500 Men vs an Empire: Hernán Cortés and the Conquest of Mexico — Part 3

A great plague broke out here in Tenochtitlan, striking everywhere in the city and killing a vast number of people. Sores erupted on our faces, our breasts, our bellies. We were covered with agonising sores from head to foot. The illness was so dreadful that no one could walk or move. The sick was so utterly helpless they could only lie on their beds like corpses, unable to move their limbs or even their heads. They could not lie face down or roll from one side to the other. If they did move their bodies, they screamed with pain. A great many died from the plague, and many others died of hunger.

They could not get up to search for food, and everyone else was too sick to care for them, so they starved to death in their beds. By the time the danger was recognised, the plague was so well established that nothing could halt it. Book 12 of the Florentine Codex Darkness. Only the soft splash of water against the stone disrupted the silence. Slowly, almost silently, the Spanish crept along the western Corvair, leaving out of 10 Arctic clan.

Ahead of them, men strained beneath a heavy wooden bridge, lowering it across the first gap where the Mexico had torn away the roadway 1 by 1. The column edged forward. Behind them came horses, cannon, thousands of indigenous allies, and endless lines of Spaniards staggering beneath the weight of stolen gold. For a fleeting moment it seemed they might escape. Then, from the summit of the temple Mayo, a drum began to beat Boo Boo Boo.

It's deep rhythm rolled across the sleeping lake and alarm, a summons to war. The Spaniards froze. Then came the answering cries from every street, every rooftop, every canal. Within seconds the waters erupted, with hundreds of meshika canoes racing towards the causeways. The Spaniards broke into a run. Behind them, warriors closed in from the darkness. Then came the first volley, a storm of arrow, Spears and stones. Men toppled into the lake.

Horse screamed. The great drum continued its relentless rhythm. Boom, boom, boom. The canoe slammed into the sides of the causeways. Mexica warriors leapt aboard. Some dragged terrified Spaniards screaming into the waters. Others seized them alive. Prisoners destined not for execution but for the sacrificial stone high atop the Great Pyramid. Panic spread through the column. Those who had stuffed their armour with bags of gold and glittering treasures, now discovered it's terrible cost. Their weight dragged them beneath the black water. They vanished without a cry.

Around them, cannons overturned, horses crashed into canals, The portable bridge became jammed with bodies. The escape dissolved into chaos. At the centre of the carnage, Hernán Cortés fought desperately onwards. His armour soaked, his sword slipped with blood, his tiny army disintegrating around him. Somehow, against all expectation, he reached the far side of the Causeway. For a brief moment, he turned. Behind him, the night became an inferno. The Causeway was choked with the dead, the waters shimmering beneath the moonlight filled with wreckage, bodies, and struggling men.

The last of his soldiers were still fighting, still falling, still being dragged away towards the city they had hoped to conquer. Cortés watched for only a heartbeat. Then he turned and fled. Welcome to ancient, to recent. My name is Joseph Parkinson. Today we continue the story of Hernán Cortés and the conquest of Mexico. To support the show, subscribe today and get notifications of new episodes out every Saturday and available on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

Weeks before, the Spaniards had settled uneasily into life in Techno Ticlan. As autumn gave way to winter, they wandered through the city, determined to understand the astonishing civilization into which they had arrived. Every day brought fresh discoveries. Every street seemed to reveal another wonder. The city itself possessed a beauty unlike anything they had ever encountered. Nestled upon islands in the shimmering waters of Lake Texcoco, surrounded by towering volcanic mountains, Technocticlan appeared almost too perfect to belong to the real world.

The climate was mild. Gardens overflowed with flowers. The canals bustled with hundreds of canoes, carrying every imaginable commodity. The Spaniards themselves were lodged in a magnificent palace prepared at the Emperor's command. It's spacious courtyards, richly decorated chambers and attentive servants exceeded anything most of them had ever known in Spain. And everywhere there was wealth. Not merely gold, but there was plenty of that.

