemen to carry their jewels), but he lost them in the crush as everyone pushed to save themselves. That must have represented a loss of many thousands of pesos.

After this disastrous loss of men and ships, the principal officers of the royal council of war advised the emperor to abandon the siege of Algiers for now and withdraw to Bugia, since further efforts at Algiers would be wasted. When Cortés, who was deliberately left out of the council of war, learned of this, he declared that if the emperor would entrust the command to him, he would, with God’s help and the luck that had always followed the emperor’s troops, soon capture Algiers even with the few troops left. As the conversation went on, he praised his own officers and comrades-in-arms from the siege of Mexico, saying that they never considered hunger and hardship, that they had proven themselves heroes again and again, and though often wounded and exhausted, never stopped fighting and captured every town and fort they came to.

Many gentlemen present at the time reported this to the emperor, also expressing their regret that Cortés had not sat on the council, and adding that he himself felt hurt by his exclusion. Others said outright that he had been purposely left out because it was obvious he would have opposed the rest of the council and insisted on continuing the siege. After such destruction by the storm, they said, advice was hardly needed; the only sensible thing was to save the emperor and all the noblemen who accompanied him on the expedition. With God’s help, they concluded, the campaign against Algiers could be renewed another time. It was thus resolved to return to Spain.

After this unfortunate expedition, Cortés grew weary of staying at court; and as age was catching up with him, and he felt the effects of his life’s hardships and struggles, his greatest wish was to obtain permission from the emperor to return to New Spain. Added to this was the disappointment over the broken marriage match between his daughter, Doña Maria, and Don Alvaro Pérez Osorio, heir to the marquisate of Astorga, to whom Cortés had promised as a marriage gift over 100,000 gold ducats and other valuables. Doña Maria had come to Seville from Mexico at her father’s request for the wedding, so he was much pained and annoyed when the engagement was broken. The fault, it seems, was with the bridegroom. This disappointment aggravated Cortés’s distress so much that he developed a fever with dysentery. Seeing that he was becoming seriously ill, he left Seville for Castilleja de la Cuesta to seek more rest. There he set his affairs in order, made his will, and passed away on September 2, 1547, after receiving the holy sacraments and last rites. He was buried with great ceremony in the chapel of the dukes of Medina Sidonia, followed by a large number of clergy and gentlemen. Later, his remains were taken to New Spain and, as his will directed, interred in either Coyoacán or Texcoco, I forget which.

Regarding Cortés’s age: when we first set out with him from Cuba for New Spain in 1519, he often said in conversation that he was thirty-four years old. Twenty-eight years passed from that time until his death, making him sixty-two at his passing.

Cortés left the following children born in lawful marriage: the present marquis Don Martin; Doña Maria, who was to have married Don Pérez Osorio but later married the earl of Luna de León; Doña Juana, married to Don Hernando Enriquez, heir to the marquisate of Tarifa; and Doña Catalina de Arellano, who died in Seville. Another daughter, Doña Leonor, was married to a wealthy Basque, Juan de Tolosa, who lived in Mexico and owned rich silver mines. When the present marquis del Valle arrived in New Spain, he strongly disapproved of this match.

Cortés also had two sons and three daughters born out of wedlock. One son, Don Martin, was a commander of Santiago, born by the interpreter Doña Marina. The other, Don Luis, was also a commander of Santiago, by a woman named Hermosilla. Of the daughters, one was named Pizarro by her mother, a Cuban Indian woman; the other was by a Mexican woman. Cortés had provided very well for these daughters, giving them lucrative estates like that of Chinanta, and no doubt remembered them in his will; for he was a careful and thoughtful man, and had ample time near the end to set all his affairs in order and clear his conscience. In this way, like a good Christian, he also left a fund to build a hospital in Mexico and a convent in Coyoacán, where he wished his remains to be buried. He also left large donations for other charitable works. However, to avoid getting bogged down in detail, I will say no more, and in fact have forgotten some points concerning his bequests.

Cortés’s coat of arms and motto displayed his great valor and were fitting symbols of his achievements. The motto was in Latin, but not being a Latin scholar, I won’t attempt to explain it. His escutcheon bore the chained heads of seven monarchs he had conquered. As I believe, and as others have told me, these represent Motecuhzoma of Mexico, Cacamatzin of Texcoco, Cuitlahuatzin of Iztapalapan; the kings of Tlacopan and Coyoacán, a powerful cacique from Tulapa near Matlatzinco (a nephew of Motecuhzoma and heir to the Mexican throne), and finally Quauhtemotzin, who fought those terrible battles against us during the siege of Mexico.

I should say a word on Cortés’s appearance. He was of good height and well-proportioned, strongly built, but his complexion was rather ashen-grey and his expression was not especially cheerful—had his face been a bit fuller, he would have been more handsome. His eyes, for the most part, had a strikingly gentle look, though they could also appear stern. The hair of his beard and head was black but not thick. He had a broad chest and shoulders, his legs were slightly bowed, but his ankles and feet were well shaped. He was not stout but rather thin. He was an excellent horseman, and highly skilled in all forms of soldiering, whether on horseback or on foot; but above all else, he was exceptionally brave, never shrinking from danger. In his younger days, while living in Hispaniola, he became involved in many affairs concerning women, and often duelled with expert swordsmen to gain some lady’s favor, always winning in the end. On one such occasion, he was wounded under the lower lip, the scar of which could be seen through his beard. His manners, his walk, his conversation, the way he behaved at dinner, and even his taste in dress all showed him to be a gentleman of high rank and breeding. He always kept up with current fashion, wearing little silk, satin, or costly damask; all his clothing was plain but neat. He never overloaded himself with gold chains, using always the same one of exquisite workmanship, which had a trinket attached—on one side, an image of the Virgin with her holy Child; on the other, St. John the Baptist, with a Latin inscription. He wore a valuable ring set with a splendid diamond, and on his velvet cap, a medal with a bust in relief and some name, though he later wore only cloth caps with no medal.

His household was kept in high style, with two master stewards and two major-domos at its head, many pages, and everything served in gold and silver. He always dined well and drank about a pint of wine, diluted with water. He also had supper; all his dishes were plain except for special occasions, when no expense was spared. He was always friendly with us officers and his fellow soldiers, especially those who joined him early in Cuba. He was a good Latin scholar and always spoke that language with educated men—indeed, I have heard he held a bachelor’s degree in law. He also loved poetry, wrote several charming verses, and composed good prose. His speech was calm, and his words well chosen, his logic very persuasive. In the mornings, he said his prayers from the breviary and attended mass every day with sincere devotion. His patron saint was the Blessed Virgin; he also especially venerated St. Peter, St. James, and St. John the Baptist, and was generous in giving alms. His oath was, “Upon my conscience!” and when annoyed with any of us more familiar soldiers, he would say, “May the plague take you!” When truly angry, a vein bulged in his forehead and neck; when very vexed, he would throw down his cloak—yet he never used crude or unworthy language to his officers or men. He had great patience; and though the soldiers sometimes acted with shocking disrespect, he never lost control or lashed out, saying instead, “Hold your tongue!” or, “In God’s name, be off, and behave better in the future, for such conduct will cost you dearly.” If he had made up his mind on an issue, especially about war, there was no persuading him; no matter our arguments about the risks in his commands, we had to obey, whatever the consequences. This happened often in our expeditions to the major towns near the lake of Mexico, and in our assaults on those mountains now called the Marquis Mountains. On that occasion, we all said it would be impossible to storm the cliffs under the huge boulders being rolled down on us; all our bravery and experience would mean nothing—we would all be crushed. Our remonstrations meant nothing; we were ordered to climb and risk our lives scaling the rocks. The result was a complete disaster—ten or twelve men were killed outright and the rest of us wounded. During the Honduras expedition, after Cristóbal de Olid had rebelled, I urged Cortés many times to take the route through the mountains, but he always insisted on marching along the coast, refusing to believe that my chosen route was inhabited the whole way. Yet those who know the region realize there is a direct road from Guacasualco, through Chiapas and Guatemala, to Naco, Olid’s headquarters. Still, I must admit that Cortés was always the first to pitch in for any hard work. When we built the fortifications of Vera Cruz, he was first to take up a spade and break ground for the foundations. In every battle, he was always found in the thick of the action. Even as early as the battle of Tabasco—when he bravely led the cavalry—he showed what kind of leader he was; the good example he set at the building of Vera Cruz I have already mentioned. Then consider his resolution when his top officers and soldiers advised scuttling the fleet of thirteen ships—which, contrary to Gomara’s claim, he did not do without consulting us. In the three battles with the warriors of Tlaxcala, he proved himself the bravest of commanders. And how daring it was to march into Mexico City with only 400 men and arrest a ruler like Motecuhzoma in his palace, surrounded by thousands of warriors! It is true he had brave officers and soldiers to guide him, yet it was a remarkably bold step when he ordered Motecuhzoma’s generals—who had killed Juan de Escalante and seven men—to be burned before the palace itself. Again, how audacious and risky it was at first to lead Narvaez and his 1,300 armored men along with a few small gifts and then, with only 266 men armed with pikes and swords, to attack, defeat, and take the commander prisoner! He showed wondrous courage attacking the great temple of Huitzilopochtli, before our disastrous retreat from the city—though neither his courage nor ours, in the end, availed us. Shortly after, at the memorable battle of Otumba, where the cream of the Mexican army was arrayed to wipe us out, it was Cortés who made the first dash at the Mexican general bearing the imperial standard and brought him down, and at once the enemy’s courage faltered—though, to be fair, he was bravely aided by his officers Alvarado, Sandoval, Olid, Ordás, Domínguez, Lares, Tapia, and soldiers who were not mounted, though I will not name them all; even some of Narvaez’s men fought bravely then. It was Juan de Salamanca of Ontiveros who brought down the Mexican general and took away his splendid headdress, which he gave Cortés. How grave our danger in Iztapalapan! Near Xochimilco, the Mexicans had already pulled him from his horse; and if not for our Tlaxcalan allies and the valiant Cristóbal de Olea of Old Castile, he would have been captured. In that disastrous fight on the causeway, where sixty-two of our men were taken prisoner and sacrificed, the enemy had already seized our general and wounded his foot. At that desperate moment, Olea again rescued him, helped him remount, and thus saved him from a terrible death. Alas, this heroism cost Olea his own life; even now, as I write, I remember Christóbal de Olea’s figure and great strength, and my heart aches, for we were from the same place and he was distantly related to me. I will not recount more of the marquis’s heroic deeds, for they are so many and so remarkable I would never finish. Instead, I will mention a few of his peculiar habits.

