THE GREAT MONTEZUMA
favourite captains on either side,—Alvarado, dauntless in bearing and splendid in dress, and modest young Sandoval, in whom "courage was combined with judgment." Father Olmedo, bareheaded and dressed in rough black serge, followed the horsemen on his mule. Then came in order a chosen guard with the flag of Spain, the artillery drawn by slaves, the infantry, cross-bowmen, gunners, and the tamanes with the baggage. With insolent pride marched in the rear the two thousand Tlascalans, who were to enter for the first time the city of their ancient foes.
About a mile and a half from the walls, at a point where a smaller dyke branched off to the western shore, the causeway was barred by the famous stone fort of Xoloc, twelve feet high with towers at either end. A mighty gate swung open for the army to pass through, and, as it clanged heavily behind, each Spaniard breathed a prayer to his guardian saint. They were but four hundred in number, and they were entering an island city of over three hundred thousand inhabitants from which retreat would be wellnigh impossible. "And now let who can tell me," boasts Bernal Diaz with pardonable pride, "where are the men in this world to be found except ourselves who would have hazarded such an attempt?"
As the Spaniards crossed the wooden drawbridge which joined the causeway to the city they beheld, slowly approaching, a procession so magnificent that an awestruck whisper passed through their ranks—"It is the emperor! the great Montezuma himself!"
