Cortés had by this time been absent from Mexico city nearly a month. One of the two dangers that threatened to destroy him had passed away. The other, the gods’ mandate that he must leave the country or take the consequences, remained. But the victory over Narváez had greatly improved his situation. According to Bernal, he could now dispose of a combined total of 1,300 men-at-arms, 96 horses, eighty musketeers, as many crossbowmen, and 20 or more pieces of cannon. If he had accomplished so much with some 400 men, surely with such increased numbers he was strong enough to overcome the Mexican priests’ opposition. It had been a risk leaving Alvarado with only 80 men, but events had justified it. Convinced that all was well, he even planned before returning to the capital to send part of his troops up the coast to form a settlement and another contingent down it for a similar purpose.
Then suddenly the news arrived from the capital that the Mexicans had risen. The two Tlaxcalan messengers who brought it said that Alvarado was besieged, that fire had been set to his quarters, seven of his men killed and many others wounded, and that help was urgently needed. A letter from Alvarado himself followed to the same effect. Cortés, cancelling his plans for settlements on the coast, resolved to march at once with his whole army to the garrison’s relief. Before he started, four lords sent by Montezuma appeared. They explained what had happened. In the middle of May the great festival of Smoking Mirror was held. One of the rituals connected with it was a magical dance held in the courtyard of the temple opposite the Spanish quarters. The dancers were the Mexican nobility, many of whom were of Toltec descent. For the occasion they wore their richest mantles and jewellery. They carried no arms. Alvarado, said the four lords, though he had been consulted about the festival and had raised no objection, sallied out at the head of his armed followers and attacked the dancers, killing as many of them as he could. The city rushed to arms. Alvarado fled back to his quarters, pursued by a mob which tried to storm the place. Montezuma (who of course was inside the building) spoke to the assailants from the wall and managed to calm them. The attacks petered out, but the Mexicans confined the Spaniards, none of whom were allowed to set foot in the city. The envoys concluded by repeating that Alvarado, by his unprovoked attack on a religious occasion, was entirely to blame for the present situation. On hearing their complaint, Cortés, says Bernal, ‘was somewhat disgusted and told the messengers that he was going to Mexico and would put all to rights’. His disgust was understandable. Alvarado, always inclined to be rash, had by embittering the Mexicans at this delicate moment greatly increased the power of the opposition which had already demanded that the Spaniards should leave. We should think of these men, not as patriots in any modern sense, but as Smoking Mirror’s adherents. It was not that they had begun to doubt that Cortés was Quetzalcoatl. On the contrary, his mishandling of the images of the rival gods and his lieutenant’s massacre of the lords in a ritual dance made the identity yet more certain. Where they differed from Montezuma was in the belief that Smoking Mirror could win. Montezuma was convinced that he could not. The Spanish army left Cempoalan on June 10th and by forced marches reached Tlaxcala in a week, half the time taken to cover the distance on the first march inland. There Cortés learned that though Alvarado had not been attacked again, he remained invested and was short of food. A Tlaxcalan contingent joined the Spaniards and they hastened on. Instead of the Cholula road, the shorter route was taken across country to Tetzcuco, the lake city. On arrival, Cortés received a message from Montezuma, praying him not to be vexed and declaring that what had happened was not done by his wish or consent. Cortés sent a reply that he was not angry in any way, as Montezuma’s goodwill was well known to him.
There were disquieting signs, however, that the country had grown disaffected. For instance, none of the lords of Tetzcuco called to pay their respects. Cortés wondered whether, in spite of Montezuma’s conciliatory message, his re-entry into the city would be resisted. One of the Spaniards of the garrison rowed across the lake from Mexico to Tetzcuco and reported that his companions were still prevented from leaving their quarters, but were now being sold food. On the whole Cortés inclined to think that he would not be resisted. Elated by his victory over Narváez and the increased size of his army, he came to the conclusion that the Mexicans were afraid of him. But he had never entirely grasped how he stood in Mexico. The Mexicans had never been afraid of him in a physical sense. They had submitted to him for quite different reasons. When he marched on Narváez, he had been able to estimate his chances correctly. But now he was marching towards what was much more difficult to get into perspective.
The sloops had been destroyed during the disturbances. Though Mexico was visible fifteen miles away across the lake, there was no means of getting there except by using one of the three causeways. Their entrances were all at a distance from Tetzcuco, the least far being the one starting from Iztapalapan. But this causeway was about seven miles along, and Cortés, remembering how very helpless he had felt when crossing by it on his first entry, decided to use the Tacuba causeway, which was only two miles long. Tacuba was right on the opposite side of the lake. They reached it by marching round the north shore. On arrival they found the causeway open and unguarded. They crossed and entered the city. It was June 24th, about noon. No lords came to meet them. Indeed, few people were about. The houses on the main road to the central square seemed deserted. The silence was a little uncanny. However, they reached Lord Face of Water’s palace without incident. At their entry, says Bernal, ‘the great Montezuma came out to the courtyard to embrace and speak to Cortés, bid him welcome and congratulate him on his victory over Narváez. But Cortés, with the vanity of a conqueror, rebuffed him and Montezuma returned to his apartments with an air of dejection.’
Bernal had already noticed what a great and powerful lord Cortés was delighted to have become after defeating Narváez. Here he lets us see that the Captain-General’s conceit of himself had increased till it was less pleasant and more dangerous. Cortés had walked into a trap. Within five days the man to whom he owed his immunity hitherto was to die, and within a week two-thirds of his soldiers were to fall in battle, or perish on the sacrificial stones and be eaten.