But jade, turquoise, exquisite feathers, fine cotton garments, carved stones, beautiful pottery, objects fashioned with a skill that astonished even the most seasoned veteran. The great marketplace seemed almost beyond belief. Thousands of merchants gathered each day. Fresh fruits from the tropical lowlands. Vanilla, cacao, Chili Peppers, medicinal herbs, jewellery, weapons, cotton, clothes, live animals, foods from every corner of the empire. The market operated with remarkable order. Officials supervised transactions, judges settled disputes.

Weights and measures were carefully enforced. To many of the Spaniards, it was better organized than any market they had encountered in Europe. But now, Diaz later confessed that they scarcely knew where to look. It was a sensory overload, The colours, the sounds, the unfamiliar sense. Drifting through the streets, they had come searching for Asia. Instead, they had found an entire different civilization. Yet beneath the wonder, unease lingered.

The Mexico remained courteous but distant, formal but far from welcoming. The Spanish noticed the animated discussions quickly turned to sullen silence as soon as their presence was felt. Whispers travelled through the city, though no Spaniard was certain what was being said. There could be no doubt as to the subject of conversation. They were guests. But perhaps for only so long as the hosts hospitality lasted. But it was not only the hustle and bustle of the marketplace that drew the Spaniards attention. Each day another sound echoed across the city. The deep rhythmic beat, the sacred drum from the summit of the temple.

The Spaniards soon learned what it meant. Another human sacrifice. Curiosity eventually overcame them. Cortés asked permission to visit the great temple itself. Together with several of his captains, he climbed the steep staircase towards it's summit. There, the beauty of Technoticlan gave way to horror. Before them stood the sacrificial stone upon which countless victims had been laid. Nearby were vessels said to contain freshly removed human hearts.

The stones themselves were blackened and crusted with putrefying blunt The steps, Spanish witnesses claimed, were stained where the bodies of the sacrifice had tumbled down back towards the city below. Towering above the altar stood enormous images of the Mexica gods. To the Spanish, they appeared to be hideous demons, images of Satan himself. The temple priests did little to soften the impression. Their long hair hung in thick, matted locks caked with dried blood.

Their ears, lips and flesh were pierced in acts of ritual devotion. Many were black robes stained by years of sacrifice, the smell of incense mixed with blood lingering heavily in the air. The Spaniards recoiled. Everything they had admired about the city suddenly seemed overshadowed by what they regarded as unimaginable evil. Soon afterwards, Cortés confronted Moctezuma. He declared that these were not gods at all, the devils.

He urged the emperor to cast down the idols, to abandon human sacrifice, and to allow a cross and the image of the Virgin Mary to be placed within the temple. Moctezuma listened patiently and politely refused. The gods of the Mexica had protected his people for generations. Without them, he replied, the empire would cease to exist. The conversation turned instead to the history of the Mexica. According to Cortés's later account, Moctezuma spoke of ancient traditions foretelling the return of powerful Lords from the east, descendants of former rulers who had one day reclaimed their inheritance. Spanish chroniclers would later present this as proof that Moctezuma believed Cortés to be a returning God and willingly submitting to him.

It was an extraordinarily convenient story, one that transformed conquest into destiny, obedience into consent. Modern historians, however, remain deeply sceptical. The speeches attributed to Moctezuma survived only in Spanish accounts written after the conquest. What exactly was said, or even whether these conversations occurred, is impossible to know. What is clear is that Moctezuma extended remarkable hospitality to these unexpected guests.

What is far less clear is 1 Was he genuinely uncertain who these strange newcomers were? Was he buying time or deciding exactly how best to destroy them? Did he believe he was manipulating Cortés just as surely as Cortés believes he was manipulating Moctezuma? The game had begun. Neither man yet realized only one of them would survive. The Spaniards moved through Tenochtitlan like fish through a shore. As they approached, the crowds quietly parted.

The Mexica watched them with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. Children appeared from behind their mothers. Merchants paused in their trading. Nobles observed from shaded courtyards. Some came close enough to marvel at the strangers. Pale faces, their thick beards and gleaming steel armour. Others kept their distance, unsure whether these newcomers were honor guests or the harbingers of disaster. The Spaniards stared back with equal curiosity. Everything around them seemed impossibly strange. The language, the customs, the magnificent temples, the bustling canals, the feathered cloaks of the nobility, the fearsome eagle and Jaguar warriors. Every encounter reminded them how very far they were from home.

