Cortés handed over the body of Montezuma to the Mexicans for burial. ‘When they beheld him thus dead, we saw their tears and heard their cries of grief,’ says Bernal. But soon afterwards ‘they fell on us in greater force and fury, with loud yells and whistles and showers of missiles, shouting: “Now for certain you will pay for his death. In two days there will not be one of you left.”’
Having failed to secure a truce Cortés decided to try and fight his way out of the city. ‘We saw our forces diminishing,’ says Bernal, ‘and those of the Mexicans increasing. Many of our men were dead and all the rest wounded. The powder was giving out and so was the food and water. And the Great Montezuma was dead. In fact we were staring death in the face.’
A certain Botello, however, gave them hope. He was, says Bernal, ‘apparently an honest man and a Latin scholar, who had been in Rome. Some said he was a magician, some that he had a familiar spirit, others called him an astrologer.’ Cortés had consulted him on his horoscope and was told that though he would have a serious setback at this time, later he would become ‘a great and magnificent lord’. Botello now advised the Spaniards to leave on the night of June 30th, declaring that if they did so, his calculations showed that they would be lucky. If they delayed, not one of them would get out alive. His recommended date, which was the next day, was therefore fixed for the flight.
The best way of getting out of the city was by the Tacuba causeway as it was the shortest. There were eight bridges in its length of two miles, and all of them had been destroyed. But Cortés devised an answer to this by having a portable bridge built. They would carry this with them in their rush for the mainland and bridge the gaps in succession. The whole of June 29th, the day Montezuma died, and the following morning were spent in making the portable bridge; also in sorties to try and secure the approach to the causeway, and even in attempting to fill some of the gaps in it with rubble. It must not be forgotten that besides the Tlaxcalan contingent of soldiers the Spaniards had with them many servants, porters and labourers, who now came in very handy. The Tlaxcalans were useful as auxiliaries, but were not trained enough to be incorporated into the Spanish formations, which, small as they were, had a cohesion which greatly increased their strength. This cohesion had been created by discipline and improved by battle experience. The Spanish at this date were at the height of their reputation as soldiers. A body of their troops showed the mobile unity and intelligent co-operation of the legion or the phalanx in their best days. But the legion and the phalanx could only survive against a certain degree of odds, and the odds now looked too heavy for the Spaniards. Moreover, only Cortés’ original army was fully trained and first class; the new-comers lacked nerve and confidence.
It remained to settle about the treasure before they left. Though everyone had been allotted his share, only part had been drawn. The bulk remained for safety in a strong-room. It was now mostly in the form of ingots, though there was some gold jewellery which had not been melted down and other valuables like jades. Even after the heavy expense of buying over Narváez’s officers and men, the value of it is given as over 700,000 pieces of gold. On the late afternoon of the 30th, some hours before the time fixed for the flight, the whole was heaped up in the main hall. Cortés first separated the Emperor’s Fifth in gold ingots and entrusted it to two captains, who were given eight wounded horses and a party of eighty Tlaxcalans to transport it. He then addressed the troops. ‘I can do no more with the rest,’ said he. ‘It is all yours. Take what you think you can carry away.’
Death might be round the corner, but these men, who had come to Mexico to make a fortune and saw a fortune on the floor, forgot about death. Not caring whether to be loaded with gold was a safe way to go into a desperate battle, many of them, particularly the Narváez lot, for whom it was the first sight of treasure, stuffed their pockets, even packed their helmets. Bernal was more cautious: ‘I declare that I had no other desire than to save my life,’ he confides, and says he selected some jades which he secreted between his chest and his armour. ‘Later on, what I was able to sell them for helped me to get my wounds attended to and to buy me food.’ How much Cortés took for himself is unrecorded. No doubt before the heap was put out in the hall he had reserved as much as his own staff of servants and porters could manage.
