temozin was accused of having entered
into a plot to assassinate the Spaniards, and then to return to Mexico
and rouse the whole native population to arms, and drive the invaders
from the country. There seems to have been but little proof to
substantiate the charge; but the undeniable fact that Guatemozin
could now do this, excited to the highest degree the anxiety of the
ever-wary Cortez. The stern conqueror, acting upon the principle that
the end justifies the means, resolved to escape from this peril by the
death of his imperial captive and the Tacuban lord. Cortez accused
them of the crime, and, notwithstanding their protestations of
innocence, ordered them both to be hung. A scaffold was immediately
erected, and the victims, attended by priests, were led out to their
execution. Both of these heroic men met their fate with dignity. As
the monarch stood upon the scaffold, at the moment of his doom he
turned to Cortez and said,

"I now find in what your false promises have ended. It would have been
better that I had fallen by my own hands than to have intrusted myself
in your power. Why do you thus unjustly take my life? May God demand
of you this innocent blood."

The Prince of Tacuba simply said, "I am happy to die by the side of my
lawful sovereign."

They were then both swung into the air, suspended from the branches of
a lofty tree by the road-side. There are many stains resting upon the
character of Cortez, and this is not among the least. Diaz records,
"Thus ended the lives of these two great men; and I also declare that
they suffered their deaths most undeservingly; and so it appeared to
us all, among whom there was but one opinion upon the subject, that it
was a most unjust and cruel sentence."

The march was now continued, but the gloom which ever accompanies
crime weighed heavily upon all minds. The Mexicans were indignant and
morose at the ignominious execution of their chiefs. The Spaniards
were in constant fear that they would rise against them. Even Cortez
looked haggard and wretched, and his companions thought that he was
tortured by the self-accusation that he was a murderer. Difficulties
were multiplied in his path. Famine stared his murmuring army in the
face. Sleep forsook his pillow. One night, bewildered and distracted,
he rose, and wandering in one of the heathen temples, fell over a
wall, a distance of twelve feet, bruising himself severely, and
cutting a deep gash in his head. Still they