In the
name of the nation, I now tender obedience to the Spaniards. We will
be as faithful in peace as we have been bold in war."

Cortez received this submission with great secret satisfaction, for
his men, worn down with fatigue, were beginning loudly to murmur. A
cordial peace was soon concluded. The Tlascalans were the inveterate
foes of the Mexicans, and had long been fighting against them. They
yielded themselves as vassals to the King of Spain, and engaged to
assist Cortez in all his enterprises. The two armies, which had
recently met in such fierce and terrible encounter, now mingled
together as friends and brothers. In one vast united band they marched
toward the great city of Tlascala, and entered the capital in triumph.

It was, indeed, a large and magnificent city; more populous, and
of more imposing architecture, Cortez asserts, than the celebrated
Moorish capital, Granada, in old Spain. An immense throng flocked from
the gates of the city to meet the troops. The roofs of the houses were
covered with spectators. Wild music, from semi-barbarian voices and
bands, filled the air. Plumed warriors hurried to and fro, and shouts
of welcome seemed to rend the skies, as these hardy adventurers slowly
defiled through the crowded gates and streets of the city. The police
regulations were extraordinarily effective, repressing all disorder.
The Spaniards were surprised to find barbers' shops, and also baths
both for hot and cold water.

The submission of the Tlascalans was sincere and entire. They were
convinced that the Spaniards were beings of a superior order whom it
was in vain to resist. Cortez treated the vanquished natives with
great courtesy and kindness. He took the Tlascalan republic under his
protection, and promised to defend them from every foe.

The peril of Cortez at this juncture had been very great. The
difficulty of obtaining sufficient food for his army, while ever on
the march, called into requisition his utmost sagacity and exertions.
No man of ordinary character could have surmounted this difficulty.
Fatigue and exposure had placed many on the sick-list, and there were
no hospital wagons to convey them along. Fifty-five Spaniards had died
on the way. Cortez himself was seriously indisposed. Every night one
half of the army kept up a vigilant watch, while all the rest slept on
their arms. And Diaz records that they had no salve to dress their
wounds but what was composed of the fat of the Indi