He was very fond of gambling at cards and dice, though he never lost his temper at play, and delighted in witty phrases common among gamblers. Nothing exceeded his vigilance in war; at night, he personally visited the sentries and posts, even the huts of each soldier, checking whether weapons were ready and shoes on. Those he caught neglectful, he sharply rebuked, calling them “mangy sheep weighed down by their own wool.” During our march to Honduras, he developed a peculiar problem: if he did not have a short nap after dinner, he was so unwell he would vomit everything he had eaten. So we always laid a carpet for him in the shade, wherever we were, right after his meal—regardless of heat or rain, he would have his rest. During the conquest of New Spain he was very thin, but after our return from Honduras, he became extremely fat and big-bellied. When his beard began to grey, he dyed it black. In New Spain and during his first return to Castile, he was extremely generous, but on his second return in 1540 he gained a reputation for stinginess; in fact, one of his servants, Ulloa, even sued him for unpaid wages. Looking at his life after the conquest of New Spain, we see it was full of trouble and sorrow. The expeditions he outfitted cost him immense sums, yielding no gain. Both his voyages to Honduras and California were unsuccessful. Still, I hope he earns a reward in heaven; I believe he will, for he was an honest gentleman and a devoted worshipper of the Blessed Virgin, St. Peter, and other saints. May God forgive his sins and mine, and grant me a happy death—more important than all our conquests and victories over the Indians.

## CHAPTER CCV. {.chapter}
*About the brave officers and soldiers who sailed from the island of Cuba with the fortunate and spirited captain Hernando Cortes, later known as the Marquis del Valle.*

First, I must mention the Marquis Don Hernando Cortes himself, who died at Castilleja de la Cuesta, near Seville. Then come the following officers and soldiers.

Don Pedro de Alvarado, who, after the conquest of New Spain, became a commander of Santiago, chief justice, and governor of Guatemala, Honduras, and Chiapa. As previously noted, he was accidentally killed in the province of Xalisco.

Gonzalo de Sandoval, a highly distinguished officer; he served as alguacil-mayor, and for a short period was joint governor of New Spain with Alonso de Estrada. His majesty was well informed of Sandoval’s heroic conduct on every occasion. Sandoval died at Palos, while on his way to court with Cortes to pay respects to the emperor.

Christobal de Oli, a very brave officer, was our quartermaster-general during the campaign in New Spain; he was beheaded at Naco for having revolted with the troops entrusted to his command by Cortes.

When Cortes, after the conquest of New Spain, first appeared at court, he especially praised these three officers, telling his majesty that, in the army with which he conquered New Spain, he had three officers comparable to the most celebrated of any age. The first, he said, was Pedro de Alvarado, not only very courageous but also graceful in manner—just the man to become the father of a line of heroes. The second was Christobal de Oli, whom he called a true Hector in battle when fighting man to man; yet, had he known how to command, he would have been even greater than a Hector. Regarding Gonzalo de Sandoval, Cortes said that he combined command, courage, and valor to such a degree as to make him one of the finest officers Spain had ever known—someone on whom he could always depend, and whose actions matched his words.

On that occasion, Cortes also spoke of other brave soldiers who campaigned with him in New Spain. It is, however, unfortunate that he did not mention our names with the same praise in his first despatches as he did when before his majesty. In those despatches, he claimed all the glory and credit for the conquests himself; he did not mention the names or heroic deeds of his officers and soldiers. Instead, he wrote, “This I did, and thus I commanded my officers to do.” All that remained for us was the blank sheet at the end, where we barely had room to sign our names.

But let us continue listing our brave companions in arms.

First, there was Juan Velasquez de Leon, an officer of great courage and boldness, who lost his life at one of the bridges on the Night of Sorrows.

Don Francisco de Montejo, who, after the conquest of Mexico, became chief justice of Yucatan, and died in New Spain.

Luis Marin, a courageous and distinguished officer, died a natural death.

Pedro de Ircio, a man of medium height who took short steps, was very passionate, and constantly talked about his heroic deeds and adventures in Spain. Yet, among us, who saw none of these exploits, he was held in little regard. We often called him the Second Agramant—many words and few deeds. He briefly served as an officer in Sandoval’s expedition to Tepeaquilla.

Andreas de Tapia, an officer of unusual courage, died in Mexico.

Juan de Escalante, commandant of Vera Cruz during our first march to Mexico, was captured by the Indians in the battle of Almeria and died soon after from his wounds. In that battle, seven other soldiers were killed, though I have forgotten their names. This was the first defeat we suffered in New Spain.

Alonso de Avila, a courageous officer but inclined toward quarrels; because of this, Cortes appointed him contador and sent him on business to Hispaniola, where the Hieronymite brotherhood resided and the royal court of audience convened. To further appease him, Cortes gave him several gold bars and valuable trinkets.

Francisco de Lugo, a natural son of a nobleman from Medina del Campo, named Alvaro de Lugo; he too was exceptionally brave and died a natural death.

Andreas de Monjaraz was, for some time, captain in Mexico, but suffered from chronic illness, especially severe swellings in his groin, which made him unfit for military service. He too died in his bed.

Gregorio de Monjaraz, brother of the former, was an excellent soldier who became deaf during the siege of Mexico and died a natural death.

Diego de Ordas participated in the first campaign in Mexico, became a commander of the order of Santiago after the conquest of New Spain, and perished in an expedition to the river Marannon.

I have previously described the deaths of the four Alvarado brothers in an earlier chapter.

Juan de Xaramillo commanded a brigantine during the siege of Mexico, married our interpreter Doña Marina, was a man of distinction, and also died a natural death.

Christobal de Flores, a courageous man, was killed during Nuño de Guzman’s expedition to the province of Xalisco.

Christobal de Gamboa, Cortes’ equerry, died a natural death.

Calcedo, a wealthy man, also died in his bed.

Francisco de Saucedo, from Medina de Rioseco, was always neatly dressed and nicknamed “the gallant.” He had previously been maestresala to the admiral of Castile and died on the Night of Sorrows.

Gonzalo Dominiguez, a man of great courage and an excellent cavalryman, was captured by the Indians and died in captivity.

Francisco de Morla, from Xerez, also a brave and skilled cavalryman, died on the Night of Sorrows.

Another Morla, from Ciudad Rodrigo, was killed during an expedition to the mountains of Guatemala.

Francisco de Bonal, from Salamanca, another brave man, died a natural death.

There were two men named Lares, one a cavalryman, the other a crossbowman; both died at the bridges on the Night of Sorrows.

Simon de Cuenca, Cortes’ major-domo, was killed, along with seven other Spaniards, by the Indians of Xicalango.

Francisco de Medina, who served as captain on one of our campaigns, met the same fate. Along with him, fifteen other soldiers were killed, but I cannot recall their names.

Maldonado, of Salamanca, whom we called “the Broad,” was an officer who greatly distinguished himself. He died a natural death.

The two brothers Francisco and Juan Chico, from Fregenal. The first was a merchant and died of illness at St. Domingo; the second died while a captive of the Indians.

Francisco de Terrazas, Cortes’ major-domo, distinguished himself as a soldier and died a natural death.

Christobal del Corral, our first standard-bearer in Mexico and a man of great bravery, returned to Spain and died there.

Antonio de Villareal, married to Isabella de Ojeda, later changed his name to Antonio Serrano de Cardona. He died a natural death.

Francisco Rodrigues Magarino, who distinguished himself greatly, also died in his bed.

Likewise, Francisco Flores, who was of a noble family and resided in Guaxaca.

Alonso de Grado, who was more adept at business than at soldiering, continuously petitioned Cortés until he gave him Doña Isabella, Motecusuma’s daughter, in marriage. He also died in his bed.

There were four soldiers named Solis. One was quite elderly and died on the night of sorrows. The second was an eccentric man we called "the helmet," and he ended his days in Guatemala. The third was Pedro, whom we nicknamed "Tras la Puerta" because he was always peeking out behind his door to see who was passing by, yet no one ever managed to see him. The fourth de Solis was called "the warrior," but sometimes, as a joke, we also called him "the silk coat," for he claimed his health was always good when he wore silk. All these brothers died natural deaths.

The valiant soldiers Berritez and Juan Ruano both died on the night of sorrows.

Bernardino Vasquez de Tapia, a highly respected officer, died a natural death and left behind substantial wealth.

Christobal de Olea, from Medina del Campo, was a soldier of extraordinary courage, and it can truly be said that, next to God, he twice saved Cortés’s life, as mentioned in earlier chapters.

We also had another brave soldier among us, who had only one hand; his other hand had been cut off in Spain as punishment per a sentence passed upon him. This man died in Indian captivity.

Another soldier named Tuvilla likewise lost his life this way. He limped on one foot and claimed he had fought in the battle of Garigliano, under the great captain.

Of the two brothers Gonsalo and Juan Ximena, the first died in Indian captivity, while the latter died as alcalde-mayor of Vera Cruz.

Juan Cuellar, an excellent cavalryman, married the beautiful Doña Anna, daughter of the king of Tezcuco, and died peacefully in bed; so did the other Cuellar, a relative of Francisco Verdugo.

Santos Hernandez, from Soria, was somewhat elderly, and we usually called him the good old scout. He also died like the two mentioned above.

Pedro Moreno Medrano lived for some time in Vera Cruz and often served as an ordinary alcalde. Committed to strict justice, he later lived in Puebla. He was a brave soldier and deeply loyal to his monarch. He, too, died in his bed.

Juan Limpias de Carvajal, a courageous soldier, commanded one of the brigantines and became deaf in battle. He died peacefully, as did Melchior de Galvez, who settled in Guaxaca.

Roman Lopez, a man of great bravery, lost an eye during the siege of Mexico and later died in Guaxaca.

Villandromo, a relative of the Earl of Ribadeo, was also an excellent soldier and died in his bed. Osorio, from Old Castile, a soldier of remarkable bravery with considerable influence in Vera Cruz, also died a natural death.

The fine soldier Rodrigo Castaneda died in Spain.

Pilar, who made great contributions as an interpreter, died during Nuño de Guzmán’s expedition against Cojohuacan.

A soldier named Granado is still alive in Mexico.

The skilled soldier Martin Lopez provided invaluable assistance in building the thirteen brigantines, without which we likely would not have conquered the city of Mexico. He is still living and resides in this town.

The crossbowmen Juan de Naxara and Ojeda were both outstanding soldiers, the latter losing an eye during the siege of Mexico and now living among the Zapotecs.