Here, beneath the surface, calm events were beginning to unravel. In the middle of November, alarming news arrived from the Spanish Garrison on the Gulf Coast as Villa Rica de la Cruz fighting had broken out near Nautilat. The Spanish commander, Juan de Escalante, had intervened on behalf of one of Spain's indigenous allies after a dispute with forces commanded by the local Michigan governor. The confrontation turned violent. Several Spaniards were killed.

Escalante himself was mortally wounded. One of the Spanish soldiers was captured alive. He was sacrificed, according to the Spanish Chronicles, His severed head was sent inland. Only then, they claimed, did the Mexico realise something astonishing. These strangers from across the sea were humans just like them. Not gods, but man of flesh and blood. They could bleed. They could die. Then word reached Cortés. He was furious.

Whether Moctezuma had personally ordered the attack remained uncertain. The modern historians continue to debate the question. Cortés had no such doubts. He marched directly to the emperor, demanded an explanation. Montezuma denied any involvement. He insisted he had issued no such order. The emperor immediately offered to investigate and punish those responsible, but Cortés was no longer prepared to trust him. The Spaniards made an extraordinary demand. Moctezuma, Cortés declared, must accompany him back to the palace.

When the Spaniards were courted, The emperor stared in disbelief. Such a thing was unthinkable. No Mexica emperor had ever been treated in such a manner. He refused. The discussion became increasingly heated. Voices rose. The emperor repeated that he was innocent. Cortés remained unmoved. According to Spanish accounts, his captains quietly made it clear they've Moctezuma refused. They could no longer guarantee safety. The implication required no further explanation. After hours of argument, the emperor yielded. He agreed to accompany the Spaniards. The procession that followed must have seemed almost impossible to comprehend.

The ruler of the greatest empire in Mesoamerica walked willingly into Spanish captivity. The Messica looked on in stunned silence. Many could scarcely believe what they were witnessing. Their emperor was not bound. He was not dragged through the streets. Yet everyone understood what had happened. He had ceased to be the master of his own movements. From that moment onwards, Moctezuma had become Cortés's greatest bargaining chip, his insurance policy, his shield against an empire of hundreds of thousands.

The Spaniards had achieved something that should have been impossible with barely 400 men. They had taken the emperor of the Mexico prisoner. The question now was not whether Tecnoticlan would react, but when. Within days, the men held responsible for the attack at Nautla had been brought to Technoticlan. Amongst them was the Mexico governor. Judgement was swift. The man, together with his sons and several leading nobles, were condemned to death.

The sentence was burning alive. According to the Spanish Chronicles, Moctezuma himself was placed in chains and forced to witness the execution. The flames rose high into the sky. The condemned screamed 1 by 1. They disappeared into the fire. Only when the execution had ended, Cortés claimed, were the emperor's chains removed. Then came one of the most remarkable episodes in the entire conquest. According to Cortés's own account, he informed Moctezuma that he was now free to return to his palace. The emperor, so we are led to believe, declined. Moctezuma supposedly insisted that he had pledged his loyalty to King Charles of Spain, who had recently been elected Holy Roman Emperor, and as such it would be dishonorable to leave Spanish protection.

It's a remarkable story, perhaps too remarkable. Almost every detail comes from Spanish sources. To Cortés, it demonstrated that the emperor had freely accepted Spanish authority. To modern historians, it reads rather differently. The account conveniently transforms a hostage into a willing ally, conquest into consent, coercion into loyalty. Whatever Montezuma truly believed, his imprisonment had unleashed a profound crisis within Mexica society. The Emperor was not merely the political ruler of the empire. He occupied a sacred office.

As the great speaker, he stood at the centre of the relationship between the Mexica and their gods. His authority was believed to have been bestowed by the divine. His ceremonies maintained the sacred order upon which the empire rested. To understand the shock felt throughout Techno Ticlan, one must understand how the Mexica viewed the universe itself. The world, they believed, existed only because the gods had sacrificed themselves to create it.

