11. Heroes and Villains of the Age of Exploration: The Journey of Hernan Cortés and the Fall of the Aztec Empire

My Name is Hernán Cortés: Spanish Conquistador and Governor of New Spain

I was born in 1485 in the small town of Medellín, in the province of Extremadura, Spain. My family was of minor nobility, but we were far from wealthy. As a boy, I was restless and curious, eager to see the wider world. I studied briefly at the University of Salamanca, but books and lectures could not hold me for long. The lure of adventure and fortune drew me away from the classroom toward the distant shores of the New World.

First Steps in the New World

In 1504, at the age of nineteen, I sailed to Hispaniola, the Spanish base in the Caribbean. There, I worked on plantations and learned how Spanish colonies were run. My ambition drove me to Cuba in 1511, where I served under Governor Diego Velázquez. I gained wealth and influence, but more importantly, I learned how alliances, trade, and force could be woven together to control new lands.

The Mexico Expedition

In 1519, Velázquez ordered me to lead an expedition to explore and secure the mainland of Mexico. Tensions between us rose, and when he tried to recall me, I ignored his orders. I landed on the coast of Veracruz with my men, determined to claim new territory for Spain and for myself. I made alliances with Totonac and Tlaxcalan peoples, enemies of the Aztecs, and marched inland toward the great city of Tenochtitlan.

Meeting Moctezuma IIWhen we reached the Aztec capital, I met Emperor Moctezuma II. He welcomed us with gifts and hospitality, though I knew he was watching us carefully. I saw a city more magnificent than any in Europe, with temples, markets, and canals. Yet I also saw an empire held together by tribute and fear, surrounded by enemies. I took Moctezuma under my “protection,” a move that secured my position but deepened the tensions.

War and the Fall of TenochtitlanOur position in Tenochtitlan was shattered when fighting broke out, forcing us to retreat during the night now called La Noche Triste. We returned months later with thousands of indigenous allies and laid siege to the city. Starvation, disease, and relentless assault broke the Aztec resistance. In August 1521, Tenochtitlan fell, and with it, the Aztec Empire.

Governor of New SpainAfter the conquest, I became Governor and Captain General of New Spain. I oversaw the building of Mexico City atop the ruins of Tenochtitlan, the spread of Christianity, and the organization of the encomienda system. Yet I faced rivals, political enemies, and inquiries from the Spanish Crown. I returned to Spain to defend my actions, but my influence waned in my later years.

LegacyI have been called a hero, a traitor, a genius, and a destroyer. My conquest changed the course of history, bringing Spain immense wealth and reshaping the Americas forever. I lived for glory and power, but I also witnessed the cost of conquest—cities burned, peoples scattered, and a world forever altered by the meeting of two civilizations.

How I Came to Explore Further in the New World – Told by Hernán Cortés

I first set foot in the Americas in 1504, a young man of nineteen eager for fortune and adventure. I sailed to Hispaniola, the heart of Spain’s colonies, where I began to learn the ways of life in these distant lands. I worked on plantations, took part in minor expeditions, and studied the art of survival in a place where opportunities were earned by skill, courage, and the favor of powerful men.

Service in Cuba

In 1511, I joined Diego Velázquez on his expedition to Cuba. There, I served as a soldier and later as a notary, gaining not just land and wealth but also experience in politics and leadership. I learned how alliances could be forged through promises and marriages, and how the Spanish presence relied on both strength and negotiation. My position in Cuba gave me influence, but I longed for something greater than governing farmland or serving under another man’s orders.

Rumors of the Mainland

By the late 1510s, rumors spread of vast lands to the west—rich in gold, filled with cities, and ruled by powerful leaders. Small expeditions along the Yucatán coast had returned with tales of advanced civilizations and strange treasures. I knew that whoever could claim these lands for Spain would win lasting glory. When Velázquez began planning a larger mission to explore and secure the mainland, I positioned myself to lead it.

A Clash with Velázquez

Though Velázquez trusted me at first, he soon grew wary of my ambition. Just before I was to sail, he tried to revoke my commission. I chose to ignore his orders, believing that the greater service to Spain—and to my own fortune—was to push forward. Gathering my men and supplies quickly, I set sail before Velázquez could stop me.

The Landing at Veracruz

In early 1519, we landed on the coast of what would later be called Mexico. The place was strange and full of promise, with powerful city-states nearby and the influence of a great empire stretching across the land. It was there, on those shores, that I founded the settlement of Veracruz and secured my authority in the name of the Spanish Crown. My path from a restless youth in Spain to a leader on the brink of conquest had reached its turning point, and the journey into the heart of Mexico had begun.

My Name is Moctezuma II: Huey Tlatoani of the Aztec Empire

Early Life and Education

I was born around 1466 in Tenochtitlan, the heart of the Aztec Empire. My family was of noble blood, and from a young age, I was taught the ways of leadership, religion, and war. I studied the sacred codices, learned our rituals, and trained as a warrior. My destiny was shaped by the gods and the weight of my lineage, for I was chosen to serve not just as a ruler, but as the living embodiment of our people’s will.

Rise to Power

I ascended to the throne in 1502 after the death of my uncle, Ahuitzotl. As Huey Tlatoani, or Great Speaker, I commanded armies, presided over religious ceremonies, and oversaw the tribute system that sustained our empire. My reign began with expansion. Our armies pushed into new territories, and the treasures of gold, cacao, and feathers flowed into Tenochtitlan. The city flourished, its markets alive with goods from every corner of the land.

The First Rumors of Strangers

In the years before the Spaniards arrived, strange omens appeared in the skies and in the temples. Comets burned the heavens, temples caught fire without cause, and the waters of the lake boiled. Our priests spoke of prophecies—of gods returning from the east. When I first heard of pale-skinned strangers with metal weapons arriving on the coast, I wondered if these were the messengers of fate our ancestors had foretold.

