Ahuitzotl. Herb AllengerЧитать онлайн книгу.
its ground under the valorous efforts of Nezahualpilli and Chimalpopoca and the right wing, first under Motecuhzoma and then Ahuitzotl, which fell upon their rear. They knew it was over for them; their all-out drive to seize Tizoc had failed, primarily because of an unexpectedly strong defense put up by his protective Eagles which robbed them of critical minutes and permitted reinforcements to arrive. Had they succeeded, they could have used the monarch’s person to keep his rescuers at bay, retreated back to their city, and obtained acceptable terms for his release. Zozoltin’s entire plan rested on this single daring move. Now all was lost.
Doomed, the Tolucans refused to concede defeat and faught tenaciously against captivity, enraging the Mexica who resented this break in convention—battles were waged to acquire prisoners for eventual sacrifice—and now were forced to beat them into submission. They hacked viciously at their attackers, who came at them from all sides, and struck them down in great numbers, only to be compressed tighter and tighter until they were too cramped to wield their weapons. Many, in their death throes, leaped at the nearest assailant and furiously embraced him, biting and clawing to immobilize him so he could be slain by the others. Into this constricted heap of battered bodies, the Mexica hurled and jabbed their lances: obsidian tipped projectiles gored necks, chests, and abdomens of entrapped warriors. Everywhere the blood ran, spurting over bodies and spilling to the ground; the dying, squirming in pain, choked in it. This gruesome slaughter, while ferocious and intense, lasted but a short time until more than half of Zozoltin’s force lay in gory piles about him.
“Stop the killing!” Zozoltin roared out. “We yield to you!”
“Hold off!” responded Ahuitzotl. “We want them alive!”
Shortly thereafter the fighting ceased and the Tolucans dropped their arms, offering no more resistance as they stood shocked and dazed, hearing the moans of their wounded and dying all about them. Their conquerors quickly took hold of them, binding their hands behind their backs. Zozoltin was brought before Ahuitzotl who had by now learned of Tizoc’s flight.
“So this is how you planned to win,” Ahuitzotl taunted his captive. “It explains everything—the deceptions, the failure to seek allies—a truly bold design. It almost worked—Tizoc will vouch for that. You’ve made it difficult for us. For that, your city will pay the price.”
“You are a mad dog!” raged Zozoltin. “It is Lord Tizoc I wish to appeal to.”
“Unfortunately—for you!—you have chased him from the field so it is I, Ahuitzotl, who will enter Toluca. By the time he returns, my work there will be finished. Take him away!”
“Monster! May you be cursed!” screamed Zozoltin as he was being dragged off. “May the gods damn you!”
Ahuitzotl had commenced issuing orders directing his units to regroup for their assault on the hapless city when Nezahualpilli, thoroughly exhausted from his arduous ordeal, came forward.
“What took you so long?” he puffed angrily.
“We were heavily engaged on the right. I couldn’t come any earlier.”
Nezahualipilli’s intense glare told Ahuitzotl that the Texcocan did not believe him. “Their lines were thin,” he said, “and they employed the bulk of their force in their drive upon our center. You could have easily sent half your army to relieve us when you first saw this.”
“Leave me be!” Ahuitzotl growled, “We have unfinished work to do!” With that, he ordered his attack.
Nezahualpilli, outraged but spent of energy, felt in no mood to restrain him and, even as the reservists were taking their bound prisoners to the Mexica camp for internment, Ahuitzotl and his remaining front line squadrons stormed into Toluca.
The carnage that arose was absolutely frightful. Soldiers, infuriated over the stiff resistance encountered earlier and its resultant unexpected high losses, were given a free hand to vent their fury upon a defenseless populace and cruelly sacked the city. Unusual for the Mexica, whose ethical standards and discipline prohibited rapine and slaughter of noncombatants, this resultant brutality, which arose almost spontaneously, was more due to a loss of restraint over hot-headed individuals than out of any intentional design yet nonetheless proved disastrous for Toluca’s inhabitants. Defenseless women were dragged screaming from their homes by howling warriors to satisfy their carnal appetites, and when they resisted, were clubbed to death or strangled. Houses were set on fire, with some still holding occupants too frightened to come out of hiding who perished in the flames shrieking horribly, and everywhere looting prevailed. The rampaging soldiers ran into pockets of resistance where priests and old men, and even some women, armed themselves to make a stand. These they quickly dispatched, but when they reached the central temple, hundreds of armed priests awaited them at its front steps.
Motecuhzoma’s squadron was the first to come upon them and unchecked, without waiting for specific instructions, it charged headlong against them. In a scene straight out of an unspeakable nightmare, amidst the blackened smoke and glowing fires of a city in destruction about them, Motecuhzoma and his frenzied warriors hacked their way step by step up the temple’s platforms, killing the priests opposing them and dodging the bodies rolling down beneath their feet. The priests were no match for the better armed and better trained warriors and fell in rapid succession before the stone eyes of the god they were pledged to protect, a butchery that continued unabated to the upper stage and into the temple’s shrine until the last of them was struck down directly in front of the idol while desperately pleading to it for a divine last instant intercession. Then the Mexica toppled the statue from its pedestal, carried it through the narrow doorway, and rolled it across the platform to the steps where it bounced down in dull thuds over the bodies of dead and dying votaries until it crashed into pieces at the bottom. Next, they set fire to whatever would burn inside the shrine—this was the work of one squadron out of an army run amok.
Ahuitzotl, horrified over the extreme violence he had unleashed, called forth his leading commanders. “Stop your men from this madness!” he shouted.
“But we thought you sanctioned this,” answered one of the captains.
“Fool! Do you think I would condone this kind of savagery? I had no idea it would come to this. The people were to be enslaved—not brutalized! We must put a stop to this!”
“It’s impossible now—they’re beyond our control!”
“I said to stop them!” Ahuitzotl raged. “Upon pain of death, obey my orders!”
Frantically, the captains ran from unit to unit, bellowing out commands to subordinate chieftains who, after tremendous effort that included actually dragging soldiers from out of houses they were looting and threatening them with punishment by death, eventually managed to attain some semblance of discipline. Gradually order was restored and the warriors, their heated passions enervated, now stood red-faced and ashamed of their gruesome conduct and gathered up the remaining prisoners—mostly weeping women and children and a few old men—and sheltered them from additional abuse as they were assembled in a group.
All this was taking place during the time span in which Tizoc and his entourage fled towards the protection of the army’s right flank and, upon seeing the danger passed, returned to their former position where Nezahualpilli and Chimalpopoca were still standing, fatigued from their hard fight. At seeing the monarch, Nezahualpilli’s disdain heightened.
“You have committed the gravest error!” he denounced Tizoc. “Today’s action will forever be held against you!”
“I did what was prudent,” Tizoc answered, vigorous in his attempt to minimize the blunder. “Had I been taken, there would have been no victory for us this day.”
Nezahualpilli may have perceived the truth in this, but also knew such a justification would never be acccepted. As for Chimalpopoca, he said nothing in his embarrassment and refrained from eyeing Tizoc.
“You should have stayed!” Nezahualpilli said. “I told you we could hold them.”
“I could not have known that at the time. I do not wish to belabor the point. I see the city