That sacrifice demanded repayment. The sun required nourishment. The cosmos required feeding. Without continual offerings, the heavens themselves might fall. Human sacrifice was therefore not an act of cruelty for its own sake. It was a cosmic act of necessity. Those captured in war became the offspring through which the universe continued to exist. War sustained sacrifice, sacrifice sustained the gods, and the gods sustained the world.

A supreme ruler. It was Moctezuma's responsibility to preserve the sacred order. Now the man entrusted with maintaining the balance of the universe is a captive of foreign invaders. The consequences were almost unimaginable. If the emperor himself could be humbled, what else? The people of Techno Ticla began to wonder might soon be overturned. For the moment, Cortés believed he had the winning hand. As long as Moctezuma remained his prisoner, the Spaniards possessed an insurance policy unlike any other. They were hopelessly outnumbered, yet no Mexica commander would risk attack while the emperor remained in Spanish hands.

There was, however, one problem. Moctezuma's authority did not rest simply upon his bloodline. It rested upon his position as a religious figure. If the emperor ceased to command the reverence of his people, he ceased to be useful. Cortés therefore, walked a careful line. The emperor continued to receive nobles. He continued to perform many of his ceremonial duties, even human sacrifice. The Spaniards watched in horror.

Yet they tolerated what only weeks before they had condemned. Political necessity outweighed religious conviction. For now, Cortés remained determined to convert the Messica to Christianity, but he had learnt an important lesson from Spain itself. Following the Rico Quista, generations of Jews and Muslims had been forced to convert. Many outwardly accepted baptism, only to continue practicing their old faith and secret. The result had been suspicion, persecution and the Spanish Inquisition.

A Christian conversion, the Spanish believed, had to be sincere, not merely imposed at the point of the sword. Moctezuma therefore received instruction in the Christian faith, yet the discussions often produce confusion rather than understanding. To the Mexica, adding another powerful deity to their existing pantheon presented no obvious contradiction. Christ, to the Mexica, was simply another divine being worthy of honour.

To the Spaniards, such an idea was unthinkable. Christ was not one God amongst many. He was the only God. To place him alongside Mexica deities was not compromise, it was blasphemy. Meanwhile, relations within the Spanish camp became increasingly strained. Arguments erupted over the division of gold. Tempest flared. Patience wolf in. Outside the palace, the atmosphere and the city grew ever more dangerous. According to Spanish accounts, Moctezuma warned Cortés that his gods had commanded war against the strangers.

The season of great religious ceremonies was approaching. The nobles grew increasingly impatient. How much longer, they demanded, would these foreigners be permitted to occupy the heart of the capital, their presence consuming food, disrupting daily life, and humiliating the empire before it's own people? Then everything changed. Messengers arrived from the Gulf Coast. A large Spanish fleet had landed, not to reinforce Cortés, but to arrest him. The expedition had been dispatched by Diego Velasquez, governor of Cuba.

It was commanded by Panfilo del Navaeth. His orders were simple. Seize Hernán Cortés and his rebellion. Return him to Cuba in chains. Cortés immediately sent envoys to learn more. Navaeth arrested them. Cortés responded with characteristic audacity. More envoys followed. Some were captured, others returned. Slowly. He built a picture of the army confronting him. Nevaeh possessed more men, more cavalry, more crossbow men, more guns.

Yet his army suffered from poor morale. Many believed their commander arrogant. Others complained that the treasure received from local allies had not been fairly distributed. Sensing an opportunity, Cortés marched for the coast in early May 1520, with barely 80 Spaniards, leaving the capital in the hands of his trusted Lieutenant, Pedro de Alvarado. On the night of the 27th of May, Cortés struck. His men stormed Navarrete's headquarters.

Navarrete was captured. His army surrendered. Then Cortés accomplished something even more remarkable rather than imprisoning the defeated soldiers. He persuaded almost all of them to join him. His tiny expedition had suddenly doubled in strength. But while Cortés celebrated his victory, disaster was unfolded inside Tenochtitlan. Without Cortés's political judgement, events spiraled rapidly out of control. Food deliveries to the Spaniard slowed, then stopped.

