red on the cavalry
to force a passage for the infantry, and kept exhorting his soldiers,
while showing them an example of personal daring. "If we fail now," he
cried, "the Cross of Christ can never be planted in this land. Forward,
comrades! when was it ever known that a Castilian turned his back on a
foe?"

With desperate efforts the soldiers forced a passage through the Indian
columns, and then, as soon as the horse opened room for the movements of
the gunners, the terrible "thunder and lightning" of the cannon did the
rest. The havoc caused in their ranks, combined with the roar and the
flash of gunpowder, and the mangled carcasses, filled the whole of the
barbarian army with horror and consternation. Eight leaders of the
Tlascalan army having fallen, the prince ordered a retreat.

The chief of the Tlascalans, Xicotencatl, was no ordinary leader. When
Cortes wished to press on to the capital, he sent two envoys to the
Tlascalan camp, but all that Xicotencatl deigned to reply was

that the Spaniards might pass on as soon as they chose to Tlascala,
and when they reached it their flesh would be hewn from their
bodies for sacrifice to the gods. If they preferred to remain in
their own quarters, he would pay them a visit there the next day.

The envoys also told Cortes that the chief had now collected another
very large army, five battalions of 10,000 men each. There was evidently
a determination to try the fate of Tlascala by a pitched battle and
exterminate the bold invaders.

The next day, September 5, 1519, was therefore a critical one in the
annals of Cortes. He resolved to meet the Tlascalan chief in the field,
after directing the foot-soldiers to use the point of their swords and
not the edge; the horse to charge at half speed, directing their lances
at the eyes of their enemies; the gunners and crossbowmen to support
each other, some loading while others were discharging their pieces.

Before Cortes and his soldiers had marched a mile they saw the immense
Tlascalan army stretched far and wide over a vast plain. Nothing could
be more picturesque than the aspect of these Indian battalions, with the
naked bodies of the common soldiers gaudily painted, the fantastic
helmets of the chiefs bright with ornaments and precious stones, and the
glowing panoplies of feather-work....

The golden glitterance and the feather-mail
More gay than glittering gold; and round the helm
A coronal of hig