Cortés at first leads his men on foot, and with the aid of a field-piece readily gains the first bridge and barricade, carrying all before him, while the auxiliaries swarm into the houses and drive slingers and archers from the roofs. The determination of the assaulting party seems to have disheartened the Mexicans, for the advance is quite rapid, so much so that the captain who has taken Cortés’ place at the head of his division soon reports that he is approaching the market and can hear the operations of Alvarado and Sandoval.
May he advance? This message reaches Cortés on a section of his causeway to the rear, where he has remained to gain a contested point, and to oppose assaults from the cross-streets. He replies that the captain must first secure his rear and flanks, and look particularly to the channels, of which there are three in that causeway. “They are filled,” was the answer, made without a thought as to its accuracy, for flushed with the success of the advance, soldiers and cavaliers alike cast prudence to the winds, and disregarding common ditches bend their eyes alone upon the goal.
Immediately after comes the doleful sound of the teponastli, and a shrill trumpet blast, the alarm signal of Paynalton, the mythic page of the war-god. Struck on the summit of Tlatelulco temple, the sounds float over the contestants, sending a chill into the heart of the Spaniards and allies as they rush onward filled with visions of success. To the Mexicans, on the other hand, it comes as a magic appeal from Huitzilopochtli, stirring their spirit with fresh energy: a resistless appeal to make a supreme effort for imperilled home, and faith, and liberty.21
Cortés also hears the warning, only too deeply impressed since that Sorrowful Night, and with anxious heart he hastens forward to see how matters stand. His anxiety is increased as the jubilant cries of his own men appear to change, while high above them rise the unmistakably triumphant shouts of the Aztecs.