At the same time, preparations began for the great festival of Tosh Kalal, one of the most important religious celebrations in the Mexico calendar. It was accompanied by ritual dancing, music and ultimately human sacrifice. The Spaniards, indigenous allies, became deeply alarmed. For generations, they themselves had often supplied many of the victims offered upon Mexica altars. Rumours swept through the Spanish army, with the ceremonies merely a festival or the prelude to a coordinated uprising. Communication also began to collapse. Many of Cortés's most experienced interpreters had accompanied him to the coast.

Misunderstanding multiplied. Fear fed uncertainty. As the festival reached its height, the great drum echoed across the city. Hundreds of richly dressed nobles danced within the sacred precinct. Their songs rose to the sky. Then Alvarado made his decision. Spanish soldiers sealed the entrance. Without warning, they set up on the Mexica. The slaughter was horrific. The Florentine codex, compiled from indigenous testimonies, remembered it with chilling simplicity. The blood, it ran like water.

It gathered in pools and the smell of blood filled the air. Men were cut down as they danced. Musicians died by their drums. Nobles begged for mercy. None was given. Swords rose and fell. Crossbows fired into the crowd. The sacred festival became a massacre. Then the great drums sounded once more, not to summon men to worship, but to war. Across Technoticlan, warriors seized their weapons. Within moments, the Spaniards found themselves surrounded.

Missiles rain down from rooftops. The Mexica surged through the streets. Alvarado and his men fought their way back to the palace, barricading themselves inside. Desperate, outnumbered, running short of food. In one final attempt to restore orders, the Spaniards turn to the only weapon they believe they still possessed. Montezuma himself. They ordered the Emperor to address his people, to command, to lay down their arms. But something fundamentally had changed. The Emperor, who had once spoken and been obeyed without question, no longer commanded the city outside his walls. As Hernán Cortés approached Tenochtitlan, he knew only that something had gone terribly wrong. He did not know what, but he could feel it. When he had first marched towards the city seven months earlier, every mile had brought welcoming delegations. Nobles bearing flowers, priests carrying incense, envoys laden with magnificent gifts.

The road had bustled with curious onlookers, eager to catch a glimpse of the strangers from across the sea. Now nothing. The road lay almost deserted. The silence was oppressive. The few people he encountered watched without expression. No smiles, no gifts, no welcome. Sensing danger, Cortés abandoned the direct approach and cautiously circled the city before entering on the 24th of June 1520. The scene that greeted him confirmed his worst fears. The Spaniards were exhausted, hungry, wounded, barricaded inside the palace where they had become prisoners almost as surely as the emperor they guarded, Montezuma greeted Cortés with visible relief.

The Cortés immediately recognized an uncomfortable truth. His greatest bargaining chip had lost its value. The emperor no longer commanded his people. Without that authority, he was of little use as a hostage. The following day, hoping to restore order, Cortés made a disastrous decision. He released Quitelwak, Montezuma's brother, instructing him to organise fresh food supplies for the starving Spaniards and calm the increasingly hostile city.

Instead, Quitelwak disappeared into Techmoticlan. Within hours, the city was preparing for war. The palace was surrounded. Thousands of warriors filled the streets. No food arrived, only enemies. From the rooftops, the Spaniards watched the city transformed into an armed camp. There was one final hope. Once more. They turned to Moctezuma. Cortés led the emperor onto the roof of the palace. Below, thousands of Mexico warriors gathered in the square.

The emperor raised his voice. He pleaded with his people to end the fighting, to allow the Spaniards to leave in peace. His words barely carried across the crowd. Then a stone flew through the air. Another, then another. Arrows followed. Montezuma collapsed. According to Spanish chronicles, he'd been struck by missiles, hurled by his own subjects, mortally wounded by the very people he sought to calm. Indigenous accounts tell a very different story.

