Two days later came the news that Montezuma was dead, and shortly after it his body, which the Spaniards handed over to the Aztecs for burial, attired in the gorgeous robes of royalty.  They laid it in the hall of the palace, whence it was hurried secretly and at night to Chapoltepec, and there hidden away with small ceremony, for it was feared that the people might rend it limb from limb in their rage.  With Otomie weeping at my side, I looked for the last time on the face of that most unhappy king, whose reign so glorious in its beginning had ended thus.  And while I looked I wondered what suffering could have equalled his, as fallen from his estate and hated by the subjects whom he had betrayed, he lay dying, a prisoner in the power of the foreign wolves who were tearing out his country’s heart.  It is little wonder indeed that Montezuma rent the bandages from his wounds and would not suffer them to tend his hurts.  For the real hurt was in his soul; there the iron had entered deeply, and no leech could cure it except one called Death.  And yet the fault was not all his, the devils whom he worshipped as gods were revenged upon him, for they had filled him with the superstitions of their wicked faith, and because of these the gods and their high priest must sink into a common ruin.  Were it not for these unsubstantial terrors that haunted him, the Spaniards had never won a foothold in Tenoctitlan, and the Aztecs would have remained free for many a year to come.  But Providence willed it otherwise, and this dead and disgraced monarch was but its instrument.

Such were the thoughts that passed through my mind as I gazed upon the body of the great Montezuma.  But Otomie, ceasing from her tears, kissed his clay and cried aloud: 

’O my father, it is well that you are dead, for none who loved you could desire to see you live on in shame and servitude.  May the gods you worshipped give me strength to avenge you, or if they be no gods, then may I find it in myself.  I swear this, my father, that while a man is left to me I will not cease from seeking to avenge you.’

Then taking my hand, without another word she turned and passed thence.  As will be seen, she kept her oath.

On that day and on the morrow there was fighting with the Spaniards, who sallied out to fill up the gaps in the dykes of the causeway, a task in which they succeeded, though with some loss.  But it availed them nothing, for so soon as their backs were turned we opened the dykes again.  It was on these days that for the first time I had experience of war, and armed with my bow made after the English pattern, I did good service.  As it chanced, the very first arrow that I drew was on my hated foe de Garcia, but here my common fortune pursued me, for being out of practice, or over-anxious, I aimed too high, though the mark was an easy one, and the shaft pierced the iron of his casque, causing him to reel in his saddle, but doing him no further hurt.  Still this marksmanship, poor as it was, gained me great renown among the Aztecs, who were but feeble archers, for they had never before seen an arrow pierce through the Spanish mail.  Nor would mine have done so had I not collected the iron barbs off the crossbow bolts of the Spaniards, and fitted them to my own shafts.  I seldom found the mail that would withstand arrows made thus, when the range was short and the aim good.