avenged. At least forty Spaniards and a number of allies had been captured during the night, and at the obsequies, which were of the most imposing order, they added solemnity to the occasion by yielding their hearts’ blood; while those who, according to native tradition, turned back to hold the fort for three days before they swelled the throng of victims, were reserved for the coronation soon to follow.
The respite from close pursuit had enabled the fugitive army to join, in detached groups, the nucleus already gathered under Jamarillo in one of the squares of Tlacopan,4 the capital of the smallest tripartite state, half a league from Mexico. A sorry spectacle was this remainder of the brilliant army which had so lately entered Mexico as conquerors. A haggard, bleeding, ragged crowd, dreggy with mire and smeared with gore, many without weapons, and without a vestige of their baggage and war stores. When Cortés arrived with the last remnant the sun was rising, and fearing the danger of an attack in the narrow streets, such as had made the sallies in Mexico so disastrous, he hastened to conduct his men into the open field. The movement was made none too soon, for immediately
after the scouts gave warning of approaching hosts, magnified to a hundred thousand or more, speedily the war shrieks again broke on the ears of the startled troops. The Mexicans had sent word to Tlacopan and the neighboring towns to intercept the fugitives, and assistance coming with the dawn they joined in the attack.5
A Tlascaltec chief had recommended a northward course, round the lakes, as the least exposed to pursuit, and offered himself as guide.6 The march was accordingly directed north-westward through some maizefields, with Cortés leading. The enemy were upon them before the rear left the city, and several soldiers fell in the onslaught. A short distance before them rose the hill of Totoltepec, Bird Mountain,7 surmounted by a temple with several strong buildings,8