The Expedition
Mendoza looked in awe at Cortez's entourage who sprawled behind him. He now understood why the conquistador had chosen to travel overland rather than by sea. It would simply have been impossible. Encamped on the shores of Lake Texcoco, the city-sized expedition was making final preparations for their departure. At the head of the motley group were Cortez's soldiers who included several hundred foot soldiers and half as many horsemen. Even Mendoza had been provided with a horse and armor, an expensive gift from the leader of the company. But Mendoza knew this gift was merely Cortez's way of protecting his navigator rather than from generosity. Despite their number, the soldiers were only a small part of the convoy. Several thousand Indian porters carried huge loads of powder, horseshoes, iron tools, tents, beads, and other items for trade. The porters were also cared for a string of mules and a herd of swine, which would provide food en route. To complete the strangeness of this group, Cortez was bringing his personal staff, which included a majordomo, two masters of the household, a butler, a chamberlain, two stewards one of whom was in charge of the gold and silver plate, a doctor, a surgeon, various pages, eight grooms, two falconers, five musicians, an acrobat, and a magician-puppeteer. The expedition was so large that Cortez and his army departed a full day ahead of the porters and other staff. Mendoza watched as Marina and Cortez bide farewell to their son Martin, who sadly and reluctantly allowed himself to be taken back across the causeway to the city. The conquistador then walked to his horse and prepared to lead the company out of the valley. Marina was taken to a litter that would be carried by a number of natives. The navigator's attention was then drawn to a second carriage not far from Marina's, whose bearers were very solemn and refined. Curious, Mendoza turned to an old soldier next to him, named Bernal Diaz, and asked, "Who is in that second litter?" Diaz looked past him at the rig and replied matter-of-factly, "That is Emperor Cuauhtemoc." "Emperor Cuat...who?" Mendoza said, confused. "Cuauhtemoc, the Aztec ruler," Diaz stated. "After Moctezuma's death, Cuauhtemoc lead their warriors against us until they were forced to surrender." "Why is the Governor bringing him with us?" asked the navigator. Bernal thought about the question for a moment before answering, "I believe he fears Cuauhtemoc could raise a revolt against us if he is left behind. The governor doesn't want to take that risk." ***** The expedition finally set out on a clear day in October in 1524. As they reached the summit of the pass leading out of the Valley of Mexico, Mendoza looked back at the city on the lake, then shifted to Hernan Cortez, wondering where he would lead them. ***** "Are we conquistadors or bridge builders!?" Bernal complained as he and Mendoza watched the Aztec porters fell trees, rolled them to the edge of a river, and tied them together with vines in order to span yet another waterway. As had so often happened in the past months, the expedition had encountered a broad river that could not be forded. This resulted in the building of dozens of bridges in order for the company to continue their journey. Each time they crossed a new river, the members of the convoy feared they, along with their mounts and supplies, would be washed away. The journey had been a difficult one. Since setting out from Mexico City, the explorers had met with nothing but disaster. Baggage had been lost, their supplies were quickly disappearing, and the local peoples Cortez had depended on in earlier expeditions deserted their towns and villages at the rumor of the Spaniards approach. Even worse was the 24-mile-long pass the army had transversed in the rugged Sierra de Pedernales. It had taken twelve days to navigate the mountains and cost them 68 horses, which had fallen to their deaths, while nearly all the rest had been crippled by the journey over the rocky terrain. Mendoza's own horse had received a gash that forced the navigator to walk for several weeks. The situation had become so dire that Cortez had ordered that the pigs be kept four days march behind the main column to prevent them from being eaten by the soldiers. Even when they had encountered a herd of deer, those they had killed were hardly enough to satisfy the army let alone feed those who accompanied them. As Mendoza watched the porter's efforts, he thought of the time he was on the Pacific with Magellan when supplies had been as low as they were now. Then he had been surrounded by a wasteland of water, hoping to find an island on the horizon. Now he was encircled by lush jungle yet there was little growing within reach save orchids. In the contrasting the circumstances he could still not decide which situation was worse. The work continued on the bridge as the sun sank to the horizon. The porters would have little rest that night. At dusk, a messenger from the governor found Mendoza, forcing him to leave the company of old Bernal and go to Cortez's tent. Marina was waiting just outside and ushered him in with an unwelcome whisper of, "He is not pleased!" Mendoza braced himself as Cortez glanced in his direction and said, "We are impeded by yet another river, señor Mendoza. I was under the impression that the job of a navigator was to guide his charges to their destination by the most expedient route possible." "It is," Mendoza replied, meeting the conquistador's gaze, "but a navigator is not clairvoyant. He cannot know the terrain of an unmapped country." "Then of what use is he," Cortez said dangerously. "At the least, he can guide an expedition from its origin to its destination without losing the way," was Mendoza's steady reply. Cortez looked at him sharply. "I could do that," he said coldly and he pushed past the navigator, exiting the tent to supervise the continued work on the bridge. Mendoza sighed and sank into a chair. Marina came up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders. "He wants the impossible," Mendoza told her angrily. "He often does," Marina replied soothingly. "I have the feeling that I am fast becoming expendable," the young Spaniard went on. "Not yet," was Marina's replied. "What I need is to find an inhabited village," Mendoza said vehemently. "If I could talk to its people, I believe I could find or make a map of the region." He glanced behind him at his companion, took her hand, and pulled around so he could look directly at her. "Marina I need your help." She sighed and shook her head, "I was very young when I last saw this country. My memory may not be reliable." Mendoza stood, her hands firmly grasped in his. "I trust your judgment." Marina smiled at his words.
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