La Serna had some silver mines, but I don’t know what became of him.

Alonso Hernandez Puerto Carrero, a gentleman of outstanding character, was imprisoned by the bishop of Burgos, as previously mentioned, and died not long after. He was one of the principal officers who first set out with us from Cuba, and I admit that I should have mentioned his name earlier had I recalled him sooner.

Alonso or Juan Luis was remarkably tall, and we jokingly called him "the little child." He died in Indian captivity. So did Alonso Monroy, who was believed to be the son of a commander of the Order of Santiago.

Hernando Burguenno died a natural death; he too was an excellent soldier.

Villalobos and Juan del Rio both returned wealthy to Spain.

Both Tirado, from Puebla, who was a merchant, and a certain Navarette died in their beds.

Juan Rico de Alanis died in Indian captivity. Another fine soldier was Gonsalo Hernandez de Alanis.

Francisco Martin de Vendabel and his comrade Pedro de Gallego were captured and sacrificed to the Mexican idols. The capture of these men was entirely due to Cortés, who, while attempting to set an ambush for the enemy, was ambushed himself.

There were three soldiers named Truxillos, all men of remarkable courage, but all of whom died in Indian captivity.

Juan Flamenco, Francisco de Barco, who was in command at Cholula, and Juan Perez, who murdered his own wife, all three died a natural death.

Najera, the hunchback, was exceptionally witty; another hunchback, named Madrid, was also a brave soldier, and both were either killed in Zacatula or Colima.

Juan de Inhiesta and Alamilla, both excellent crossbowmen, with Moron, a talented musician, and the brave soldier Valera, all four died a natural death. So did the courageous Villafuerte, who married a relative of Cortés’s first wife, and one named Gutierres. Valladolid, called "the stout," who was an outstanding soldier, died in Indian captivity.

Pacheco distinguished himself greatly, as did Hernando de Lerma (or Lerna), who was a captain. Both died peacefully in Mexico.

Suarez the elder, who killed his wife with a stone mortar, also died a natural death.

Angula, Francisco Gutierrez, and Santa Clara, all three born in Havana, died in Indian captivity.

Garci Caro and Larios the younger both died natural deaths and had settled in Mexico.

Juan Gorrez lived for some time in Guatemala, then returned to Spain a wealthy man.

Of the two brothers Ximenes, from Linguijuela in Estremadura, one died peacefully in bed, and the other in Indian captivity. The two brothers Florin similarly ended their lives, one in bed and one in captivity.

Gonzalez de Najara, and his two nephews Ramirez: the former was killed in the mountains of Guatemala, while the latter two perished on the night of sorrows.

The brave soldier Amaya and the two brothers Carmonas, of Xerez, died a natural death. So did one of the two Vargas brothers of Seville; the other died in Indian captivity.

The brave soldier Polanco, from Avila, settled in Guatemala and died a natural death.

Hernan Lopez de Avila managed the estates of deceased individuals and amassed great wealth, with which he later returned to Spain.

Bernardino de Corio, Juan de Aragon, and a certain Santisteban died of natural causes.

Bartolomé Pardo and a certain Cieza died while in Indian captivity.

Pedro Escudero, Juan Cermenno, and his brother were excellent soldiers. Recall that the first two were hanged by Cortes for attempting to desert with one of the ships to Cuba.

The pilot Gonzalo de Umbria was also an excellent soldier, who, by order of Cortes, had his feet cut off. His Majesty later granted him an annual pension of 2,000 pesos or some Indian encomiendas; but, fearing Cortes, he dared not return to Spain.

Rodrigo Rangel was a very talented man, but he never made a name for himself as a soldier, and he died from severe swellings in his groin.

Francisco de Orozco suffered from the same affliction. He had served in the Italian campaigns; he was sent to command a small detachment in Tepeaca while we were stationed in Mexico. However, I do not know what ultimately happened to him.

Mesa, who had previously served as an artilleryman in Italy, drowned in a river after the conquest of Mexico.

Alobancho, from Old Castile, a man of great courage, died while in Indian captivity.

Luis Velasquez, from Arevalo, perished on the Honduras expedition.

Alonso de Barrientos escaped to the Indians of Chinanta when the Mexicans killed twenty-six men and five Spanish women at Tustepec.

Almodovar, with his son and two nephews. One of the nephews died in Indian captivity; the others died a natural death.

The two brothers Martinez, from Fregenal—both brave soldiers—and a certain Logos, who also distinguished himself, all three died in Indian captivity.

Juan del Puerto, also an excellent soldier, died from a disease of the groin.

Father Olmedo, a great theologian, an excellent singer, and a man of remarkable virtues, died a natural death.

Sancho de Avila, from Garrobillas, died in Indian captivity. It was said he was worth 6,000 pesos before leaving St. Domingo, but though he returned to Spain with this fortune, he lost it all gambling.

Alonso Hernandez de Palo, an older man, had two nephews with him, one of whom was an outstanding crossbowman. Both nephews died a natural death, but the uncle died in Indian captivity. The same fate befell Alonso de la Mesa and Rabanal Montannes, both excellent soldiers.

Pedro de Guzman married Doña Francisca de Valtierra, from Valencia, with whom he traveled to Peru. It was said that both, along with their horses, a Black servant, and several others, froze to death.

Christobal Diaz, an excellent crossbowman from Colmenar de Arenas, died peacefully in his bed.

The soldier Ratamales was killed by Indians in Tabasco. The brave soldiers Gines Nortes, Luis Alonso, and Alonso Catalan were killed in Yucatan.

Juan Siciliano settled in Mexico, where he died a natural death.

Camillas served as a drummer in both Italy and New Spain, but was captured by Indians. The same misfortune befell Hernandez, Cortes’s private secretary, and Juan Diaz, who had a cataract in one eye and was an officer in Cortes’s household.

Diego de Coria died a natural death in Mexico.

Juan Nuñez Mercado came to New Spain as a very young man, and now lives in Puebla, but is blind in both eyes.

Juan Sedenno was also an excellent soldier and considered the wealthiest among us. He was highly respected in New Spain and died a peaceful death.

Balnor, of Trinidad, died while in Indian captivity.

Saragoza joined us as an older man and died of natural causes.

Diego Martin de Ayamente shared the same fate and was also an excellent soldier.

Cardenas, a nephew of the comendador-mayor Cardenas, died in Indian captivity. The other Cardenas was a sailor from Triana who brought accusations against Cortes, and received an annuity of 1,000 pesos from His Majesty. He died a natural death in Mexico.

Arguello, from Leon, an excellent soldier; Vazquez, a man of remarkable strength and courage; and Arroyuelo de Olmedo—all three died in Indian captivity.

Diego Hernandez helped build the brigantines, became blind, and died a natural death.

Pizarro had the rank of captain, was related to Cortes, and died in Indian captivity.

Alvaro Lopez, who settled in Puebla, died in his bed. Likewise, the soldier Yannez, from Cordoba, who had joined us on the Honduras expedition. When he returned, he found his wife had remarried, but he never took her back.

The excellent soldier Magallanes, a Portuguese, was an agile walker, and with his countryman Platero, died in Indian captivity.

The four other Portuguese soldiers—Martin de Alpedrino, Juan Alvarez Rabaso, Gonzalo Sanchez (a man of great physical strength), and Gonzalo Rodriguez, who was the most distinguished of them—all died a natural death.

Of two other Portuguese named Villanuevas, both very tall men, I know only that they settled in Puebla.

Of the three Avilas: Gaspar died a natural death; another, who was always in the service of Andreas de Tapia, died in Indian captivity; and the third settled somewhere in New Spain.

Two soldiers named Vandadas, both quite elderly, and three others named Espinosa all died in Indian captivity. One of the Espinosas we called "God bless you," because he was always saying it—a fine expression. He died in peace. The courageous soldier Pedro Poron, of Toledo, did the same. Another excellent soldier, named Villasinda, from Portillo, joined a Franciscan monastery.

Of the two brave San Juans, one, called the “high-minded,” died in Indian captivity; the other died peacefully in his bed. The courageous soldier Izguierdo, from Castro Mocho, did the same. Caceres, from Truxillo, was also an intrepid soldier, captured by Indians. Alonso de Herrera was a courageous warrior, who for a time commanded in Zapotec territory and fought a duel with Figuero during Estrada’s administration. He died among the Indians of the Maranon. Figuero drowned on his journey back to Spain.

There was also a young man named Maldonado, from Medellin, who was always afflicted with a disease of the groin, but I do not recall what became of him. He should not be confused with another soldier of the same name, who married Doña Maria de Rincon. The soldier Morales, who was elderly and limped on one foot, served as one of the ordinary alcaldes in Vera Cruz; he maintained good order and was considered an honest man.

Escalona the younger died in Indian captivity. The three soldiers—Arevalo, Juan Leon, and Madrigal—who settled in Vera Cruz, never participated in any of our battles, and all three died natural deaths.

Lencero, who owned the Venta known as Venta de Lencero, between Vera Cruz and Puebla, was an excellent soldier and joined the Order of the Brothers of Charity. His example was followed by Alonso Duran, who was near-sighted and typically served as sacristan.

Navarro, who usually spent time with Sandoval’s servants, died a natural death in Vera Cruz.

Another brave soldier, Alonso Talavera, died in Indian captivity.

Of the two Indians we brought with us from Cuba, one died in Indian captivity, the other died peacefully in his bed.

The drummer Benito Bejel, who had served in the Italian campaigns, and Alonso Romero, who settled down as a wealthy man in Vera Cruz, both died natural deaths.

Sindos de Portillo received a very lucrative commendary, which brought him considerable wealth. However, he gave up all his worldly possessions, sold them at public auction, distributed the money to the poor, and joined the Order of the Brothers of Charity.

The courageous soldier Quintero also joined this order; he owned considerable property, which he gave entirely to the church.

Alonso de Aguilar was also wealthy. He sold all he owned and joined the Dominican order.

Another wealthy soldier named Varguillas entered the Franciscan order but eventually left the monastery.

Another excellent soldier, Escalante, noted for his neatness and skill as a cavalryman, also joined the Franciscan order.

Gaspar Diaz, from Old Castile, was a man of significant wealth; but he gave up all his property and lived as a hermit in the most desolate part of the mountains near Huexotzinco. He slept on straw and led such a harsh life of penance that he grew very weak. When Bishop Don Juan de Zumarroga learned of this, he advised him not to be so severe with himself. Nonetheless, Gaspar became so renowned for his piety that others joined him, and he died after four years, entering eternal glory.

