renowned only for the immense serpent idols in its temple, from which the Spaniards called it El Pueblo de los Sierpes. Thence to Azcapuzalco, the former proud seat of the Tepanec kings.3
No resistance being offered at any of these towns, they were spared the brand, whereat the disappointed sackers felt aggrieved. As the army neared Tlacopan a large opposing body appeared, which was reinforced by warriors from the towns thereabout and from Mexico. The ground being level, the cavalry easily broke through their lines, and the infantry completed the rout, pursuing them into the city. After clearing the greater number of streets from foes, camp was formed in the palace.
There was hardly any evidence of the late ravages to which Mexico and its approaches had been exposed during Spanish occupation, and Cortés saw that it would be no easy matter to besiege such a stronghold, or series of strongholds, as the massive buildings may be termed, held as they were by so obstinate a people as the Aztecs, with whom any trifling or imaginary success seemed to efface the effect of continual defeats.
The prospect was not encouraging, and as he looked
at the causeway full of those pitfalls which had defeated his high purposes, gloomy thoughts filled his breast. “Why so sad, your worship?” broke in a cavalier.4 “Yours was not the fault, and never will you be compared with heartless Nero.” “I am not thinking of that sorrow alone,” said Cortés, “but of the struggles yet required to achieve the mastery. Still with God’s approval we will soon attempt it.”5
In the morning hostile forces again appeared, only to be driven back, whereupon the allies dispersed to sack and fire, with the determination to avenge the attack made upon them during the flight from Mexico. “And in this they used such diligence,” writes Cortés, “that even our quarters were endangered.” The general was nothing loath to see the flames, for it suited his plans not only to chastise the people, but to