They insist the Spaniards themselves killed him once they realized he ceased to be of value. Which vision is true we cannot know, only that within days the emperor was dead. With Moctezuma gone, the Spaniards had no cards left to play. Their only hope was to escape undercover of darkness. On the night of the 30th of June, they abandoned the palace. Ahead of the column, engineers carried a heavy portable bridge. One by one they lowered it across the gap of the Great Causeway where the Mexica had removed the permanent bridge.

Then they were seen high atop the temple Mayo. The Great War drum began to beat. It's Thunder rolled across the lake. Within moments the water erupted. Hundreds of canoes surged towards the Causeway. Warriors paddled furiously through the darkness. A storm of arrows, Spears and stones crashed into the fleeing columns. The Spaniards fought desperately to keep moving. Many slipped from the narrow roadway into the lake. Others tried to swim.

Some succeeded, many did not. Those who would fill their armour with gold soon discovered the treasures had become a death sentence, the wait dragging them beneath the waters. Others were seized alive. The Mexico warriors pulled them into the waiting canoes, not to kill them, but to carry them back to the city. Their fate would be the sacrificial stone. By dawn, the Causeway had become a graveyard, bodies floating in the lake.

Dead horses lay tangled amongst broken cannon and shattered wagons. The army that had entered Tenochtitlan dreaming of unimaginable riches, have been almost completely destroyed. Thousands of the trash Galan Cortés's indigenous allies never reached the mainland. The conquest of Mexico seemed to have ended in catastrophe. The morning of the 1st of July dawned upon disaster. Exhausted, bleeding and surrounded by the remnants of the shattered army, Hernán Cortés is said to have wept.

Later generations would remember the place beneath an ancient Cypress tree as the Night of Sorrows. Barely 400 Spaniards had escaped the city alive. Most of their cannon had been lost. Much of their cavalry had perished. Thousands of their allies lay dead upon the Causeway or awaiting sacrifice inside Technoticlan. Yet even in defeat, Cortés refused to surrender hope. A year earlier, he had dispatched trusted envoys across the Atlantic, carrying news of his discoveries and vast quantities of treasure to the court of Charles the 5th.

There they had found that another voice had arrived before them, Diego Velasquez, the governor of Cuba. Velasquez had denounced Cortés as a rebel and demanded royal justice, but Gold had the remarkable ability to command attention. The treasure carried from Mexico made a profound impression upon the King. Charles refused to condemn Cortés outright. If Charles sided with Cortés, then victory was at hand. If the king allied himself with Velasquez, then all was lost.

But at the moment Cortés had more pressing matters to attend to, like how not to end up being sacrificed to the Mexica gods. The retreat continued. Cortés insisted that the disaster was merely a set back. His men could scarcely believe it. Many were badly wounded. Food was desperately scarce. Every mile towards the coast carried them through hostile country, and they knew the Mexica would not allow them to escape without a fight.

Some communities welcomed the battered Spaniards. Old enemies of the Mexica provided food, shelter and guides. Others shadowed the retreat. From a distance, bands of Mexico warriors launched sudden attacks before disappearing into the countryside. Another man fell behind. Another horse collapsed. Another shriek followed by silence. With each passing day, the shattered army grew weaker. Then, on the plains near Otoomba, the retreat came close to ending altogether. A great Mexica army blocked their path. The Spaniards were exhausted, outnumbered and in the brink destruction.

Realizing they could not win a battle of attrition, Cortés gambled everything. He led a furious cavalry charge directly towards the Mexica commanders. In the desperate fighting, the Mexica commander was killed. Confusion swept through the ranks. Discipline collapsed, but it seemed a certain victory suddenly dissolved into panic. The Mexica, the true Against all expectations, the Spaniards had survived. Several days later, they reached the relative safety of Trash Kalan for the first time since fleeing the capital.

They could rest, They could eat. They could begin to recover. The new Mexica ruler, Kwitelwak, immediately sought to exploit the situation. Envoys hurried to trash Kalan. They urged Cortés's allies to abandon the Spaniards before they brought further ruin upon themselves. The trash Kalan listened that they remembered centuries of Mexica domination. If the Spaniards failed, the Mexica would once again stand supreme.

