The unpleasant aspect of affairs, so apparent during the last days of the march, had ruffled the temper of Cortés, and his treatment of Alvarado was not altogether cordial. Still, as he had ever been a close friend, and as he was an invaluable officer, brave and influential, he deemed it prudent to go no further than to express a curt disapproval of his rashness.18
Indeed, an inquiry into the causes and results of the massacre could criminate Alvarado no further than the Cholula affair did himself. The captain had acted in full accord with his party, and whatever blame might attach must be shared by all. Dissension would never answer, and so the matter was dropped.
But the ill-temper which the general dared not wreak on his own men found a ready object in Montezuma. The conduct of Cortés in this respect was most ungenerous. It shows the several sides of humanity: how odious in some respects are those who appear to the best advantage in other respects. This poor king had a superstitious sympathy, a maudlin affection for the captain, who, considering his own infamous conduct toward him, might at least have saved the captive unnecessary mental suffering.
As Cortés entered the fort Montezuma stepped out of his apartment to welcome him. The cavalier passed by the king in lofty disdain, ignoring his presence. Cut to the quick, the monarch shrank back, apparently more stunned by this treatment than by the late terrible slaughter of his subjects.19
He retired deeply chagrined to pour his sorrow into Olmedo’s ear. “What can I do?” he cried; “he loves gold and fame, and I will give him a life-size equestrian statue of himself in gold if he will but be kind to me.”
With the arrival of the main forces supplies were stopped, as if in protest, and Cortés became only the more irritated. Accordingly, when two chiefs appeared on behalf of the emperor to ask for an interview they were repulsed with the insulting epithet of ‘dogs!’