Meeting Hernán Cortés

When Hernán Cortés and his men marched toward Tenochtitlan, I sent gifts to honor them, hoping to learn their true nature. When we finally met in 1519, I welcomed him with ceremony and respect. I sought to maintain peace, for war would bring great suffering to my people. Yet I also knew that these strangers were unlike any enemy we had faced before, and their ambitions were dangerous.

Captivity and Conflict

In my own palace, I found myself a prisoner. Cortés claimed to protect me, but his men controlled my movements. The people grew restless, their anger rising against the foreigners. When fighting erupted, I attempted to speak to my subjects to calm them. Stones were thrown, and I was struck. Whether by my own people’s hands or by Spanish treachery, I was mortally wounded. My death came in the year 1520, as the city’s fate hung in the balance.

Legacy

History remembers me in many ways—some call me cautious, others accuse me of weakness. But I ruled in a time of prophecy and uncertainty, when the very gods seemed to speak through the winds of change. My life was devoted to preserving my people and our sacred traditions. I faced a world transformed by forces beyond imagining, and though my empire fell, the memory of Tenochtitlan’s greatness endures.

The Aztec Empire Before the Spanish Arrival – Told by Moctezuma II

Before the year 1519, our empire stood as the most powerful force in the Valley of Mexico. At its heart was Tenochtitlan, the jewel of the lake, built on islands and connected to the mainland by great causeways. Our government was led by the Huey Tlatoani, the Great Speaker, chosen by a council of nobles from the ruling families. I, Moctezuma, held that position, serving as both the political leader and the highest representative of our gods. Beneath me were the noble class, priests, warriors, and merchants, each with duties that kept the empire strong.

Our religion touched every part of life. We honored many gods—Huitzilopochtli, the god of the sun and war; Tlaloc, the god of rain; and Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent of wisdom and wind. Temples rose above the city, where priests offered sacrifices to maintain the balance of the universe. These acts were not mere rituals, but essential to the very survival of our world, for we believed the gods had given their blood to create it, and we must repay that debt.

Trade flowed through the great market of Tlatelolco, where thousands gathered daily. Merchants brought cacao from the south, obsidian blades from the highlands, fine cotton from distant provinces, and gold from the far reaches of the empire. Our tribute system ensured that goods and resources from conquered territories reached the capital, sustaining our wealth and power. Tribute also strengthened our control, for cities that resisted would face the might of our armies.

Politically, our empire was vast but not without tension. Many city-states had been brought under Aztec rule by force, and their loyalty was secured through fear of our armies. While they paid tribute and sent warriors for our campaigns, some resented our dominance. Still, the triple alliance between Tenochtitlan, Texcoco, and Tlacopan kept our position secure, and our military strength discouraged open rebellion.

In those days, I believed our empire would endure for generations. Our cities were strong, our armies undefeated, and our gods with us. Yet the world was already shifting, and from beyond the eastern horizon, a new power was coming—one that even the might of the Aztec Empire had never faced before.

My Name is La Malinche: Interpreter, Diplomat, and Cultural Bridge

I was born around 1500 in a Nahua-speaking village near the borders of the Aztec Empire. My family was of noble rank, but my life changed when my father died and my mother remarried. To secure my half-brother’s inheritance, I was given away—some say sold, others say traded—to merchants who later handed me to the Maya of Tabasco. In that moment, I lost my home, my family, and my name, taking on a life shaped by survival.

Life Among the Maya

In Tabasco, I learned the Maya language and ways, adapting to a new culture. I lived as a slave, but I listened carefully, watched closely, and kept my wits sharp. I did not know it then, but this knowledge of two languages—my native Nahuatl and the Maya tongue—would one day change the course of history.

Meeting Hernán Cortés

When the Spaniards defeated the Maya of Tabasco in 1519, I was among the women given to them as part of the tribute. At first, I was simply another gift, but they soon discovered I could speak Nahuatl. With the help of a Spanish priest who knew Maya, I became the bridge between Cortés and the rulers of the land. My role was no longer just to survive—it was to interpret words, intentions, and cultures.

Between Two Worlds

As we traveled deeper into the land of the Mexica, I translated not only language but meaning. I warned Cortés of dangers, carried messages, and brokered alliances with those who opposed the Aztecs. Some saw me as a traitor, others as a savior. I walked a line between two worlds, knowing that my actions could decide whether peace or war followed each meeting.

The Fall of Tenochtitlan

During the siege and eventual fall of Tenochtitlan, I remained at Cortés’s side, speaking to leaders and messengers, helping him navigate the politics of a land he did not understand. I saw the city starve, its people fall to disease, and the old order crumble. My words, shaped in the moment, became part of the foundation of the new Spanish rule.

Life After the Conquest

After the war, I bore a son to Cortés, Martín, one of the first children of both Spanish and indigenous blood. Later, I married a Spanish nobleman and had another child. My role in the conquest made me a symbol—of betrayal to some, of adaptation to others. I was a woman who had no choice but to act in the moment, making decisions that balanced survival, loyalty, and necessity.

Legacy

History calls me many names: traitor, heroine, mother of a new people. I see myself as someone who lived between two worlds and tried to master both. My voice shaped the path of an empire, though it was rarely my own destiny I followed. My story is the story of a world transformed, for better and for worse, by the meeting of two civilizations.

Aztec Expansionism Before the Spanish – Told by La Malinche

Before the Spaniards ever set foot on the shores of Mexico, the Aztec Empire had already risen to power through conquest. From their capital at Tenochtitlan, they extended their reach across the Valley of Mexico and far beyond, subduing city-states through war and intimidation. The Aztecs were skilled warriors, feared for their discipline and for the swiftness of their campaigns. Those who resisted were met with destruction, their leaders slain or taken captive, their people forced to serve the empire.