After hard bargaining, the alliance endured that trash. Kalan secured valuable concessions, including a share of future spoils and important political privileges. Cortés had lost an army, but not his allies. Nor had he lost his determination. Many of his own officers urged him to abandon the conquest altogether, return to the coast, wait for reinforcements, live to fight another day. Cortés refused. He appealed to every motive he could honour, loyalty to King Charles, riches, and above all, service to God.

Yet his confidence rested on something more substantial than rhetoric. His months inside the Mexica Empire had taught him lessons no European had previously understood. The Empire of the Mexica was vast, but far from united. It's strength depended upon the submission of dozens of city states, many of whom hated Mexica rule and paid tribute only because they feared the armies of Technotica. Break that fear, and the empire itself might begin to unravel. For the first time, Cortés could see a path to victory. He would not conquer Mexico with the Spaniards alone. He would conquer it with the enemies of the Mexica. With his allies secured, Cortés wasted little time. He understood that the Mexica would not simply wait behind the walls of Tenochtitlan.

Every town that remained loyal to the empire represented another source of food, another source of warriors, another obstacle to his return. His response was ruthless. Marching into the region around Tepe an Khan, the Spaniards stormed fortified hilltop settlements one after another. Resistance was crushed. The towns were sacked. Little mercy was shown. Those captured in arms were killed. Women and children were enslaved. Many were branded with the royal G, marking them as prisoners taken in what the Spaniards considered to be a Guerra justa, a just war.

Entire communities were left in ruins, fields were burned, storehouses emptied. The countryside was systematically devastated to deny the meshika supplies and to punish those who resisted. Even some of the Spaniards found the destruction unsettling. The brutality of the campaign shocked contemporaries. Spanish chroniclers also recorded another horrifying reality. Some of Cortés's indigenous allies following long established customs of ritual warfare, the butchered enemy dead after battle and on occasion consumed parts of their body. To the Spaniards, already horrified by human sacrifice, the scene was deeply disturbing.

The Cortés rarely intervened. Victory, not restraint, was his priority. By the autumn of 1520, the balance of power had shifted dramatically. As I Tenochtitlan more and more indigenous communities were abandoning the Mexica and throwing in their lot with the Spaniards. The empire was beginning to crack. Cortés now turned his attention to the file problem. Even if he could not surround the great island city, how could he conquer it?

The lake that had once made Tenochtitlan magnificent now had made it almost impregnable. If the city was a fall, the Spaniards would first have to master the water itself. So amid the mountains of central Mexico, hundreds of miles from the sea, Cortés began to build or fleet. Yet before Cortés could launch his final campaign, another army arrived. It carried no banners, no cannon, no sword, no horse. It marched unseen.

Somewhere amongst the Spaniards who had crossed from Cuba was a man infected with one of history's most deadly diseases, smallpox. Until that moment, the people of the Americas had never encountered it. They possessed no immunity, no memory of the disease, no defence against it. It began innocently enough. A fever, a pounding headache, then exhaustion. Soon the victim's skin erupted into angry red blisters. Within days they spread across the entire body.

The pustules swelled until faces became unrecognizable. Eyes sealed shut, mouths filled with sores. Many could neither eat nor drink. The agony was unbearable. Those who survived were often left scarred for life. Many more never recovered. The disease spread with terrifying speed. One household infected another. One village infected the next. Within weeks, it had reached Technocticlan. The epidemic swept through the Valley of Mexico like a wildfire. Families died together.

Fields were abandoned, markets emptied. Food ceased to arrive. The machinery of the Mexica Empire began to seize up. Among its victims was the new emperor, Qatalwak. After reigning only a matter of weeks, he too succumbed to the disease. The Spaniards, by contrast, suffered comparatively little. Most had survived smallpox during childhood and carried a degree of immunity to many indigenous communities. The contrast was impossible to ignore.

The strangers remained standing while their own people died in their thousands. Some saw the epidemic as a sign that the newcomers possessed extraordinary favour from the gods. Others simply concluded that resistance had become hopeless. More communities abandoned the Mexico. At the same time, fresh Spaniards from Cuba join Cortés, bringing much needed reinforcements, weapons and supplies. Even more importantly, thousands upon thousands of indigenous warriors now rallied to Cortés's banner.