Ribadeo from Galicia, whom we nicknamed “the winebibber” because of his drinking, was killed in the battle of Almeria. The same thing happened to another soldier, whom we called “the little Galician” on account of his short stature.

Lerma, who once saved Cortés’s life, was a courageous soldier; but after some misconduct, he fled to the Indians and we never heard from him again.

Pinedo was also an excellent soldier and had previously served under the governor of Cuba. He was sent by Narvaez to Mexico but was killed by Indians on the way.

The skilled crossbowman Pedro Lopez died peacefully in his bed. Another soldier with the same name accompanied Alonso de Avila to Hispaniola, where he died.

One of our three smiths was captured by Indians; the other two died natural deaths. One was named Juan Garcia, the second Hernan Martin, and I’ve forgotten the name of the third.

Alvaro of Galicia also died a natural death in Mexico. Paredes, who was already old and still has a son living in Yucatan, died among the Indians. The same fate met Gonzalo Meia Rapapelo, who claimed to be a nephew of that Meia who, with a certain Canteno, committed many robberies during King John’s reign.

Pedro de Tapia died of gout some time after the conquest of Mexico.

Of all our pilots—Anton de Alaminos, his son with the same name, Camacho, Manquillo, Sopuerta, Cardenas, and Gonzalo Umbria—only Sopuerta settled in New Spain. The others, fearing Cortés’s anger because they had given Garay some information about the land from which he obtained the post of governor, did not dare return.

Another pilot, Lucas de Genna, died in Indian captivity. His countryman Lorenzo settled in Guaxaca, where he died after marrying an elderly Portuguese woman. Enrique de Palencia drowned while crossing a river, weighed down by his armor. The carpenter, Christobal de Jaen, died in Indian captivity.

Ochoa, from Biscay, a man of wealth and position, died a natural death in Guaxaca. The brave Zamisdio was forced to flee Mexico after killing several people. He returned to Spain, became an officer, and died, along with other knights, near Locastil.

The jester Cervantes died among the Indians. The same fate befell Plazuela and Alonso Perez Maite, who had married a beautiful Indian woman from Bayamo.

Martin Vasquez, from Olmedo, died respected and wealthy in Mexico. The same goes for Sebastian Rodriguez, a remarkable crossbowman, and his comrade Pennalosa.

The sailor Alvaro was killed by Indians during our expedition to Honduras. It was said he had fathered thirty children by Indian women.

Both Pedro Sabrite and Juan Perez Malinche, whose real name was Artiaga, died natural deaths.

Geronimo de Aguilar was an excellent soldier. After spending several years captive among the Indians, he died of a disease of the groin.

Pedro Valenciano, who lived in Mexico, and two of the three soldiers called Tarifas, died natural deaths. One of them settled in Guaxaca and married Catalina Muñoz. The second, whom we called “Tarifa of Services” because he always boasted about the many services he did for His Majesty for free; the third, called “Tarifa with the white hands,” because he was neither fit for service nor anything else but always told old stories about Seville, drowned with his horse in a river in the Golfo Dulce during our Honduras expedition.

Pedro Sanchez Farsan, who commanded Tezcuco during the siege of Mexico, died a natural death.

Alonso de Escobar, who liked to mention he was once page to the governor of Cuba, was killed by Indians. Another Escobar, the bachelor, worked as an apothecary and tended our wounds. He died raving mad. A third soldier of this name had an even more unfortunate end: though an exceptionally brave soldier, he was hanged for mistreating a married woman.

A soldier named Santiago, from Huelva, returned to Spain a wealthy man. His comrade Ponce died in Indian captivity. Another named Mendes also died that way; he was already elderly when he joined our ranks.

Three of our men were killed in the battles of Tabasco; but Saldaña is the only one I recall by name.

Orteguilla the elder and his son, also Orteguilla, who for a time served as page to Motecusuma, were killed by Indians. Gaona, the brave Luis Farsan, and Morillas shared a similar fate.

Juan de Caceres died a wealthy man in Mexico.

Gonzalo Hurones and Ramirez the elder both died natural deaths.

Rojas went to Peru.

Astorgos was already an old man when he arrived in New Spain and died peacefully in Guaxaca.

The brave soldier Valdovinos and Tostado both died among the Indians; but a brother of the latter died more fortunately.

Guillen de la Loa, Andreas Nuñez, and the harper Pedro, with three other soldiers who joined us from one of Garay’s ships, are also worth mentioning. The first was killed by a cannonball, one died a natural death, and the other in Indian captivity. Porras the Redhead, who was a fine singer, suffered the same fate.

Ortiz played the guitar beautifully and taught dancing. He had worked as a miner in Cuba and joined us along with his friend Bartolomé Garcia, the owner of the finest horse in our whole troop. Both died in Indian captivity. The brave and excellent crossbowman Serrano shared a similar fate.

Pedro Valencia of Placencia died of natural causes.

Quintero the navigator and Alonso Rodriguez, who owned profitable gold mines in Cuba, were both killed by the Indians. Gaspar Sanchez, who claimed to be a nephew of the treasurer of Cuba, along with six other soldiers from Narvaez’s division, were killed while storming the Marquis mountain.

Pedro Palma, the first husband of the tall Elvira Lopez, together with the priest Misa and the soldier Trebejo, were hanged—either by Francisco de las Casas or by Gil Gonsalez de Avila—for attempting to incite an insurrection among the troops on their return from Naco. When we came back from Honduras with Luis Marin, we saw the large tree on which the three of them had been hanged.

Father Juan de las Varillas, an excellent theologian and a man of great piety, died a natural death.

Andreas de Mola and the brave soldier Alberza died in captivity among the Indians.

Besides these, there were a number of sailors who proved to be excellent soldiers. Even the boys who served aboard the ships we ran aground fought with remarkable courage. Of these, I only remember the names Pennates and Pinzones. Some of them died among the Indians, and some returned to Spain to bring accusations against Cortes.

Finally, I mention myself; for I made the two exploratory voyages to New Spain before joining Cortes, as has been explained previously. I cannot praise and thank God and the blessed Virgin enough for having protected me in all the battles and saving me from falling into the hands of the Indians, who at that time sacrificed all prisoners to their abhorrent idols. I must also offer my thanks to heaven for giving me the power to record our heroic deeds and to make known to the world the names of all the brave officers and soldiers who conquered New Spain—so that all the honor, glory, and merit in the conquest would not be attributed to just one officer.

## CHAPTER CCVI. {.chapter}
*On the stature, appearance, and age of several brave officers and soldiers when they first joined Cortes.*

I have already spoken in previous chapters about the marquis Don Hernando Cortes and Christobal de Oli. So I will now begin with Don Pedro de Alvarado.

Pedro de Alvarado was a commander of the Order of Santiago, chief justice, and governor of Guatemala, the coast of Honduras, and Chiapa. He may have been about thirty-four years old when he came with us to New Spain. He was of striking and strong build; his face was cheerful, and his eyes had an unusually warm expression. Because of his pleasant appearance, the Mexicans called him Tonatiuh, or “the sun.” He was slender, an excellent horseman, pleasant and sociable in conversation, and notably neat in his attire, always wearing finery made of the richest materials. He usually wore a small gold chain around his neck with a fine jewel attached, and he wore a diamond ring on one finger.

The chief justice and governor of Yucatan, Montejo, was of medium height, had a pleasant expression, was a skilled horseman, and greatly enjoyed all sorts of pleasures. He was about thirty-five years old when he came to New Spain, but he was more of a man of business than a soldier. He was generous by nature but lived beyond his means.

Gonzalo de Sandoval was incredibly brave and heroic. He was only twenty-two years old when he joined us, soon became the chief constable (alguacil-mayor) of New Spain, and served for eleven months as joint governor with Alonso de Estrada. His body was perfectly proportioned and showed great strength; he had a well-developed chest, broad shoulders, and slightly bowed legs. He had a large face; his hair and beard were auburn and curled, as was the fashion. His voice was rough and unpleasant, and he had a slight lisp. He knew only enough about the arts and sciences as necessary, was not greedy, and never took more than his fair share. He liked to see soldiers strictly follow orders but helped and supported them however he could. He did not dress in fine clothes but kept to a soldier’s simplicity. His horse was considered the best-ridden and finest in the whole company; by general opinion, there may not have been a better in Spain. The horse was chestnut, with a white star on the forehead and a white left leg, called Motilla. Its reputation was so great that when someone praises a horse they say, “It is as good as the Motilla.” It was of this officer that Cortes said to the emperor that he had among his men a captain who could never be surpassed in courage and determination and was fit to command even the largest armies. Sandoval was a native of Medellin, a gentleman by birth; his father had been mayor of a fortress.

Juan Velasquez de Leon, from Old Castile, was about twenty-six when he joined us. He was well-formed, with straight limbs, broad chest and shoulders, and was powerfully built. His face was full, and he dyed his curly beard. His voice was harsh and unpleasant, and he stuttered a bit. He was exceptionally brave, pleasant in conversation, and generous to his comrades. It was said he had killed a wealthy and notable cavalryman, Basaltas, in Hispaniola, for which he had to flee; the royal audience sent agents to apprehend him, but he fought so fiercely that he managed to escape to Cuba and then to New Spain. He was an excellent horseman and fought just as well on foot.

Diego de Ordas, of Campas, was forty when he came to New Spain. He was an accomplished swordsman but less skilled as a cavalryman. He was equal to anyone in foresight and courage. He was rather tall and strong-limbed; his face radiated strength, his beard was thin and black. He stuttered a little and often mispronounced words, but he was frank and pleasant in conversation.

Captain Luis Marin was well-built, strong, and courageous. His legs were slightly bowed, his beard reddish, and his face broad, pitted by smallpox but cheerful. He was about thirty when he arrived in New Spain, a native of San Lucar, and lisped a bit like the people of Seville. He was a skilled horseman and a good companion.

Captain Pedro de Ircio was of average height, had short legs, and a pleasant expression. He was always talking, telling stories about Don Pedro Giron or the Earl of Ureña. He was braver in words than in action, so we called him the Agramant of many words and few deeds.

Alonso de Avila was thirty-three when we arrived in New Spain. He was well-built, had a cheerful face, was extremely brave, and eloquent and persuasive in argument. He was open-hearted with his comrades, but rather domineering, jealous, and turbulent; for these reasons, Cortes sent him with Quiñones to Spain to deliver part of Motecusuma and Quauhtemoctzin’s treasure to his majesty. However, he was captured by a French privateer and held in France; he eventually returned to New Spain years later. He was uncle to the two sons of Gil Gonsalez de Benavides, who were beheaded in Mexico.

Andreas de Monjaraz, who held command during the siege of Mexico, was of good stature, had a cheerful face, black beard, and was a pleasant companion. He continually suffered painful swelling in his groin, which prevented him from accomplishing anything noteworthy; I mention him only because he was once put in command. He was about thirty when he arrived in New Spain.

I must also mention the brave soldier Christobal de Olea, a native of Medina del Campo. He was twenty-six when he joined us, of average height; strong and well-proportioned limbs, broad chest and shoulders, full and cheerful face, curly hair and beard, and a strong, clear voice.

I must not forget to mention Gonzalo Dominiguez and Larez, considered equal in bravery to Olea. Both were powerfully built, well-proportioned, with pleasant expressions and excellent characters; truly, they may be counted among Spain’s bravest soldiers.

Andreas de Tapia was also a brave officer, about twenty-four when he joined us. He had a rather unpleasant, pale face and thin beard, but was stately in build. He was an outstanding horseman and foot soldier.

It would be too much detail to describe the appearance of every officer and soldier who fought with Cortes. We were all men of courage and distinction who deserve to have our names written in gold letters. I will also remain silent about many brave officers from Narvaez’s division, since my intent has always been to focus on the brave deeds of the small army that first left for New Spain with Cortes. However, I must make an exception for Pamfilo Narvaez.

Narvaez was about forty-two when he arrived in New Spain with an army of 1,300 men, which our small force of 266 entirely defeated. He was tall, strong-limbed, had red beard, a large but pleasant face, and a powerful, booming voice as if it came from a vault. He was an outstanding horseman and reputed to be very brave; he was from Tudela or Valladolid, on the Duero River, and married to a noblewoman, Maria de Valenzuela. He had settled in Cuba, was considered wealthy, but miserly. He was a skilled speaker and secured for himself the governorship of Florida, where he lost both his life and property.

Several curious gentlemen who had read my detailed descriptions of the officers and soldiers who served under the courageous and fortunate Don Hernando Cortes, marquis del Valle Oaxaca, wondered how I could recall so many details after so many years. I told them there was nothing remarkable about it, given that we were only 550 men in all, who saw each other daily throughout so many campaigns, battles, skirmishes, and while on guard. We were always in conversation and quickly learned what happened to every individual—when someone fell in battle or was captured and sacrificed by the Indians. Moreover, after every engagement, a list of the killed was taken. I do not consider it so extraordinary; for we read in ancient times of generals who personally knew every soldier—even in armies of 30,000 men—such as Mithridates, king of Pontus, a king of Epirus, and Alexander of Macedonia. The famed Carthaginian general Hannibal reportedly knew all his soldiers individually. In our times, Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordoba, known as the “great captain,” is known for this as well. There are many other generals with such strong memories. Beyond this, I remember not only the mannerisms and habits of all my companions in arms, but I could sculpt or draw the forms of their bodies, their way of holding themselves, and the expression on their faces—just as, it is said, Apelles the famed painter of old could, or in later times, Berruguete, Michelangelo, or the renowned Burgales, called the second Apelles. Truly, I would very much like to paint every one of them from life, with the full look of courage that was on their faces in the moment of battle!

Thanks be to God and the blessed Virgin for saving me from being sacrificed to idols, from so many dangers, and making it possible for me to write this history!

## CHAPTER CCVII. {.chapter}
*On the great merit that we, the true Conquistadores, deserve.*

I have now said enough about each individual soldier who accompanied Cortes, and how each one met his end. If anyone wishes to know more about us, I can say that most of us were from good families. Even if the family background of some was not so distinguished, we must remember that not everyone is born equal—not in rank, nor in virtue. However, by the bravery of our arms and our heroic deeds, we conquered New Spain, including the great city of Mexico and many other provinces, rendering extraordinary service to the emperor our master, despite our great distance from Castile; and in all our terrible, day-and-night battles, we had no help except from our Lord Jesus Christ, who is our true strength. What we accomplished is enough to make our fame known throughout the world!

If we read the old histories—and if they are truthful—we see that those who won noble titles for themselves in Spain and elsewhere did so solely by the valor of their arms or by important service to their monarchs. I've noticed that many of those famous soldiers who received titles and great estates only entered the army for the pay, and yet they and their descendants inherited lands, towns, castles, and special privileges and immunities. When the king of Aragon, Don Jayme, reconquered much of his kingdom from the Moors, he divided it among the knights and soldiers who fought with him, and their descendants still carry those coats of arms. The same happened after Granada and Naples were taken by the great captain. The noble house of Orange began in a similar way.

But we added the vast territory of New Spain to the Spanish crown without the king even knowing of it at first; and that is why I have written this memoir, so that our great and important services to God, our emperor, and Christendom may be known. I think if everything is weighed fairly, what we did is just as deserving of reward as those knights of past times.

Though the number of courageous soldiers mentioned earlier was considerable, I myself was not the least among them, and I always had the reputation of being a good soldier. If the curious reader has read this history attentively, they will have seen in how many fierce battles I fought—on the two early voyages of discovery, and in the campaigns with Cortes in New Spain; how I narrowly escaped death twice and avoided being sacrificed to their idols only through sheer effort—along with the terrible hardships I endured from hunger, thirst, cold, and the many dangers facing those who set out to discover new lands.

Now, I will tell about the great benefits Spain has gained from our remarkable conquests.

## CHAPTER CCVIII. {.chapter}
*On the human sacrifices and abominations practiced by the inhabitants of New Spain; how we abolished them and introduced the holy Christian faith into the country.*

After describing our glorious military achievements, I now want to show how these accomplishments served both God and our emperor. These successes came at a great cost—the lives of most of my fellow soldiers—since very few of us were fortunate enough to escape capture and sacrifice by the Indians.

Let me begin by addressing the human sacrifices and other abominations that were prevalent throughout every province we subdued. According to calculations made by the Franciscan monks who arrived in New Spain after Father Olmedo, more than 2,500 people were annually sacrificed to the idols in Mexico and in some towns on the lake itself. Since this barbaric practice also occurred in all other provinces, the total number is undoubtedly much higher. But human sacrifice was not the only horror practiced by the people; if I tried to list every abomination, I would hardly know where to stop. So, I will only recount what I saw and heard myself. Of those victims sacrificed, the faces, ears, tongues, lips, breast, arms, and legs were offered as burnt sacrifices to the idols.

Some provinces practiced circumcision, performed with sharp knives made of flint. The cursed idol temples, known as cues, were as common as churches, chapels, and monasteries in Spain. Every town had its own temples, and these infernal buildings were filled with demonic and monstrous figures. Additionally, every Indian man and woman kept two altars—one near their sleeping area and another near their doorway. On these altars stood several wooden boxes, called petacas, filled with large and small idols, flint sacrificial knives, and books made from tree bark, called amatl, which contained their symbols for the seasons and records of events. Most Indians, especially those living on the coasts and in warmer regions, were given to unnatural lusts. So widespread was this practice that some men even wore women’s clothing and earned a living from such diabolic and cursed acts of lewdness.

The Indians ate human flesh much as we do beef, and there were large wooden cages in every town for fattening men, women, and children who were to be used for sacrifices and feasts. In the same way, all prisoners captured in war were butchered and eaten. There was incest: sons with mothers, fathers with daughters, brothers with sisters, and uncles with nieces. They were addicted to drunkenness to an alarming degree, and the people of Panuco had a filthy and unheard-of custom—injecting their native wine into their bodies with hollow canes, like taking an enema. Many other vices and abominations were present, and every man could take as many wives as he liked.

We, the few veteran Conquistadors who survived all the battles and hazards, succeeded—with God’s help—in steering these people away from their abominations. Thanks to our efforts, they began to lead more moral lives, and the holy doctrine was introduced among them. We were those who first did this important work, and it was not until two years after the conquest, when we had established good morals and better ways among the people, that the devout Franciscan brothers arrived; three or four years later, virtuous monks of the Dominican order came, furthering the work and spreading Christianity. The first part of the work, though, was accomplished by us, the true Conquistadors, and by the Brothers of Charity who accompanied us. To us and to them belongs the credit and praise for sowing the first seeds of Christianity among these peoples: for when the beginning is good, the continuation and completion are sure to be equally praiseworthy!

But enough of this; I will now discuss the great benefits the people of New Spain gained from our efforts on their behalf.

## CHAPTER CCIX. {.chapter}
*How we introduced the Christian religion among the Indians; on their conversion and baptism; and the new trades we taught them.*

After idolatry and other abominations had been abolished among the Indians, the Almighty blessed our work, and we baptized the men, women, and all the children born after the conquest—souls who otherwise would have been lost. With God’s help, and thanks to the wise regulation of our most Christian monarch, Don Carlos of glorious memory, and his excellent son Don Philip, our happy and invincible king (may God grant him long life and greater dominion), several pious monks from different orders arrived in New Spain. These men traveled from place to place, preached the gospel, and baptized newborns. Through their tireless work, Christianity took root in the hearts of the people, so much so that the inhabitants now attend confession every year; those better instructed in our faith even receive the holy communion. Their churches are richly adorned with altars, crucifixes, candelabras, chalices of various sizes, censers, and everything required for our ceremonies, all made of pure silver. The wealthier townships have choir vestments, chasubles, and full priestly vestments, often in velvet damask or silk, of varied colors and kinds. Flags attached to the crosses are made of silk and ornately decorated with gold and pearls. Funeral crosses are covered with satin and bear the image of a skull and crossbones; funeral palls in some towns are also quite splendid. The churches are equipped with sets of bells, have choirs, and musicians with flutes, dulcimers, clarions, sackbuts, and some even have organs. I dare say there are more trumpets, large and small, in the province of Guatemala, where I am writing this, than in my native Old Castile. It is truly wonderful—and we cannot thank God enough—to see Indians participating in the celebration of holy mass, especially in places where the Franciscan friars or Brothers of Charity officiate.

It was also a great blessing that the monks taught the Indians to say prayers in their own language and to repeat them often. The monks have made them so respectful toward all things religious, that they never pass any altar or cross without kneeling down to recite a Pater Noster or Ave Maria. We also taught the Indians to make wax candles for services; they made no use of their native wax before our arrival. We taught them such obedience and courtesy toward monks and priests that whenever one of these religious arrives in a town, bells are rung and the people go out to meet him bearing candles, and always offer him hospitality. On the feast of Corpus Christi, the Nativity of Mary, and other saint’s days, when we hold processions, the people around Guatemala also march in procession with crosses, candles, and carry their patron saint splendidly dressed, singing hymns all the while to flute and trumpet music. The people have also learned various Spanish trades to a very high level. They have real workshops with all sorts of tools and earn a good living by their own industriousness—the gold and silver workers are especially talented, both in smelting as well as hammering. The lapidaries and painters are highly skilled, and the sculptors produce astonishing works from emeralds and fine steel tools. For example, they carve images of our Lord Jesus Christ, showing all the expression of his suffering, so exquisitely that, had we not witnessed it ourselves, we could hardly have believed the Indians capable of such art. In my opinion, neither the famed Apelles of old, nor the great masters of our time—like Berruguete and Michael Angelo, or even the modern artist of Burgos, called a real Apelles—could have matched the Indian masters Andreas de Aquino, Juan de la Cruz, and Crespello, with their work in emeralds. The sons of high-ranking chiefs now learn our grammar, and the most reverend archbishop of Mexico makes sure this instruction is continued. A number of these young men can read and write, and even compose books of choral songs. Many are also employed weaving silks, satins, and taffetas. They produce all varieties of woolen goods and mantles; there are clothiers, wool-combers, fullers, hat-makers, and soap-makers equaling those from Segovia and Cuenca. They haven't yet learned glassblowing or the apothecary's trade, but they are so skilled that I am sure they will learn them soon; among them are surgeons and herbalists. They are quite clever at juggling, performing puppet shows, and playing the guitar. They had some knowledge of agriculture before we arrived, but now they also breed every kind of livestock. They plough with oxen, sow maize, bake biscuits, and have planted Spanish fruit trees everywhere, making significant profit already. Since peach trees are not very wholesome, and plantain trees cast too much shade, they keep grafting and replacing them with quince, apple, and pear trees, which they consider more valuable.

We have also introduced proper police and justice. Every township elects its own alcaldes, regidors, accountants, alguacils, and other officials yearly; they have a courthouse where these authorities hear cases twice a week and rule on debt or minor offenses. Criminal and serious cases are always referred to the governor or royal court of audience, as required. I am told by reliable sources that when the councils of Tlascala, Tezcuco, Cholula, Huexotzinco, or other great towns meet, the mace-bearers precede the officials with golden staffs, just like those carried before a viceroy; and that these Indian judges are as proper in their rulings and as dignified in appearance as Spanish judges, and that they study and value our laws keenly. All the caziques keep excellent households, have horses with beautiful saddles and tack, and when they travel, they are followed by numerous pages. In some places, there are tilts, tournaments, and bullfights, especially on Corpus Christi, the feast of St. John, St. James, and the Virgin Mary in August. Many Indians now even fight bulls, fierce as these animals are. Some of the best horsemen are found among them, especially in Chiapa de los Indios. Many caziques breed their own horses and mules, which they use to carry wares for sale in markets, earning a livelihood as carriers throughout the land, just as in Spain. In short, they are very skilled in crafts—even down to making tapestries. I must close here and will describe additional benefits the Indians gained in the following chapter.

## CHAPTER CCX. {.chapter}
*On other benefits resulting from our glorious conquests.*

Having shown the many advantages the Indians gained from our conquests, I will now discuss the gold, silver, precious stones, and other valuables such as cochineal, wool, sarsaparilla, and cowhides that are exported to Spain each year; also, the revenues from the royal fifths, and the valuable gifts we sent to His Majesty during the conquest (not counting what merchants and travelers export on their own). Truly, since King Solomon built the temple at Jerusalem from the gold and silver of the islands of Tarshish, Ophir, and Saba, no histories mention as much gold, silver, and other riches as what continue to be shipped from this land to Spain. Many thousands of pounds of gold and silver have also been sent from Peru, but when we conquered New Spain, Peru was not even known, nor discovered for another ten years. We sent immense gifts to His Majesty from the very start, which is one reason I place New Spain at the forefront. For, as we all know, in Peru the captains, governors, and soldiers were constantly engaged in civil wars, costing many Spanish lives. Here in New Spain, on the contrary, we were never for a moment forgetful of our duty and profound respect for our emperor and master; nor will our loyalty ever be questioned, and we are always ready to serve His Majesty with our property and our lives whenever called.

Let the reader consider just for a moment how many towns and villages the Spanish have already founded in these lands. They are so numerous that I cannot list them. Seven bishoprics have been established in New Spain. The renowned city of Mexico is the seat of an archbishop, and there are three royal courts of audience. The reader would be amazed at the number of cathedrals, and the monasteries belonging to the Brothers of Charity and the Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustinian friars; at the well-endowed hospitals, and at the church of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Tepeaquilla (where Sandoval was stationed during the siege of Mexico). The variety and number of holy miracles that have occurred, and continue daily, in this land is astonishing, and we cannot be thankful enough to God and the Blessed Virgin, who gave us the power to conquer this land, now so thoroughly Christian. There is a university in Mexico where grammar, rhetoric, logic, philosophy, theology, and other sciences and arts are taught. In this city, books are printed in both Latin and Spanish, and licentiates and doctors graduate here.

I could mention many other important matters, such as the numerous silver mines already being worked in New Spain, and the new mines discovered every day, from which Spain draws so much wealth; but I have provided enough to show that our heroic deeds have never been surpassed, and that no others ever conquered as many kingdoms for their emperor as we, the true Conquistadors. And though many brave men were among us, I was not the least, and now I am the oldest living survivor. I repeat it: I—I—I am the oldest, and have always served His Majesty as a loyal soldier. And here I must say something in dialogue: When the illustrious Fame spread news of our glorious feats and services to God, our emperor, and all of Christendom throughout the world, she cried out that we were more deserving of high positions than others who had never served His Majesty here or elsewhere. She asked: Where are your palaces, castles, and coats of arms to bear witness to your deeds for posterity, just as the coats of arms of so many noble families testify for their ancestors—but who did nothing greater than you? Where, illustrious Fame asks, are the Conquistadors who escaped from all those battles, where are the tombs of those great heroes who fell, where are their coats of arms?

I can answer briefly: O, illustrious and excellent Fame, who are praised and sought after by all good people: the spite and envy of those who seek to diminish our deeds do not wish to see you, or even to hear you named, so you cannot praise us as we deserve. Know, O Fame, that of the five hundred and fifty warriors who sailed with Cortés from Cuba, only five are alive as I write in the year 1568—all the rest were either captured and sacrificed by the Indians, killed in battle, or died in bed! And as for their tombs, I say that the stomachs of the Indians were their graves, and whatever parts the Indians did not eat were thrown to the lions, tigers, and serpents kept by the Mexicans in strong cages. These cages are their monuments and their coats of arms; and those who died such cruel deaths, who rendered such service to God and the emperor, and who brought light to those once in darkness, should have had their names written in gold—but they received no reward! They gained no riches, although that is what all men desire!

Illustrious Fame then asked about those who came with Narváez and Garay, and I replied: Narváez’s troops, without the sailors, numbered 1,300 men—only 10 or 12 survive now, most having been killed in battle or sacrificed by the Indians. Garay’s forces—including three companies that landed at San Juan de Ulúa before his arrival—totaled, by my reckoning, about 1,200; most were captured by the Indians of Panuco and their flesh eaten in festal orgies. Of the fifteen men who survived Vasquez de Aillon’s expedition to Florida and joined us, not one is living now!

I repeat, illustrious Fame, that of Cortés’s veterans only five of us remain alive—elderly, sick, very poor, with grown sons and daughters, barely able to support our families in misery and toil! Now, Fame, since you have all you wanted to know about our palaces, coats of arms, and tombs, raise your fine, honest voice and proclaim our valor throughout the world, so that malice and envy no longer obscure our renown! Fame answered she would gladly do this, but added she was surprised that the highest honors had not been bestowed on us, especially since His Majesty had given such orders. Illustrious Fame also said that Cortés’s courageous deeds would always be considered invaluable and compared to those of the most famous generals; but historians like Gomara, Dr. Illescas and others, give all the credit to Cortés alone, and never praise any of us by name. She was pleased, though, that I have written a truthful account of the conquest, free from exaggeration or flattery—not like Gomara's focus on a single officer. Fame promised, in her goodness, to tell the world; and said that wherever my book was published, people would recognize its impartiality and simple truth.

A doctor who serves on the royal court of audience once asked why Cortés, in his dispatches or personal meetings with the king, never tried to secure reward for us, his true Conquistadors, even though he owed his appointment as governor to our help. I replied—and still say—that when Cortés was made governor, he secured the richest grants for himself and thought he would remain master of New Spain for life, and could distribute rewards as he liked. He saw no need to seek anything for us, thinking it would always be in his power. But after His Majesty gave him a marquisate and refused to reappoint him governor, the opportunity to provide for us was lost. Certainly, it was not the king’s fault we were never rewarded; for when he heard from several gentlemen of Mexico that Cortés had taken the best towns and districts for himself and given others to friends who had just arrived from Spain, His Majesty ordered that Cortés’s companions in arms should also receive fine rewards. Shortly after, the king left for Flanders, and likely lost track of the matter. If, right after the conquest, Cortés had divided the land into five equal parts—one of the best and richest to the Crown, one and a half for churches, convents, and knights who had served in Italy, against the Moors or Turks, and the remaining two and a half shares among the Conquistadors in perpetuity—it would have pleased His Majesty, especially as the conquest cost the Crown nothing.

Furthermore, at first, we did not know where to take our complaints or petitions, so we placed all our trust in Cortés as our general. Only after we saw Montejo, by going directly to the king, made governor and chief judge of Yucatan, among other honors—and Ordas, the same for himself, and Alvarado became governor and chief judge of Guatemala and Chiapa, and was given great lands—and finally Cortés became a marquis and captain-general of New Spain and the South Sea—only after this did we, the many Conquistadors, send agents to Spain to obtain perpetual grants for us as they became available. Our claims were judged fair, and His Majesty instructed the royal auditors sent to Mexico to treat the Indians of New Spain as if not yet granted out, to remove those whom Cortés had overduly rewarded, and to distribute the best among the veteran conquerors, leaving the rest for the Crown’s patronage. But nothing came of it, since those entrusted by the king either died early or opposed such distributions—since they knew it would soon end their own power. Still, I must say the auditors led by Nuño de Guzmán always remembered the Conquistadors first when any post became vacant, though their treatment of the Indians was harsh. However, these auditors were soon removed because of disputes with Cortés and abuses over the branding of slaves.

In the next chapter I will give further information about the issue of distributing Indians in perpetuity.

## CHAPTER CCXI. {.chapter}
*The deliberations held at Valladolid in 1550, in the royal council of the Indies, concerning the perpetual distribution of Indians.*

In 1550, the licentiate De la Gasca arrived from Peru at the court, which was then held at Valladolid. He was accompanied by a Dominican friar named Father Martin, who was regent of his order, and whom His Majesty soon afterward appointed to the bishopric of las Charcas. At the same time, the bishop of Chiapa, Don Bartolomé de las Casas; the bishop of Mechoacan, Don Vasco de Quiroga; and other gentlemen appeared at court as representatives of New Spain and Peru, along with some hidalgos against whom various accusations had been made. I too was summoned to this meeting, as the oldest of the Conquistadores. The reason for convening this council was that De la Gasca and those who accompanied him from Peru had brought with them a large amount of gold, partly their own and partly belonging to the crown. This gold was sent to Augsburg, in Germany, where His Majesty was staying with our current most fortunate king, Don Philip, his beloved son, to whom God grant a long life. Several cavaliers traveled with this gold, intending both to present themselves to His Majesty as deputies from the Spanish settlers in Peru and to petition him to grant us commendaries in perpetuity, as a reward for the services we had rendered to the crown. A similar petition had previously been submitted to His Majesty by Gonzalo Lopez, Alonso de Villanueva, and other cavaliers deliberately deputed from New Spain.

Shortly after De la Gasca’s arrival in Spain, the see of Palencia became vacant, and it was said that the emperor had given it to De la Gasca as a reward for restoring peace to Peru and for reclaiming the gold and silver that had been stolen by the Contreras.

Regarding the petition for distributing commendaries in perpetuity, His Majesty appointed a commission to investigate its merit and determine the best possible method of carrying it out. The following gentlemen were appointed: the marquis of Mondejar as president of the council of the Indies; the licentiates Gutierre Velasquez and Tello de Sandoval; Dr. Hernan Perez de la Fuente; the licentiates Gregorio, Lopez, and Briviesca; and Dr. Riberadeneyra, auditors of the royal council of the Indies. In addition, several others from His Majesty’s privy council participated.

This distinguished group of prelates and gentlemen convened at the residence of Pedro Gonzalez de Leon, where the council of the Indies met, and began deliberating on the matter of the perpetual distribution of commendaries in New Spain, Peru, and, if I am not mistaken, also in New Granada and Bobotan. The arguments made in favor of this policy were just and Christian. It was said, among other things, that Indians distributed in perpetuity would receive better treatment, would be thoroughly instructed in Christian doctrine, would be cared for during illness as children are, and their lives would become more comfortable. It would also encourage holders of commendaries to engage more in agriculture and cattle breeding. Endless lawsuits over Indian possession would cease; inspectors would no longer be required in the townships; and soldiers would live in peace and friendship, since presidents and governors could no longer distribute vacant commendaries among their relatives for political gain, as too often happened. Furthermore, if perpetual distribution were enacted and commendaries given only to men who had served the crown, His Majesty’s intentions would be achieved, and it would effectively dispossess the group of vagabonds in Peru of lands they had wrongfully seized, preventing them from stirring up further dissent.

After this esteemed council had fully discussed these points, the deputies and we other cavaliers were asked to give our opinions, and the majority voted in favor of perpetual distribution.

Among those opposed, the bishop of Chiapa was the most prominent, supported by his colleague Brother Rodrigo of the Dominican order; by the new bishop of Palencia, De la Gasca; the marquis de Mondejar; and by two auditors of the royal council of the Indies. These prelates, dissenting from all the previously mentioned cavaliers (except for the marquis de Mondejar, who refrained from supporting either side, listening only to the arguments), declared that Indians should not be distributed in perpetuity, and that many should be deprived of the Indians from whom they currently drew considerable income—even if those individuals had originally deserved punishment, not reward. This was especially true, they said, in Peru, where peace would be maintained if these views prevailed; for it was feared that the troops there would rise in open revolt if they found that no further distribution of Indians would be permitted.

To this, the bishop of Mechoacan, who sided with us, responded by asking licentiate De la Gasca why, instead of punishing all the known thieves and vagabonds, he had actually rewarded them with additional Indians.

To this, the licentiate replied with a smile: “Indeed, gentlemen, I considered it no small matter to maintain peace there, and that I escaped with my life after having deprived so many people of their possessions and punished them as the law required.”

After much more discussion on both sides, we and others present proposed that perpetual distribution should at least take effect in New Spain, but only for the true Conquistadores who had sailed from Cuba with Cortes, and those from Narvaez’s and Garay’s troops still living. Of the Conquistadores, we added, few remained, as most had lost their lives in battle in service to their monarch. Our services to the crown fully merited this distinction; other troops could be rewarded differently.

As the commissioners could not agree, some prelates and royal auditors proposed that the matter be postponed until His Majesty returned to Spain, since such an important issue required the emperor’s presence. We, along with the bishop of Mechoacan and several cavaliers, argued that the majority regarding New Spain favored perpetual distribution and that our affairs should not be mixed with those of Peru; it was also obvious from His Majesty’s instructions in appointing the commission that he favored this measure. However, no matter how many arguments we made or how much we spoke about our important services to the crown, our efforts were in vain; the auditors of the royal council of the Indies, bishop Las Casas, and Brother Rodrigo stood firm in their opinion, adding that once His Majesty returned from Germany, the Conquistadores would be rewarded in such a way that they would not have cause for complaint in the future.

Word of how this matter ended soon reached New Spain, and the Conquistadores resolved to send procuradores on their behalf to His Majesty. By then, I had returned to Guatemala, when Andreas de Tapia, Pedro Moreno Medrano, and Juan Limpias Carvajal wrote to me about our memorial, in which I was listed as one of the oldest of the Conquistadores. I then communicated with the other Conquistadores in Guatemala, urging them to contribute what they could to cover the expenses of our procuradores. Yet we could not raise enough money, so it was decided that the citizens of Mexico should join us to collectively send the procuradores. This too came to nothing, and things remained so until our invincible king, Don Philip—may God grant him a long life—issued certain regulations in favor of the Conquistadores and their children, and also of the oldest settlers with families, as can be seen from the royal decrees issued.

## CHAPTER CCXII. {.chapter}
*Various comments made regarding my account, which the reader may find interesting.*

After I finished this history, two licentiates visited me and requested to read it, so that they could better acquaint themselves with the story of the conquest of Mexico and New Spain, and to judge for themselves how my account compared with those given by Francisco Lopez de Gomara and Dr. Illescas about the heroic deeds of the marquis del Valle Oaxaca. Since people like me, who are lacking in formal education, always learn something from learned men, I let them read it—on the condition that they neither add nor remove anything; everything I wrote was in accordance with the truth. After the licentiates had read through my entire work, one of them, who was a skilled rhetorician, expressed his astonishment at the sharpness of my memory, noting that I did not forget even a single detail from all that happened, from my very first voyage of discovery under Cordoba up to the present. As for my style, both said that it was plain, old Castilian, which was more appreciated at the time than the ornate prose historians often prefer, and that while my style was simple, it was made beautiful by the truth it conveyed. They did note, however, that I had written too openly about myself when describing the battles where I was present, saying that I should have left this sort of praise to others. I also, they suggested, should have cited other historians to support my statements, rather than simply writing: “This I did,” or “This happened to me,” because, as they put it, I was merely testifying for myself. To this, I replied as follows: “In certain dispatches Cortes sent to the emperor from Mexico in the year 1540, my name and the services I rendered the crown are mentioned, including how I had made two earlier voyages of discovery to New Spain.” In these dispatches, Cortes spoke as an eyewitness about my actions in the many battles we fought with the Mexicans, about the courage I showed, how often I was wounded in battle, and how I accompanied him on the expedition to Honduras. He included further praise, which would be tedious to list here. The esteemed viceroy, Antonio de Mendoza, wrote similarly to his majesty about the officers then serving in New Spain. His accounts matched Cortes’s perfectly; and finally, I myself in 1540 presented the royal council of the Indies with proof confirming what both had said. But if, gentlemen licentiates, you are not satisfied with the viceroy and Cortes as witnesses, or with the evidence I have provided, I can name another witness with more authority than any other in the world: the emperor Charles V himself. In one of his royal letters, bearing his seal and addressed to the viceroys and presidents, he commands that I and my sons receive generous rewards for the many important services I rendered the crown. I have the original letters with these commands. If you want further witnesses, look at New Spain itself, three times the size of old Spain; count the towns and settlements established by Spaniards, and sum up the wealth continually flowing from this part of the New World to Spain. Another reason I wrote this true account is because historians Illescas and Gomara never mentioned us in their praise, giving all glory for the conquests to Cortes alone. If they had been honest, they would not have ignored us, the Conquistadors; a portion of Cortes’s heroic deeds rightly belongs to me as well, for in all his battles I fought among the first. I was present at many other engagements in the provinces under his officers, as you can see in this account. I also claim a share of the inscription Cortes had placed on the silver culverin we called the phoenix, which he sent as a present to his majesty from Mexico. The inscription read:

This bird was born without its equal, 
As a servant I have not my second, 
And you have not your equal in this world.

And when Cortes, on his first return to Spain, spoke to his majesty about the brave officers and soldiers who served under him in the Mexican wars, I was included in this number. Cortes also took frequent opportunities to praise us to his majesty during the unfortunate Algiers expedition, and I too was due a part of that praise, as I participated in the conquest.

This was my response to the two licentiates. As for the criticism that I praised myself too much, and that such praise sounds better coming from others, I asked them to consider this: there are certainly virtues and noble qualities that we ought never to praise in ourselves, but leave to our neighbors. But how can a neighbor praise what he did not witness on the battlefield? Should sparrows be the ones to speak of it, flying overhead, or the clouds drifting by? Who can speak better about it than we, the officers and soldiers who fought those battles? Your criticism, gentlemen, would be justified if in my account you had found that I withheld praise from my fellow officers and soldiers and claimed all the honor for myself. But I have not even praised myself as much as I might justifiably have done; I write, in part, so my name will not be forgotten. I am tempted to make a comparison, though it is between a great man and a humble soldier like myself: if historians record that the general and emperor Julius Caesar fought fifty-three battles, I may say that I fought in more battles than Julius Caesar, as you can read here. Historians claim Caesar was ever-valiant, always ready for battle, and recorded his deeds himself, because he would not trust others with his fame. So it should not surprise anyone if I mention myself in recounting the battles where I was present, so that future generations might say: this Bernal Diaz del Castillo wrote so his children and descendants might share in the glory of his deeds, just as the renown of old heroes has been passed down in noble family lines.

I will not dwell further on this subject; for what I have already said may not please those with malice and envy, who will think I have praised myself too much. What I have written about myself has, so to speak, happened only recently, not centuries ago like the Roman exploits. There are still enough Conquistadors alive to confirm what I have told. If there were any falsehoods or unclear statements, they would not let them pass unnoticed. Still, such is the world: malice always finds fault with the truth. Now I will list, in order, all the battles I was present at from the first discovery of New Spain to the final pacification of the entire country, so the reader may have a concise summary. There were, however, many engagements I missed, either from wounds, exhaustion, or because the provinces were so many and we had to split into different groups.

The first was the tough conflict at Punta de Cotoche, during my earliest voyage of discovery with Cordoba. Next came the fierce battle at Champoton, where we lost half our men; I was badly wounded, and our captain suffered two grave wounds, from which he died.

Upon returning to Cuba, we landed on the coast of Florida for water and fought another sharp engagement, in which I was wounded and one of our men was captured alive by the Indians.

In the Grijalva expedition, we again fought at Champoton, on the same ground; ten of our men were killed, and Grijalva himself wounded.

In the third expedition under Cortes, I was present at the following:

The two battles on the Tabasco, later named the river Grijalva.

The battle of Tzinpantzinco.

Shortly after, the three battles against the Tlaxcalans.

The conspiracy and punishment of the Cholula people.

Entry into Mexico and the capture of Motecuzoma. While not exactly a battle, it was a bold act to seize such a powerful chief.

The great victory over Narvaez, whose troops numbered nearly 1,400; we were only 226.

Returning to Mexico to relieve Alvarado, we were attacked by all of Mexico’s armed forces, fighting nonstop for eight days and nights. I count only six battles for myself during this time. We lost 860 men.

The battle of Otumba, and then during our expedition to Tepeaca.

The campaign against Tezcuco, where in two battles I was badly wounded in the throat by a lance.

Two battles against the Mexicans on our way to help some towns in Tezcuco province; these were over maize fields.

The second Mexican campaign and our fighting in the wild mountains of the Marquis. We lost eight men and were all in dire danger.

The battle of Cuernavaca.

The three battles of Xochimilco, where again we faced great danger and lost four men.

The siege of Mexico lasted ninety-three days—there was fighting almost nonstop, day and night. I can certainly say I fought in eighty hard-fought engagements and skirmishes.

Expeditions to Guacasualco, Chiapa, and Zapoteca, with three battles. I was also present for the capture of Chiapa.

The two fights near Chamula and Quitlan.

Two more skirmishes near Teapa and Cimatan, where two companions were killed and I was severely wounded in the throat.

I almost forgot to mention that during our disastrous retreat from Mexico, we were attacked continuously for nine days and fought four serious battles.

The Honduras and Higueras expedition, which lasted two years and three months before we returned to Mexico. At the township of Culacotu, we fought a severe battle, and I lost my horse, which cost me 600 pesos.

When I returned to Mexico, I helped suppress the insurrection of the Zatopecs and Minges.

I do not mention many other minor engagements, lest this become endless, nor the many dangers I faced. I must add that I was among the first before Mexico when the siege began—Cortes himself arrived five days later. I was also one of those who cut the aqueduct at Chapultepec, depriving the Mexicans of fresh water.

If we tally all of this, it turns out I was present at at least 119 battles and skirmishes—not that I want to boast, but it is simply the truth. My history is not a collection of old tales or accounts of things done long ago among the Romans, nor is it poetry, but a faithful account of the remarkable services we rendered to the Almighty, to our emperor, and to all of Christianity.

Praise and thanks be to the Lord Jesus Christ, who has preserved me through so many dangers, so that I can now write all this so clearly! And I can, indeed, claim that I have been in as many battles as historians record for the emperor Henry the Fourth.

## CHAPTER CCXIII. {.chapter}
*About the planets and signs in the heavens that foretold our arrival in New Spain; how the Mexicans interpreted these; and other matters.*

The Mexicans recount that, shortly before our arrival in New Spain, a circular figure appeared in the sky, resembling a carriage wheel, with colors blending green and red. Soon after, another appeared of similar form, which moved toward the sunrise and joined the first. Motecusuma, who was then Emperor of Mexico, summoned his priests and soothsayers, asking them to observe and explain these remarkable signs, which had never before been seen. The priests, consulting their god Huitzilopochtli, answered that these signs foretold terrible wars and dreadful pestilence, and that human sacrifices were required.

Shortly after these signs were seen in the sky, we arrived in New Spain. Ten months later, Narvaez arrived, bringing with him a black man suffering from smallpox. From him, the disease spread to the people of Sempoalla and, like a true pestilence, throughout all of New Spain.

Later, when we fought the fierce battles during the Night of Sorrows and lost 550 men, who were either killed as we retreated or taken prisoner and sacrificed to the Mexican idols, the priests' interpretations of those signs were considered perfectly accurate. None of us saw these omens ourselves, but I have recounted this as it was told by the Mexicans, for it is recorded in their hieroglyphic writings, which we always found to be accurate.

The following occurrence I saw with my own eyes, and anyone could have as well if they had only looked up. In the year 1527, a sign appeared in the heavens shaped like a long sword, apparently between the province of Panuco and the town of Tezcuco, and it remained in the sky, unchanged, for twenty days. The Mexicans and their priests declared this was a sign of pestilence, and indeed, a few days later, the measles and another eruptive disease resembling leprosy broke out, accompanied by a very unpleasant odor, which killed many people, though it was not as deadly as the smallpox.

In 1528, a very heavy rain fell in Guacasualco, with large clods of earth. But this event was unlike anything previously seen of its kind, for as soon as the clods landed, they turned into countless frogs, each a bit larger than a bluebottle fly. The ground was soon covered with these creatures, which hopped in every direction, trying to reach the river, which was nearby. Since there were so many and the sun was hot, countless frogs died before reaching water. Although birds of prey ate many, large numbers remained, quickly rotting and spreading a terrible stench.

I have also been assured by trustworthy people that similar showers of frogs fell at Sempoalla, near the sugar mills owned by accountant Albornoz.

I would not have mentioned this rain of frogs if it were not for its rarity—a thing most people never see; and besides, famous men have said that a writer should record only truly extraordinary events. I was also assured by a distinguished gentleman who lives near this town, Juan de Guzman, that he was once caught in such a shower on a journey through Yucatan. He told me that many small frogs stuck cold to his and his companions' cloaks, and they had to shake them off.

Around that same time, Guzman experienced this, it also rained frogs in Guatemala, as my fellow townsman Cosmo Roman attested. However, the most terrible disaster happened in Guatemala in September 1541. There, a violent hurricane struck, accompanied by torrents of rain that lasted three straight days, and so much water fell that the crater of the volcano about four miles from the town burst open. The resulting flood rolled down the mountain with such force that huge stones and trees were carried along. Anyone who didn’t witness it would hardly believe it, for boulders were moved by the current which two oxen could not budge, and these immense stones still remain as a reminder of that fearful storm. Every tree was torn up by the roots and swept down the mountain by the force of the torrent. The water looked as if it were mixed with chalk, and the hurricane whipped it up into foaming waves. The sound of the wind and water was so loud that people could not hear each other; parents were unable to help their children.

This terrible storm began at ten o’clock on Sunday night, September 11th, and the full force of water, stones, and trees swept over half of the town of Guatemala, destroying even the strongest buildings in its path. A great number of men, women, and children perished in moments, losing everything they owned. Some houses that survived the torrent were filled to the top windows with mud, rocks, and trees. During the storm, Doña Beatriz de la Cueva, wife of Pedro de Alvarado, died with several other ladies who fled to the chapel, praying for protection from the disaster. The mud and water burst into the chapel with such violence that it collapsed, and only three women escaped, one of whom was Alvarado’s daughter; I have forgotten the names of the other two. Alvarado's daughter, Leonora, was rescued from among the trees and rocks, and is now married to the distinguished Don Francisco de la Cueva, by whom she has several fine sons and daughters.

Many people claimed that, during the storm, they heard terrifying howling, yelling, and whistling, saying that evil spirits accompanied the great stones as they rolled along; for it seemed impossible for water alone to move such massive stones and trees. People even said they saw a one-horned cow, and two monstrous men resembling negroes, with horrific faces, shouting loudly: “*Go on! Go on! For all must be destroyed!*” When the townsfolk looked from their doors or windows to watch the flood, they were so terrified that they ran from house to house, only to be swept away by the current or sucked down by the mud and carried toward the nearby river. The Indians living farther downstream, in the path of the flood of water, mud, stones, and trees, suffered even more, for all were drowned. May God have mercy on their souls!

Earlier, I mentioned that this disaster was believed to be punishment for a blasphemous remark attributed to Alvarado’s grief-stricken widow upon hearing of his death. However, since living in Guatemala, I have often been assured that this lady never said any such sinful words, but that she merely said, “She wished she had perished with her husband.”

I should also note that the stones washed down by the flood are so immense that any stranger visiting Guatemala is always shown them, and is amazed at the sight.

After this disaster, the survivors burned as many bodies as they could find, but dared not return to the town. Most people moved to country estates or built huts in the fields. Eventually, they decided to build the current town, which stands where corn once grew. But I cannot speak highly of the chosen site. It would have been far better if they had chosen Petapa or the valley of Chimaltenango, both better suited for trade. Each time the river floods, the town is endangered, while earthquakes are also frequent.

Following this destructive storm, the late, devout bishop and several other gentlemen established an annual solemn procession for September 11th. This procession, including the clergy and all townspeople, started at the main church, chanting hymns as they walked to the site of the old town, then entered the church, decorated with fresh branches and drapery for the occasion. A funeral mass was held for those who died in the disaster. Afterward, funeral decorations were placed on the graves of the prominent, with wax torches burning, and offerings of bread, meat, and other items appropriate to each person were presented. After mass, a sermon was given. The late bishop not only personally joined the procession but also left funds to ensure the mass for the dead would continue each year on this anniversary. After the ceremonies, the procession participants celebrated in the nearby gardens and fields, enjoying the food they brought, much as is done in Spain for similar events.

What I have written here about the flood I took from the records of the late bishop, who carefully documented every noteworthy natural phenomenon he witnessed in the area; I have also heard all of this confirmed by eyewitnesses. The procession I described, however, is no longer held, as, according to the clergy and dignitaries of Guatemala's church, the fund left by the late bishop is no longer sufficient to cover the expenses.