Authors: Doris Davidson
‘The great army is coming,’ he managed to gasp at last. ‘I was finishing my work in the main field when I saw clouds of dust in the distance. I waited until I could see what was causing this - sometimes the llamas stampede if they are frightened by a rattlesnake or a puma - then I saw them. Many, many men are on their way with banners and flags. The god Quetzalcoatl must have sent them to destroy Montezuma’s kingdom.’
‘But what are we to do, Father?’ The boy asked as the man started to run again.
‘I do not know, my son, but we must go home at once.’
The grandmother was not so easily alarmed. ‘The army will not harm us if we do not put up a fight,’ she said when her son had breathlessly given her the news. ‘If Quetzalcoatl sent them, they will want only to capture Montezuma’s city. He must be warned.’
‘I will go,’ offered Monte. ‘I will take the mule and ride over the mountain. The great city lies at the foot of the other side, does it not?’ He knew that from his grandmother’s stories.
She spent no time in arguing, but cut some tortilla, laid out some fruit and a flask of goat’s milk on one of her shawls, tied them up and handed over the bundle. ‘Take this to eat. It is a long, long journey to Tenochtitlan.’
As he passed other mud huts like his own, Monte pointed back and shouted, ‘The army is coming! They have come to destroy the king’s city.’
It took some hours for the boy and the mule to clamber up the rocky mountain, and when they reached the top, Monte halted the sturdy little animal and stared down in surprise. He had always known that the city of Tenochtitlan was beautiful, but even from his grandmother’s descriptions of it he had never imagined anything as large as the panorama spread out in the valley below.
It was not until he was much nearer that he could see the white buildings and giant temples reflected in the waters of the lake - the fabulous Halls of Montezuma. As he tore his eyes away from the glorious sight and looked around him, he saw smoke rising from another mountain not very far off. The Mountain of Fire. He had heard his grandmother speak of it, and she had said its real name was Popocatepetl.
Gaining renewed strength, Monte urged the mule onwards. He could not bear the thought of the beautiful city being invaded by enemies. His father had told him that the Sacred Book foretold this, and that the invaders were to be led by a tall, white-skinned, black-bearded man, whose followers would unleash thunder and lightning on Tenochtitlan.
After another hour or so, he heard what sounded like the hooves of many mules, but coming much faster than mules could travel. Looking over his shoulder, he saw about fifteen men riding strange animals, larger than mules and much more impressive. This was no great army, so he relaxed and waited for the men to catch up with him.
As they passed, they shouted to him in words which he could not understand, and carried on down the path. He urged his sturdy steed forward again, but the beast was exhausted from the long hours they had been travelling, and could go at only a very slow pace.
Some time later, he again heard sounds behind him and turned round. This time, it was indeed an army, descending on Montezuma’s city, now only a few miles off. Dismounting, he led his mule to some nearby bushes; from this hiding place he watched while hundreds of men rode past. Leading them, on an animal like those which had passed before, was a tall man, white-skinned and black-bearded, just as the Sacred Book said. After him came men with crossbows, men with chained hounds and last of all came men with strange rods in their hands.
He watched while they entered a small village farther down the mountain, with mud houses like his own. Some of the Aztec men tried to stop the army from going on, but suddenly the men at the rear of the line took up their strange rods and made thunder and lightning spit past the local men, making them jump back in alarm. He waited until the army had moved on, and then rode into the village.
‘Who are they?’ he asked one of the wailing women, who had come out in curiosity.
‘He said his name is Hernando Cortez,’ she answered. ‘He has come to capture Montezuma’s wonderful city. He comes from a land called Spain, far across the ocean, and they have conquered the rest of Mexico - the Maya, the Toltecs and all the smaller tribes - and now he wants to claim Tenochtitlan and all of Montezuma’s gold and treasures for his own king. He called his men conquistadors, and they mean to capture the city with their crossbows and rifles. The rifles are what made the thunder and lightning. Fifteen men on horses - the strange animals are called horses - have gone on before. Cortez said there will be no bloodshed if our king gives up peacefully.’