The heart of Aztec power was the tribute system. Once a city-state was conquered, it was bound to deliver goods regularly to Tenochtitlan—cotton, cacao, maize, feathers, gold, and laborers. The demands were heavy, and failure to meet them could mean renewed war. The tribute was not simply a tax; it was a reminder of who held dominance. The burden fell most heavily on the smaller tribes, whose resources were drained to feed the wealth and splendor of the capital.

Cruelty was not absent from this rule. Captives taken in war were often sacrificed to the gods, their deaths offered as proof of the empire’s strength. Entire communities lived under the shadow of fear, knowing that if they defied Aztec demands, the armies would return, and the punishment would be severe. Some cities surrendered without a fight just to avoid such suffering.

This harsh system bred deep resentment. Many smaller tribes longed for freedom from Aztec control but lacked the power to stand against them. They waited for an opportunity, and when the Spaniards arrived with their strange weapons and horses, these tribes saw a chance. The Spanish spoke of alliances and promised to fight against Tenochtitlan, and many indigenous peoples joined them—not out of loyalty to the newcomers, but out of hatred for the empire that had ruled them with such heavy hands.

I saw this anger myself as we traveled through these lands. Village elders spoke of decades of oppression, of children taken for sacrifice, of tribute that left their stores empty. The Spanish conquest did not begin with Spanish swords—it began with the wounds the Aztecs had inflicted on their neighbors, wounds that made alliances against them possible.

The Role I Played and Cross-Cultural Communication – Told by La Malinche

Before I met Hernán Cortés, my life had already crossed many boundaries. I was born around 1500 to a noble Nahua family near the borders of the Aztec Empire. When my father died, my mother remarried and sought to secure her new son’s inheritance. I was given away—some say sold—to traders, who later handed me over to the Maya of Tabasco. There, I learned their language and customs, adapting to survive in a world far from my birthplace. I carried with me my native Nahuatl, and soon, I could speak Maya as if I had been born to it.

In 1519, after the Spaniards defeated the Maya of Tabasco, I was among the women given to them as tribute. At first, I was just another prize of war, but my value became clear when they realized I could speak Nahuatl. A Spanish priest in their company, Jerónimo de Aguilar, spoke Maya but not Nahuatl. Together, we formed a bridge—he translated Spanish into Maya, and I translated Maya into Nahuatl. In this way, the Spaniards could finally speak to the rulers and people of the land.

My role quickly became more than just words. I came to understand both Spanish intentions and indigenous concerns, and I could shape the messages I delivered to build trust or warn of danger. I explained Spanish customs to the native leaders and described local traditions to Cortés. Many times, I carried delicate messages that could decide whether there would be peace or war in the next town we entered.

As we traveled deeper into the heart of the Aztec world, my presence helped open doors to alliances. I could speak directly to leaders of tribes who resented Aztec rule, explaining that the Spaniards could be their allies against Tenochtitlan. These conversations were not simply about politics—they were about survival, identity, and finding common ground between two worlds that had never before met.

Through my voice, I connected cultures that had no shared language. I did not control the events that followed, but I shaped them in ways that might not have been possible without understanding both sides. My role as interpreter was more than translation—it was the weaving together of different worlds in a time of extraordinary change.

Women’s Roles in the Conquest – Told by La Malinche

Though my name is often remembered in the telling of the conquest, I was not the only woman whose presence shaped those years. Many women, both indigenous and Spanish, played vital roles in ways that were less recorded but deeply felt. They influenced diplomacy, eased tensions, carried messages, and preserved the daily life of those marching through a land torn by war.

Among the indigenous women were noble daughters given in alliance to Spanish leaders. These women were more than gifts; they were political bonds, linking the Spaniards to powerful local families. Through marriage or companionship, they brought information, resources, and legitimacy to these fragile alliances. Their ability to navigate both their own traditions and the foreign customs of the Spaniards gave them a quiet but powerful influence.

The Spanish women, though fewer in number, also had their place. Some were wives of conquistadors who came later, bringing stability to settlements and enforcing Spanish social structures. They managed households, oversaw servants, and upheld the honor and reputation of their families in a land far from Spain. In moments of unrest, their presence reminded the men that they were not only conquerors but founders of new communities.

Enslaved women, both indigenous and African, bore the harshest burdens. They worked in the kitchens, tended the wounded, carried supplies, and served in whatever role their masters demanded. Yet even they found ways to shape events—passing along information, sharing knowledge of local foods and medicines, and keeping the camps functioning during long campaigns.

All these women lived at the edges of the official histories, yet without them, the conquest would have been a poorer, harsher, and far less connected endeavor. My own voice was only one among many, each carrying pieces of culture, knowledge, and endurance that bound together the worlds of Spain and the peoples of these lands.

My Name is Bernal Díaz del Castillo: Spanish Soldier & Chronicler of the Conquest

I was born around 1492 in Medina del Campo, a bustling market town in Spain. My family was of modest means, and my youth was spent among merchants, travelers, and soldiers who filled the streets with tales of distant lands. I grew up hearing of Columbus’s voyages and the riches of the Indies. The call of adventure and the hope for fortune drove me to sail for the New World while still a young man.

First Voyages to the Americas

I arrived in Cuba after earlier attempts to join expeditions brought me little success. Life in the colonies was hard, but the promise of gold and land kept me from returning home. I fought in small campaigns against native resistance, gaining experience as a soldier in unfamiliar terrain. Yet it was in 1519 that I joined the venture that would define my life—Hernán Cortés’s expedition to Mexico.

The March to Tenochtitlan

From the moment we landed at Veracruz, I saw the conquest unfold not just in battles, but in alliances and negotiations. We faced fierce fighting at Potonchan, Cholula, and along the road to the Aztec capital. I marched with men who had little more than our swords, our muskets, and our faith in victory. We witnessed cities filled with markets richer than any in Spain, and we fought enemies whose courage I will never forget.

Witness to History

I stood in Tenochtitlan when we first entered its streets, marveling at its canals, temples, and palaces. I saw the uneasy friendship between Cortés and Moctezuma and the tensions that boiled beneath the surface. I was there when the city erupted in violence, when we fled in the night and left so many dead in the waters and streets, and when we returned to bring the city under siege until it fell.

Life After the Conquest

When the war ended, we thought wealth would follow. For some, it did. But many of us common soldiers received little compared to our labors and sacrifices. I settled in Guatemala, serving as a landowner and official, building a life far from the great battles of my youth. Yet I could not let the truth of what happened fade into silence.

Writing My True History

Years later, I took up the pen to write The True History of the Conquest of New Spain. I wrote not as a scholar, but as a man who had been there, whose eyes had seen every step of the march, every fight, every hardship. I sought to correct the records written by others, including Cortés himself, for I believed that the men who bore the brunt of the struggle deserved to be remembered.

Legacy

I am remembered as both a soldier and a witness. My words carry the dust of the roads, the cries of battle, and the sights of a world forever changed. I told the story as I lived it—not to glorify myself, but to make sure that those who fought beside me, Spaniard and native alike, would not be forgotten.

Cortés’s Rivalries with Other Spaniards – Told by Bernal Díaz del Castillo

From the moment we set sail from Cuba, we carried not only the weight of our mission but also the shadow of bitter rivalries. Hernán Cortés had once served under Governor Diego Velázquez, but their relationship soured when Velázquez began to fear that Cortés’s ambition might outshine his own. Orders to halt the expedition were sent, but Cortés pressed forward, determined to claim new lands before Velázquez could stop him. This defiance set the tone for all that followed.

Leadership Worked to Stop Cortés

While we marched deeper into the lands of the Mexica, Velázquez worked from Cuba to undermine us. His chance came in 1520 when he sent Pánfilo de Narváez with a fleet of ships, soldiers, and orders to arrest Cortés. Narváez arrived on the coast, boasting of his strength and promising rich rewards to those who would abandon Cortés. Some were tempted, but Cortés acted swiftly. Leaving part of our force in Tenochtitlan, he marched to meet Narváez at Cempoala, and in a single night assault, we overwhelmed his camp. Narváez was captured, and his men joined us, swelling our ranks at a crucial time.

Continuous Rivalry

Yet the rivalries did not end there. Spanish political intrigue followed us across the sea. Every victory brought new claims, counterclaims, and accusations before the Crown. Velázquez’s allies painted Cortés as a rebel who defied royal authority, while Cortés argued that his actions had won vast territories for Spain. We soldiers were caught in the middle, wondering if our service would earn us reward or ruin.

These divisions among Spaniards shaped the conquest as much as any battle. Resources were wasted in feuds, loyalties were tested, and trust was always in short supply. I saw clearly that the greatest threats we faced did not always come from the Aztec warriors before us, but from the rival Spaniards who sailed under the same flag yet fought for their own glory.

Cortés’s March to Tenochtitlan – Told by Bernal Díaz del Castillo

When we first landed on the coast at Veracruz in 1519, none of us could fully imagine the journey ahead. The march to the Aztec capital was not a straight path but a winding road through strange lands, fierce battles, and fragile alliances. Every step brought new challenges, and every alliance we forged was a gamble.

Finding New Friends and Forces

Our first friends were the Totonacs, a people weary of Aztec demands for tribute. They welcomed us cautiously, offering food and guides, and in return, Cortés promised them freedom from Tenochtitlan’s reach. This alliance gave us both supplies and valuable insight into the Aztec tribute system, which bound so many towns in resentment.

Further inland, we met the Tlaxcalans, fierce warriors who at first saw us as invaders. The battles with them were some of the hardest we fought, lasting days and costing many lives on both sides. Yet in the end, the Tlaxcalans saw the opportunity in our cause. They had resisted the Aztecs for generations and were eager for a chance to end their enemy’s dominance. From that moment, they became our strongest indigenous allies, providing thousands of warriors who would march with us to the very gates of Tenochtitlan.

Some Setbacks

Not all encounters went so well. In Cholula, we faced a plot against us, and the response was brutal. Whether out of necessity or fear, Cortés acted swiftly, and the city paid dearly. It was a harsh warning to others who might consider betrayal, and it showed our allies that we would not hesitate to strike hard if threatened.

The Hardship of the Travel

The journey tested us in every way. The mountains were cold and steep, food was often scarce, and every village brought uncertainty—would they greet us with open hands or drawn weapons? Yet the growing army that moved beside us, made up of Spaniards and thousands of indigenous warriors, gave us strength. By the time we descended from the highlands and saw Tenochtitlan shining on the lake, we knew that this campaign had already been shaped by the alliances we had forged along the way. Without them, we would never have reached the city at all.

First Meeting Between Cortés and Moctezuma – Told by Cortés and Moctezuma

Cortés: Arrival at the Gates

When we approached the causeway leading into Tenochtitlan in November of 1519, I felt both triumph and caution. The city rose from the lake like a vision, its temples and palaces gleaming in the sun. Moctezuma came toward us with a procession of nobles, his bearing dignified, his robes rich with gold and feathers. I dismounted to greet him, for I wished to show respect without appearing weak. I presented him with a necklace of glass beads and gold, speaking of friendship and alliance. My intention was clear—to gain his trust, learn the strengths and weaknesses of his empire, and secure the city without unnecessary destruction.

Moctezuma: A Meeting of Worlds

As I walked to meet the strangers, I carried the weight of my empire and the words of prophecy. I had heard of their weapons, their horses, and their strange appearance. I welcomed them with honor, offering a garland and precious ornaments, for in our ways, hospitality showed strength. Yet I measured every word, every gesture. Were these men gods returned, or conquerors cloaked in politeness? I wished to keep the peace, for open conflict could bring ruin to my people, but I also sought to understand their true purpose.

Cortés: Diplomacy and Calculation

In our first words, I spoke through my interpreter, Doña Marina, praising his city and his leadership. I told him of my king across the sea, of the great friendship Spain offered, and the desire to share our faith and knowledge. Yet behind the courteous words, I studied his expressions and the reactions of his lords. I needed to know how firm his control was, and how deep the loyalty of his allies and subjects ran.

