FullReads

At this critical juncture a happy chance changed the whole fortune of the day. Cortez, gazing with eagle eye around the field in search of some vision of hope, some promise of safety, saw at no great distance in the midst of the throng a splendidly dressed chief, who was borne in a rich litter and surrounded by a gayly attired body of young warriors. A head-dress of beautiful plumes, set in gold and gems, rose above him, and over this again was a short staff bearing a golden net, the standard of the Aztecs.

The instant Cortez beheld this person and his emblem his eye lighted with triumph. He knew him for the commander of the foe, and the golden net as its rallying standard. Turning to the cavaliers beside him, he pointed eagerly to the chief, exclaiming, “There is our mark! Follow me!” Then, shouting his war-cry, he spurred his steed into the thick of the foe. Sandoval, Alvarado, and others spurred furiously after him, while the enemy fell back before this sudden and fierce assault.

On swept the cavaliers, rending through the solid ranks, strewing their path with the dead and dying, bearing down all who opposed them. A few minutes of this furious onset carried them to the elevated spot on which were the Aztec chief and his body-guard. Thrusting and cutting with tiger-like strength and ferocity, Cortez rent a way through the group of young nobles and struck a furious blow at the Indian commander, piercing him with his lance and hurling him to the ground. A young cavalier beside him, Juan de Salamanca, sprang from his horse and despatched the fallen chief. Then he tore away the banner and handed it to Cortez.

All this was the work almost of a moment. Its effect was remarkable. The guard, overwhelmed by the sudden onset, fled in a panic, which was quickly communicated to their comrades. The tidings spread rapidly. The banner of the chief had disappeared. He had been slain. The blindness of panic suddenly infected the whole host, which broke and fled in wild terror and confusion. The Spaniards and Tlascalans were not slow in taking advantage of this new aspect of affairs. Forgetting their wounds and fatigue, they dashed in revengeful fury on the flying foe, cutting them down by hundreds as they fled. Not until they had amply repaid their losses on the bloody causeway did they return to gather up the booty which strewed the field. It was great, for, in accordance with Cortez’s instructions, they had struck especially at the chiefs, and many of these were richly ornamented with gold and jewels.

Thus ended the famous battle of Otumba, the most remarkable victory, in view of the great disparity of forces, ever won in the New World. Chance gave the Spaniards victory, but it was a chance made useful only by the genius of a great commander. The following day the fugitive army reached the soil of Tlascala and were safe among their friends. History has not a more heroic story to tell than that of their escape from the Aztec capital, nor a more striking one than that of their subsequent return and conquest.