It was too late now for Monte to warn the king, but he carried on down the mountain path, anxious to find out what was happening. When he neared the city, he saw that Montezuma himself had come to the gates, and was waiting at the end of the broad causeway which had been built across the lake as an entrance. His golden throne was carried by eight lords in silken robes, and his jewelled crown was also decorated with green plumes. Even the soles of his sandals - visible from the way he was sitting -looked to be made of pure gold.
The boy lay down behind a group of bushes to watch and to listen. Surely the great king would be able to stop this army from plundering the city?
When Cortez and the conquistadors came closer to him, Montezuma looked scared, but ordered his bearers to lower him to the ground so that he could speak to the strangers. Monte wished that he could hear better, so he crept as close as he dared. Cortez had dismounted from his horse and faced the king boldly.
‘If the god Quetzalcotl has sent you to destroy my city,’ Montezuma said, ‘I beg you to listen. I will give you all my gold and jewels and any other riches you want, if you will leave all the buildings I have worked so long to have erected.’
Monte’s eye was caught by a man in plain clothes who appeared then. The face was familiar but it was a moment or so before the boy recognised him to be the Wise One, who travelled amongst the villages on the mountain, and who was said to have visited many foreign lands. He went fearlessly up to the leader of the army and was translating what the king had said. Cortez listened carefully, then turned and spoke to two of his men, who stepped up to the king and took hold of his arms.
Monte held his breath. Were they going to kill Montezuma? But the king smiled, and they all went inside the city gates - the king and the two men holding him, Cortez and the Wise One.
The rest of the Spanish army were standing outside the walls, so Monte plucked up his courage and walked past them, into the city where the Aztecs were murmuring together. ‘They have taken our king a prisoner,’ said one man.
‘We must fight the enemy,’ said another. ‘They must not destroy our lovely city.’
One of the lords stepped forward now. ‘They will kill Montezuma. Without a king we will be lost, and they will kill us all.’
‘I will be your king.’ A tall, cruel-faced man pushed himself forward. ‘Montezuma is a coward and will put up no fight, but I will lead you to victory.’
Some of the other men cheered, but Monte heard one woman whisper to her husband, ‘He is wicked, that one. Many men will die before he, too, is killed.’
The husband nodded. ‘He could never be as good a king as Montezuma.’
Cortez, who had been talking with the king and trying to reach an agreement, suddenly brought him out to the city walls to tell his people what had been decided. Most of the Aztecs went down on their knees to show their king that they believed in him, but the self-appointed ruler issued orders to the slingers to let loose their ammunition on the invaders. With the first volley, Montezuma himself was struck on the head by a stone and fell to the ground.
An eerie silence fell now, then the slingers were again told to fire, and Cortez and his conquistadors turned and retreated. They joined the rest of their army and left Tenochtitlan.
Running up to the Wise One, Monte asked, ‘What will happen now? What are they going to do?’
The man shook his head sadly. ‘Hernando Cortez intends to gather a larger army and come back to destroy the city. Montezuma had said that they could have all his gold and treasures, and Cortez had promised that there would be no fighting, that they would leave the city as it is. Now this new king has ruined everything, and there will be much bloodshed. It will be the end of the Aztecs.’
‘Would you have liked our city to fall into the hands of the conquistadors?’ Monte asked.
‘They are not wicked men, although their religion is different from ours, my son. They worship only one god, a good god, who asks for no human sacrifices. He even sent his son, Jesus Christ, to earth to show the people how he loved them. Their religion is called Christianity.’
When he went home a few days later, Monte told his friend some of what had happened.
‘So Montezuma joined their Christianity?’ Marilia said, happily, ‘and all ended in peace?’
‘It did not end like that. The people of the city chose another king to lead them, a cruel man. Montezuma went out on to the walls to speak to them, and when they saw him they knew they still loved him, and went down on their knees before him. The other man was angry and ordered our slingers to let loose a volley of stones at Cortez and his men, and Montezuma was accidentally struck on the head. He died just a few hours afterwards.’
‘Then Cortez won the city for Spain?’ Marilia’s eyes had filled with tears of sorrow.
‘No, our people defended bravely and the Spaniards had to withdraw, but Cortez vowed that he would collect a larger army and come back to win all Mexico for his emperor - Charles the Fifth, of Spain.’ His face assumed a determined expression. ‘I hope that I will be old enough to fight when he comes back. I would not like to see Tenochtitlan fall into the hands of the Spaniards … and yet … their Christianity sounds better than Montezuma’s religion, and Cortez did not mean to fight.’
After briefly thinking this over, Marilia said, ‘Yes, with Montezuma gone, it would be better if Cortez and his men were to rule over us instead of this cruel new king.’
‘We must live in hope that the conquistadors do return.’
***
NOTE:
Hernando Cortez went on to gather a much bigger army, and built a huge fleet of ships to cross the lakes. He and his conquistadors destroyed the city of Tenochtitlan in November 1519, and it was in this place that Mexico City was built.
The Aztecs were a Mexican tribe ruled by Montezuma. They were good at building stone houses and making tools, but they had no wheel, nor any form of transport except boats and mules. They were dark-skinned and black-haired, and the men had no beards.
***
Word count 2878
This story was written in 1981 for a competition run for the Writers’ Conference, held once a year in Pitlochry. Most of us who attended were only would-be writers but enjoyed listening to REAL authors talking about their work. I was disqualified, because the story had to be written for reading to children, and the age had to be stipulated. I put the age as 10-12 and the judge maintained that children of that age did not want to be read to. I pointed out that I had been teaching this age group for some time, and they loved having stories read to them. I did not send it anywhere else, and it is only included here because it is different from anything I wrote later.
‘But Mam, a’ the ither loons’ve got bikes, an’ they mak’ a richt fool o’ me ‘cos I havena gotten ane.’
‘I’ve tell’t ye afore, Jeemsie. We jist canna afford to buy a bike for ye wi’ yer faither laid up like he is. There’s naethin’ comin’ in, an’ the little I’d laid past has to buy food for the six o’ us an’ mixters for yer Da. I’m hard put to manage as it is.’ Lizzie Wilson wished with all her heart that her eldest son would be reasonable. He should have more sense, him being ten years old. Why couldn’t he take no for an answer?
‘But I’ve been thinkin’, Mam. I’ve often seen auld bits o’ bikes lyin’ on the dumps, an’ if only I could get the right bits, I could mak’ ane for masel’.’
His mother sighed. It was bad enough trying to make ends meet since her Jeems had been taken ill again, without having Willie pestering her like this. He was more bother than the other three put together. ‘Weel, weel,’ she muttered at last, considering it easier than arguing any more. ‘Jist you cairry on an’ try to mak’ a bike, loon.’ At least it would keep him occupied for a while and give her some peace, though she doubted if he would ever produce a roadworthy vehicle.
Every day now, after school and after he’d had his supper, Lizzie could see him pottering about in the backyard with the things he’d found on the rubbish tips, a lantern illuminating his labours. He was utterly engrossed in his self-appointed task, having shooed his young brothers away when they showed an interest in what he was doing.’Ye should jist see Jeemsie,’ she told her husband one evening when she went to take away his supper tray. ‘He’s up till his elbows in grease a’ the time, an’ he leaves muck on a’ the doors. I dinna ken fit I’m gan to dae wi’ him, for he tak’s nae notice o’ me tellin’ him to wash his hands at the pump afore he comes inside.’
‘Ach, jist let him be, lass. Ye should be gled the bike’s keepin’ him oot o’ yer road.’
Jeems Wilson knew that their eldest son was Lizzie’s favourite, although she was forever complaining about him. If only this bronchitis would stop bothering him every winter - that’s what really upset his wife and made her take it out on the boy, but it seemed to get worse every year. He’d been off work for three weeks so far this time, with no sign of him being fit for a while yet, and he was worried that Geordie Milne, the farmer at Mains of Mucklefour, wouldn’t keep his job as first horseman open for him much longer.
It was just as well that there wasn’t so much to do at the farm, it being the middle of winter, but there were still certain jobs that had to be done. Sandy Fraser, the cattleman, had told him last week that it was taking them all their time to manage without him, and that old Doddie Morrison had offered to help out with the horses at nights.