A Day Cortez Met Moctezuma, 1519
Time Surfing: Graphic History
Time Surfing: Experience History Firsthand.
Historical Backdrop
In the autumn of 1519, a small band of Spanish soldiers led by Hernán Cortés marched inland from the coast of Mexico toward the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan. The city sat on an island in a great lake, connected to the mainland by long stone causeways. It held perhaps 200,000 people, making it larger than any city in Spain. At its center ruled Moctezuma II, an emperor who was both a war leader and a religious figure, feared and obeyed by millions. Our subject is Malintzin, a young Nahua woman who had been given to the Spaniards as a slave months earlier. She spoke Nahuatl and Maya, and quickly learned Spanish. By this day she had become the most important translator and advisor in Cortés’s force — a person standing exactly between two civilizations that did not understand each other.
November 8, 1519 — Just before dawn, a noble’s house in Iztapalapa, southern shore of Lake Texcoco
You wake in the cool dark on a reed mat, the borrowed room still smelling of copal smoke from last night’s welcome. You hear horses stamping in the courtyard, men coughing, the clink of steel as soldiers strap on armor. You wash your face from a clay bowl, comb your long black hair with your fingers, and tie your skirt tight. Today you will speak for both sides as they finally meet. Your stomach is tight. You chew a little maize cake and step outside into the grey light.
November 8, 1519 — Early morning, the courtyard and gate of Iztapalapa
You step into the courtyard where Cortés is already mounted on his dark horse, his steel chest-plate catching the first sun. He calls your name and you walk to his side, your usual place. Around you, soldiers form into ranks, crossbowmen check their strings, and the few horses snort and toss their heads. Aztec lords stand stiffly nearby, watching the strangers with careful eyes. The morning is cold and smells of horse, oiled metal, and lake water. Cortés tells you, through the priest Aguilar, that you must stay close all day. You nod.
November 8, 1519 — Mid-morning, the great southern causeway across Lake Texcoco
You walk onto the causeway, a wide stone road running straight across the shining lake. On both sides the water is crowded with thousands of canoes, paddlers standing to stare at you. Ahead, the white city rises out of the water like something from a dream, its towers and temples gleaming. The soldiers around you fall silent. You hear the slap of paddles, gulls, and the murmur of huge crowds gathering. Cortés rides slowly, his eyes wide. You keep walking, the stone warm now under your sandals, the smell of fish and lake mud heavy in the air.
November 8, 1519 — Late morning, the fortified gate of Xoloc on the causeway
You reach a low fort where two stone walls meet the causeway, guarded by a tower and a wooden gate. Here a stream of Aztec lords comes out to greet Cortés, each touching the ground with his hand and then his lips, the highest sign of respect. They wear rich cloaks and gold ornaments, and they speak quickly. You translate, turning Nahuatl into Maya for the priest Aguilar, who turns it into Spanish for Cortés. It is slow and tiring work. The lords keep their eyes lowered. You feel many people watching you, the strange woman who speaks for the bearded men.
November 8, 1519 — Around midday, the causeway just outside Tenochtitlan