By the spring of 1521, Cortés commanded an army unlike anything he had LED before. The Spaniards remained only a tiny minority. The majority of his soldiers were indigenous allies determined to overthrow Mexico rule. His next objective was Teshkoko. Marching along the northern side of the valley, he deliberately avoided routes where ambushes were expected. This advance was swift. Resistance collapsed before him. Teshkoko, the second great city in the Valley of Mexico and once 1 of Techno Ticlan's closest allies, fell into his hands.

The conquest was accompanied by widespread violence. neighboring settlements were sacked, palaces were burned, many defenders were killed as Spanish and indigenous allied forces swept through the region. Soon Lords from neighboring cities began arriving in Cortés's camp. Spanish chronicles portrayed them as eager to swear loyalty to King Charles the 5th and throw off the hated rule of the Mexica. Whatever their motives, the effect was unmistakable. 1 by 1, the city surrounding Tecnoticlan changed sides. The Grey Island capital was being isolated. Its roads, its food, its allies would disappear it. The death of Quatalwak brought yet another emperor to the throne.

He was young and determined and utterly unlike Moctezuma. His name was Kwa al Tecmok. Where his predecessors had sought compromise, Kwa al Tecmok chose war. Any lingering hope of negotiation banished. Several of Moctezuma's sons and nobles suspected of sympathizing with the Spaniards were executed. The message could not have been clearer. The time for diplomacy had passed. Now the Mexico prepared for a struggle to the death.

Nor were they the same enemy Cortés had first encountered 2 years before. They had learned captured Spanish swords, Lancers and crossbows, taking from the dead during the Spaniard's desperate escape from Techno Ticlan, were now turned against their former owners. The invaders were discovering what it felt to face their own weapons. Yet all traditions proved difficult to abandon. Mexico warfare had long prized the capture of enemies for sacrifice above killing them outright. On one occasion, Cortés himself was almost seized alive when a large Mexico force sprang in ambush. For a few desperate moments, it seemed the conquest might end there.

But as warriors struggled to capture rather than kill the Spanish commander Cortés for free, he escaped. Many of his men did not. The war became increasingly savage. Both sides understood that victory depended as much upon allies as upon soldiers. Cortés sought to bind more cities to his cause through promises of freedom from Mexica tribute. Those who refused often paid a terrible price. Towns were burned, harvests destroyed, prisoners enslaved.

The Mexica answered terror with terror. Communities wavering in their loyalty received grisly reminders of the consequences of betrayal. The severed heads and limbs of captured Spaniards were sent across the Valley of Mexico as an unmistakable warning to anyone tempted to side with the invaders. Meanwhile, work on Cortés's great gamble continued. Thousands of indigenous labours felled Timbers in the mountains. Others hauled enormous beams across impossible terrain.

A great canal was excavated to connect the workshop with Lake Teshkoko. Day after day, Mexica raiding parties harassed the workers. The construction sites became a battle in its own right. Yet the work never stopped. Piece by piece, hull by hull, the fleet took shape. Then, on the 28th of April 1522, the Brigantine slid into the waters of the lake. For the first time, the Spaniards processed mastery not only of the land, but of the water. Everything was down in place.

The alliances had been forged, the roads secured, the fleet complete. The greatest city in the Americas stood isolated. The final assault on Technoticlan was about to begin. The stage was set for one of history's greatest sieges. Across the waters of Lake Teshkoko, 2 worlds prepared for a final reckoning within the city, the new emperor, Kuao Tecmoc, resolved to fight until the very end. Outside it's walls, Cortés marshalled an army of Spaniards and 10s of thousands of indigenous allies. Neither side intended to yield.

The battle that followed would destroy an empire and reshape the history of an entire. Continent, thank you for listening to Ancient to recent My name is Joseph Parkinson. Next week, we will continue the story of Cortés and the conquest of Mexico. To support our work, subscribe today to receive notifications of new episodes every Saturday, available on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts.