conquered troops to pass before him, and swear allegiance to the king, and fealty to him as captain-general and justicia mayor. This was done by nearly all, some humbling themselves and kissing his hand, while the late hostile leaders and old acquaintances were recognized with friendly greetings and embraces.2
Meanwhile Olid and Ordaz, each with a corps, set out on the captured horses to summon stragglers and seek the forty troopers in the field. Duero and other friends of Cortés being among them, little persuasion was needed to win the party over, and shortly after dawn the whole cavalcade came in to the sound of fife and drum, shouting vivas for Cortés.3 High above this noise were heard from a window the voices of two women, named Ordaz, filling the air with their loud philippics. “Villainous Dominicanos!” they cried to the soldiers of their own party, “the distaff would better suit you than the sword. A good account have you given of yourselves! Unfortunate women we to have come to the wars with such men!” Truly
might Narvaez exclaim with Xerxes, as he beheld his fair ally, Queen Artemisia, outwit her Athenian pursuers, “My men fight like women, and my women like men.” The Ordaz women, however, fought only with their tongues, and that after the issue of battle. And thus relieved they immediately descended and did homage to the victor. The general did all he could to check this excess of zeal, which he feared might engender ill feeling, and he even seized some of the noisiest enthusiasts, although they were afterward rewarded.
The cacique of Cempoala, who had been slightly wounded during the battle, appeared like the rest to offer fealty to the victor by crowning him with flowers. Cortés received his demonstrations as if nothing had taken place to mar their intercourse, and took up his abode with Catalina, whose hand he had accepted during his previous occupation of the place. The chiefs vied with one another to obliterate their unfortunate mistake