When darkness fell they got ready to make their escape. The order was as follows: Sandoval and Ordás were to lead the van with a company of picked men. Cortés would command the centre and lend support where it was most needed. Alvarado took the place of most danger, the rearguard. The cannon, which had to be carried, and the Emperor’s Fifth, were to go in the centre, as were the prisoner lords, including Lord Maize Cobs. Some women were taken, the most important being Doña Marina, Doña Luisa, the daughter of the senior lord of Tlaxcala, who was Alvarado’s consort, and two of Montezuma’s daughters—not the same girls as those he mentioned on his death-bed. A son of his was also with the Spaniards.
A little before midnight the evacuation began. There was some moon, but as rain was falling, it was tolerably dark. They were not observed, it seems, for a short while, but by the time the van had reached the head of the causeway and the portable bridge was being shoved over the first gap, ‘the trumpets and whistles of the Mexicans began to sound’, and soon afterwards strong forces charged them. Canoes of armed men also rowed out and landed further down the causeway so as to cut them off.
Though they were certainly at a great disadvantage, being surrounded on all sides and not able to use their strongest weapon, the artillery, as it was being carried, they had this advantage that the Mexicans on account of the narrowness of the causeway could not bring their greatly superior forces to bear. They tried to deploy, by attacking from canoes on both flanks, but there also large numbers could not be effectively used. Nevertheless, only the greatest coolness and discipline could extricate a small force from such a position in face of charges relentlessly pushed by a fighting people of the calibre of the Mexicans and as well armed with missile weapons.
What happened is described at length by Bernal and more shortly by Cortés in his letter to the Emperor. The van and part of the centre, with Cortés among them, had crossed the portable bridge when it was destroyed by the Mexicans. This stroke cut the Spanish army in half. The hinder part, together with most of the Emperor’s Fifth, the prisoner lords, all the cannon and some of the women, was left on the Mexico side of the gap. Cortés had to take an immediate decision—whether to stay and try to extricate those cut off or lead the men with him down the causeway before it was too late. If he had stayed, there is little doubt, I think, that he and the entire army would have perished. Instead, with his mailed cavalry in front like a battering-ram, he forced a passage through, swimming his men and horses over the seven other gaps or, if narrow or shallow enough, jumping or wading them. Bernal, who was with him, is here emphatic: ‘I assert that if we had waited, not one of us would have been left alive.’ On getting some five hundred of his men safely to Tacuba, Cortés turned back with a few horsemen and foot soldiers to see if he could rescue those left on the far side of the first bridge. After going a certain distance, he met Alvarado walking towards him. He was badly wounded and accompanied by a handful of men. He informed Cortés that everyone else had either been killed or captured. All the guns had been taken and the bulk of the treasure. The captive lords had been killed in the mêlée, including Lord Maize Cobs. De León also and many other notable gentlemen were dead. He himself had got across the fatal gap by clambering over the dead bodies, horses and boxes which filled it. On hearing this terrible news, Cortés, perceiving it was useless to go on returned with Alvarado and his remnant to Tacuba. Bernal adds a few details. Of Botello he says: ‘His astrology availed him nothing, for he too died there with his horse.’ Of the horses, twenty-three survived out of eighty. The Tlaxcalan contingent had been badly mauled: Montezuma’s son and two daughters were killed. And he says. ‘Of the followers of Narváez the greater number were left at the bridge weighed down with gold.’ There was only one bright spot: ‘How happy we were to see Doña Marina still alive, and Doña Luisa, whose escape at the bridge was due to some Tlaxcalans, and also another women called Maria de Estrada, who was the only Spanish woman in Mexico.’ Of this intrepid female nothing else is known.
The flight had so far cost Cortés more than half of his army. ‘It was a miracle that any of us escaped,’ he wrote. And they were only at Tacuba, still in sight of the city. Most of them were wounded. The Mexican army was intact. A pursuit was inevitable. Where were they to go? The country-side was roused against them. They could never reach the coast. It seemed, indeed, that, if any were to escape, another miracle would be required. By miracle, Cortés meant a real miracle—the personal intervention of God or His Saints.