Moctezuma: The Balancing of Power

I listened to his words, which came layered with promises and intentions I could not fully trust. My empire was vast but not without unrest. Many of the peoples under our rule despised the tribute they paid, and I feared these newcomers might stir that resentment. Still, I invited them into the city, for to refuse might show fear and provoke aggression. I would watch them closely, host them with honor, and seek to learn their plans before they learned too much of ours.

Cortés and Moctezuma: A Careful Exchange

Our meeting was a performance as much as a greeting. We exchanged gifts, spoke of friendship, and smiled with courtesy, yet both of us measured the other with suspicion. To the people watching, it was a moment of peace between two powerful leaders. To us, it was the first move in a game where trust was a mask, and the true contest lay ahead.

Religion and Prophecy in the Conquest – Told by Moctezuma II

In my time as Huey Tlatoani, our lives were guided by the will of the gods. Every victory in battle, every harvest, every change in the winds was tied to the balance we maintained through worship and sacrifice. The gods had given their blood to create our world, and it was our duty to repay them. Our priests read the sacred calendars, watched the stars, and performed the rites that kept the sun moving across the sky. Without their guidance, we believed chaos would overtake the earth.

Omens in the Years Before

Long before the strangers arrived, signs began to appear that troubled my heart. A column of fire burned in the night sky. The temple of Huitzilopochtli caught fire without cause. The waters of the lake boiled, and strange voices were heard crying in the dark. Our priests spoke of these as warnings, but the meaning was uncertain. Some said they foretold the return of a god, perhaps Quetzalcoatl, who had departed long ago to the east. Others feared they were signs of doom, sent to test the strength of our rule.

The Arrival of Strangers

When word came of pale-skinned men with thunderous weapons landing on our shores, I could not ignore the connection to the prophecies. They came from the east, the direction of Quetzalcoatl’s promised return. Their appearance and their beasts of burden were unlike anything we had known. To act too quickly against them risked offending a god if indeed they were divine; to act too slowly risked allowing an enemy to grow strong. My decisions were weighed against this uncertainty.

Influence on Diplomacy

Because of our beliefs, I chose a path of caution and respect in the early encounters. I sent gifts of gold and fine cloth to show honor, but also to learn more about them. I welcomed Cortés into Tenochtitlan with ceremony, for I hoped to see if his actions matched the prophecy. Some say I was too hesitant, but in our tradition, to strike at a god or a divine messenger was unthinkable without clear proof of mortal nature.

The Burden of Faith

My choices were shaped not only by strategy but by the weight of the sacred stories passed down through generations. In a world where the gods walked among us in disguise, the line between reverence and danger was thin. In those first days, I sought to preserve the favor of the gods and the safety of my people, not knowing that these strangers brought with them a fate no prophecy had fully prepared us for.

The Siege and Fall of Tenochtitlan – Told by Bernal Diaz del Castillo

Cortés Called Away

When we first entered Tenochtitlan, we held Moctezuma under what we called our protection, but tensions simmered. Then word came that Pánfilo de Narváez had landed on the coast with orders from Governor Velázquez to arrest Cortés. Leaving a garrison in the city under Pedro de Alvarado, Cortés marched to meet Narváez. In a swift night attack at Cempoala, we defeated him and took his men into our ranks. But while Cortés was away, disaster struck in Tenochtitlan.

The Outbreak of War

During the festival of Tóxcatl, Alvarado feared an uprising and struck first, killing many unarmed celebrants in the sacred precinct. This act enraged the city, and by the time Cortés returned, we were surrounded and under constant attack. Moctezuma tried to speak to his people from the palace walls, but stones struck him down. Whether he died by their hands or otherwise, his death ended any chance of peaceful settlement. We had no choice but to fight our way out.

Retreat and ReturnOur retreat, now called La Noche Triste, was a nightmare. We tried to escape by night along the causeways, but the Aztecs attacked from canoes and the banks, and many of our men drowned under the weight of gold they carried. Those of us who survived regrouped in Tlaxcala, our strongest allies, and began to plan our return. We built brigantines to control the waters of the lake, knowing the city could only be taken if we cut off its lifelines.

The Siege BeginsIn May 1521, we returned with thousands of Tlaxcalan and other native warriors, along with our ships. Our strategy was to sever the city’s supply lines, destroy its causeways, and block all access to food and fresh water. The brigantines patrolled the lake, intercepting canoes carrying supplies, while we advanced along the causeways, dismantling defenses as we went.

Starvation and DiseaseInside Tenochtitlan, the people suffered terribly. Starvation set in, and the stench of death filled the air. Smallpox had already struck the city months earlier, killing many, including the new ruler Cuitláhuac. With so many dead or weakened, resistance became desperate rather than organized. Yet the Aztecs fought fiercely to the last, defending each street, each canal, each bridge.

The Final AssaultAfter nearly three months of siege, we pressed into the city center. The fighting was brutal, hand to hand, over the bodies of the fallen. By August 13, 1521, Cuauhtémoc, the last emperor, was captured as he tried to flee by canoe. The city lay in ruins, its temples burned, its people dead or enslaved. The greatest city I had ever seen was reduced to rubble, and with it, the Aztec Empire came to an end.

Cannibalism, Human Sacrifice, and Morality Debates – By Cortés and Moctezuma

Cortés: A Shock to the Spanish Eye

When we first entered the temples of Tenochtitlan, we were struck by the grandeur of the buildings—and the horrors we believed we found inside. I saw altars stained with blood, and our men heard accounts of captives whose hearts had been cut out as offerings to the gods. Some even claimed that parts of the bodies were cooked and eaten in ritual feasts. Whether this was common or symbolic, it became one of the charges we leveled against the Aztec people. For us, these acts were proof that our mission was not just conquest, but the ending of a barbarous practice.

Moctezuma: A Sacred Duty Misunderstood

From our view, these were not acts of cruelty for cruelty’s sake, but offerings of life to sustain the gods who gave us the world. The heart, full of blood and strength, was the most sacred gift we could return. As for the eating of human flesh, this was not a feast of gluttony but a rare and deeply symbolic act, usually reserved for warriors who had shown great valor. It was not done for hunger but to honor both the fallen and the gods. I understand that to the Spanish this seemed monstrous, but in our culture it was a cycle of life, death, and divine balance.

Cortés: A Tool for Justifying War

Whether it was frequent or rare, we used these accounts to rally our men and to justify our cause to the Crown. We told Spain that we fought to end the killing of innocents and the defiling of the human body. It served us well as a banner of moral righteousness, though I will admit it also served the ambition of empire.

Moctezuma: A Weapon Against My People

The Spanish spoke of these rites as if they were the whole of our identity, ignoring our laws, our markets, our learning, and our governance. These stories of sacrifice and flesh-eating were repeated until they became the only image outsiders saw of us. They were used to convince our enemies and even our own subjects that we were less than human, making it easier for them to join the Spaniards against us.

A Clash of Worlds

In truth, this debate was never only about morality. It was about power and the right to rule. To the Spanish, our rites proved their divine mission to replace our gods with theirs. To us, they were proof of our devotion and the order of the cosmos. In the end, the swords of Spain and the alliances with our enemies ended these rituals, but the memory of them became a weapon wielded long after the war was over.

Smallpox and the Impact of Disease – Told by La Malinche

I remember the first whispers of the sickness. It began quietly, in villages far from the front lines of war. People spoke of a rash that turned into painful sores, of fever that burned and left the body too weak to move. At first, I did not understand how it had come, but I soon learned it traveled with the Spaniards—an invisible enemy carried across the sea. It spared the men from Spain, but it struck the people of these lands without mercy.

The Spread Through the Land

Once smallpox reached a community, it spread faster than any army could march. Warriors fell before they could take up their weapons. Priests, leaders, and entire families were gone within days. Villages that had once been strong and proud became silent, their homes empty, their fields untended. Even great cities like Tenochtitlan were not safe. It struck the capital before the final siege, killing thousands, including Cuitláhuac, the emperor who had taken the throne after Moctezuma’s death.

The Change in the Balance of Power

The sickness did what years of warfare could not—it broke the strength of the Aztec Empire from within. When Cortés returned with his allies to lay siege to Tenochtitlan, many defenders were already weakened or gone. The allies we had gathered among the smaller tribes saw their chance to push against the Aztecs, knowing the sickness had left them vulnerable. The balance of power shifted, not because of swords or cannons alone, but because disease had already opened the gates.

The Sorrow That Followed

I saw the grief in the faces of the survivors. They could not fight, they could not flee, and they could not protect their children from something they could not see or understand. To watch a people lose not only a war but entire generations to a sickness was a wound deeper than any blade could give. The conquest was not won by strength alone—it was carried on the breath of a disease that left the land forever changed.

The Role of Indigenous Allies Beyond Tlaxcala – Told by La Malinche

When we landed at Veracruz, the first people to welcome us were the Totonacs. They were tired of paying tribute to the Aztecs and saw in the Spaniards a chance for freedom. They gave us food, guides, and warriors, and they showed us the routes inland. Their knowledge of the land and their willingness to defy the Aztec tribute collectors gave Cortés the first foothold he needed. Without them, we would have faced the long road to the capital alone.

The Huexotzincas’ Willing Hands

Further along our march, we met the Huexotzincas, who also bore resentment toward the Aztec Empire. They offered not only warriors but supplies and shelter for the Spanish and our growing native army. Their warriors fought bravely in several battles, proving themselves in both open combat and in the hard work of building fortifications. These contributions did not make their names as famous as Tlaxcala’s, but their efforts were just as vital.

The Otomi Fighters

The Otomi were fierce warriors known for their skill and courage. Some had served under the Aztecs, while others opposed them. When they joined us, they brought valuable knowledge of Aztec tactics and ways to counter them. Their presence on the battlefield strengthened the coalition and reminded all of us that this war was not a simple struggle between two nations—it was a chance for many peoples to break the empire’s grip.

A War of Many Nations

When people tell the story of the conquest, they often speak as if it was only Spaniards against the Aztecs. In truth, it was a war fought by a coalition of many nations, each with its own reasons for fighting. I saw how old grudges, long memories of tribute, and the promise of a new order brought these peoples together. Without the Totonacs, the Huexotzincas, the Otomi, and others, the Spanish could never have surrounded Tenochtitlan, much less taken it. This was not the victory of one army but the combined force of many who sought to change the world they lived in.

Economic Motivations and Greed – Told by Bernal Diaz del Castillo

From the first days we landed on the coast, gold was in our minds. Stories of the riches of Tenochtitlan traveled faster than we marched, and each small gift of gold from Moctezuma only sharpened our hunger for more. We told ourselves that we fought for God and King, but many among us dreamed most of what the weight of gold could buy in Spain. Even Cortés, for all his talk of honor and empire, understood that the promise of treasure kept men loyal and willing to risk their lives.

Disobedience for the Sake of Loot

I saw men break orders to search for gold in captured towns, and some even tried to hide their share from the common division. There were moments when the desire for loot threatened to ruin the whole campaign. During our retreat on La Noche Triste, many drowned not because the enemy’s spears struck them, but because they carried too much gold in their packs to swim. It was a lesson we learned too late—greed could kill as surely as a sword.

The Aztec Desire for Tribute

Yet we were not alone in this hunger for wealth. The Aztec Empire had built its strength on tribute taken from the cities and villages under its control. Cacao, cotton, jade, gold, and even laborers flowed into Tenochtitlan from every corner of their domain. Many of those we called allies joined us because they were tired of feeding the capital’s endless demands. The Aztec rulers demanded as much from their subjects as any Spanish king might dream of, and their greed bred the resentment we later turned to our advantage.

Two Kinds of Greed

In the end, I cannot deny that greed drove both sides of the war. The Aztecs fought to protect the flow of tribute that sustained their empire, and we fought with the hope of filling our chests with gold and silver. We told ourselves our cause was nobler, but on the battlefield, the glint of treasure could stir a man’s heart as much as any talk of glory or faith. This truth is not often told in the heroic tales, but I lived it, and I know it well.

Spanish Colonial Ambitions and the Aftermath of the Conquest – Told by Cortés

When Tenochtitlan fell, our work was far from over. The city lay in ruins, but its location and resources made it the perfect heart for the new Spanish dominion. We rebuilt it as Mexico City, placing Spanish houses, churches, and government buildings over the foundations of the old empire. Streets were laid in the Spanish style, and the great temples of the Mexica were replaced with cathedrals. From this city, I intended to govern a land that stretched far beyond the Valley of Mexico.

The Encomienda System

To reward the soldiers and secure control, we established the encomienda system. In this arrangement, land and the people living on it were granted to Spanish settlers. In return, the encomenderos were expected to provide protection, instruction in the Christian faith, and guidance in Spanish ways. In truth, the system often became a means of extracting tribute and labor from the native people. Crops, gold, and silver flowed from these lands to the hands of the colonists and, ultimately, across the sea to Spain.

The Role of New Spain in the Empire

New Spain quickly became a vital part of the Spanish Empire. Its fertile lands produced maize, cacao, and cotton, while its mountains yielded silver and other precious metals. The port of Veracruz connected the colony to the rest of the empire, sending wealth to the Spanish Crown and bringing in goods and settlers from Europe. Mexico City grew into a center of trade, religion, and administration, its influence stretching north into new territories and south into Central America.

My Vision and My Decline

I had imagined myself the leader of a great and lasting realm, loyal to the Crown but shaped by my hand. For a time, I held the title of Governor and Captain General of New Spain, but the Crown’s officials soon worked to limit my authority. They feared the power I had gained and sought to bring the colony directly under royal control. Though I fought to keep my place, I spent my later years defending my actions in Spain rather than ruling in Mexico.

The Lasting Legacy

The conquest changed the world for both Spaniard and native. Cities rose where others had fallen, new customs mixed with old traditions, and the people of New Spain became a blend of many cultures. The empire I had helped to forge would endure for centuries, its wealth shaping the fortunes of Spain, but it was built on the ruins of a world that could never be restored.

The Role of the Catholic Church and the Cultural Destruction – Told by Castillo

Not long after the fighting ended, the first missionaries arrived in New Spain. They were men of faith—Franciscans, Dominicans, and later Augustinians—sent to bring the word of God to the people of these lands. They came without swords, yet their mission was no less powerful in shaping the future than ours had been in war. They built churches where temples once stood, taught children to read and write in Spanish, and introduced new farming techniques and methods of healing. They cared for the sick and poor, and in many cases, their presence helped ease the suffering that followed the chaos of conquest.

Education, Healing, and Recording History

The friars quickly set about teaching the indigenous population not only the Christian faith but also European ways of living. They opened schools for young boys, taught crafts and trades, and introduced a new system of laws grounded in the teachings of the Church. They also tended to the sick, especially in the wake of disease outbreaks, and learned enough of the native languages to preach and counsel without always needing an interpreter. They recorded much of what they saw—the customs, language, and beliefs of the people—but in this, there lay both preservation and danger.

The Rewriting of History

When the missionaries took on the role of recording the history of these lands, they did so with their own beliefs and goals in mind. They saw the Aztec gods as false and their rituals as dangerous, so they shaped their writings to show the conquest as a divine deliverance. By choosing which stories to tell, which customs to highlight, and which to leave out, they controlled how future generations would see the past. Many details of Aztec achievements—engineering, governance, art—were diminished or omitted, while their practices of sacrifice were magnified to justify the Spanish victory.

Cultural Destruction and Suppression

As the Church spread, so too did the erasure of the old ways. The great temples of Tenochtitlan and other cities were torn down or remade into churches. The codices—painted books that recorded history, law, and knowledge—were burned in great numbers. Artworks and sacred objects were destroyed, their meaning dismissed as heathen superstition. Festivals that had marked the seasons for generations were replaced with Christian holy days, and the worship of the old gods was forbidden under threat of punishment.

Forced Conversion and New Forms of Control

The Christianization of the people happened quickly in some places, slower in others. Some converted out of genuine belief, others to avoid conflict or to secure favor with the new rulers. Baptism became as much a political act as a spiritual one. The Church became not only a source of spiritual authority but also a tool of governance, reinforcing Spanish laws and moral codes in daily life. Priests advised colonial officials, and the line between religious duty and royal control grew thin.

A Legacy of Faith and Loss

I saw good in the missionaries’ work—they brought learning, protection from abuse in some cases, and a new hope to those who embraced their faith. Yet I also saw the deep loss their mission left behind: the silenced voices of the old traditions, the vanished treasures of temples and codices, and the reshaping of an entire people’s history to fit the story Spain wished to tell. It is a legacy as complex as the conquest itself—one of faith, knowledge, and charity, but also of erasure, control, and the rewriting of the past.

Mestizaje and the Birth of a New Culture – Told by La Malinche

From the moment the Spaniards began to settle in these lands, Spanish men and indigenous women formed unions, sometimes through marriage, sometimes through alliances, and often through arrangements made without a woman’s choice. I myself bore a son, Martín, to Hernán Cortés, a child of both worlds. These unions brought together different languages, beliefs, and customs, creating families unlike any that had existed before.

Blending of Traditions

In the homes of these families, Spanish and native traditions met and mixed. The Spanish brought their clothing, foods, and faith, while the indigenous mothers taught their children the languages, stories, and skills of their own people. Kitchens became places where maize met wheat, and celebrations began to carry the songs and dances of both cultures. This blending spread quickly, creating new ways of speaking, dressing, and living that belonged to neither side alone.

New Identities and Language

The children of these unions, called mestizos, often spoke both Spanish and their mother’s native tongue. They could move between communities, acting as traders, interpreters, and messengers. Over time, a new identity emerged—neither fully Spanish nor fully indigenous, but something in between. This mestizo identity became one of the foundations of what the people of Mexico would one day call their own culture.

The Shadow of Hierarchy

Yet this new society did not see all its people as equals. Those of full Spanish blood held the highest positions in government, trade, and the Church. Mestizos often had more opportunity than those of purely indigenous heritage, but they still faced limits placed by colonial laws and prejudice. A rigid hierarchy developed, with Spaniards born in Spain at the top, their descendants born in New Spain below them, and the mestizos and indigenous peoples further down.

A Lasting Transformation

In time, mestizaje changed the land forever. It created new art, new food, new customs, and a shared history between the descendants of Spain and the peoples who had lived here for centuries. But it also carried the weight of inequality and the memory of conquest. The world that emerged from this meeting of cultures was richer in many ways, yet it was born from a history marked by both union and loss.

Legal Justifications: The Requerimiento and Spanish Law – Told by Cortés

When we sailed to these lands, we did so under the authority of the Spanish Crown and with the blessing of the Church. The law we carried with us was not written here but in Spain, declaring that the Pope, as God’s representative on earth, had granted these territories to our king. This authority was set forth in a formal declaration called the Requerimiento. By its words, any land we entered would fall under the rule of Spain if the people accepted our sovereignty and embraced the Christian faith. To the Crown, this was a moral and legal right, ordained by God and sanctioned by the Church.

Reading the Requerimiento

In practice, the Requerimiento was read aloud before we engaged with a new community. It explained our right to rule and the benefits of accepting our authority. But it was always read in Spanish, a language none of the local people understood, and often from a distance or at a time when diplomacy had already failed. There were moments when it was shouted from the decks of our ships or read to empty villages before we advanced. To us, it satisfied the requirement of the law. To those hearing it—if they heard it at all—it was nothing but strange sounds with no meaning, yet its unreadable words became the Crown’s justification for war.

From Law to Conquest

Once the Requerimiento was declared, any refusal to submit was considered rebellion against the Crown and God Himself. This gave us the legal grounds, under Spanish law, to fight, subdue, and claim both the land and its people. It was a tool not just for formalizing our actions but for quieting any questions about the morality of what we did. With this document in hand, our advance could be painted as righteous in the eyes of Spain, even when it was driven by ambition, wealth, and the hunger for land.

The Encomienda System

After the war, the Crown faced the question of how to reward those who had fought and how to control the vast new territories. The answer was the encomienda system. Under this arrangement, land and its inhabitants were granted to Spanish encomenderos. The people were expected to provide tribute in goods, crops, or labor. In return, the encomendero was supposed to protect them, teach them the Christian faith, and ensure their well-being. On paper, it was a relationship of care and responsibility. In reality, it often became a system of exploitation, with little thought given to the promises made.

Tribute and Forced Labor

The tribute demanded was heavy. Villages were required to supply maize, cotton, gold, or other valuable goods, no matter the hardships of their harvests. Labor was extracted for fields, mines, and construction projects, often far from a man’s home. Many indigenous people were sent to work in mines where sickness, injury, and exhaustion claimed countless lives. Others were made to toil on Spanish estates, leaving their own families to struggle in their absence. The system drained communities, reshaping their economies to serve the needs of the conquerors rather than their own people.

Population Loss and Cultural Change

Disease had already weakened the population, but forced labor and tribute deepened the decline. Communities that had been strong before the conquest found themselves struggling to survive. Old leaders lost authority as Spanish officials and priests assumed control. Traditional ways of life were disrupted, and lands held for generations were now claimed by the Crown or its settlers. Society itself was remade to serve the empire, with the indigenous people at the lowest level of a rigid colonial hierarchy.

The Lasting Weight of Law

The Requerimiento and the systems that followed were written to give an air of legality to conquest, yet they were laws from another world, designed without the consent or understanding of the people they ruled. The words of the Requerimiento might have satisfied the requirements of Spanish law, but they did not bridge the chasm between our world and theirs. What followed was a new order built on the ruins of the old, shaped by the force of arms, the will of the Crown, and the unyielding belief that Spain’s right to rule had been granted by Heaven itself.

The Myths and Realities of the Conquest – Discussed by All Four

Cortés: The Making of LegendsMany stories have been told of the conquest, and I know that some paint me as a hero while others call me a villain. In truth, both views are too simple. I was a man who saw an opportunity and took it, using the tools of war, diplomacy, and faith to claim a vast new land for Spain. Some say we few Spaniards defeated a mighty empire by ourselves, but the truth is that we were joined by thousands of native allies whose resentment of Aztec rule made our campaign possible. Without them, the story would have ended long before we reached Tenochtitlan.

Moctezuma: How the Story Was Told

In the histories written after the war, I am often shown as weak or blinded by prophecy, but those who truly understand know the choices I faced were bound by our beliefs and the world we knew. We sought to preserve life when possible, for an empire is not maintained by constant war alone. The Spanish accounts were written to justify their victory, and many indigenous voices were lost or reshaped to fit that purpose. The story of the conquest is not only about battles—it is also about how the victors chose to tell it.

La Malinche: Voices Between Worlds

I am remembered in many ways—some see me as a traitor, others as a bridge between peoples. Yet few understand the complexity of my position. I carried messages between two worlds, shaping words so that war might be avoided when possible and alliances could be made. In the Spanish histories, my role is often small or twisted to suit their view; in some indigenous memories, I am a symbol of loss. The truth is that my actions were part of a larger chain of events, shaped as much by the ambitions of others as by my own choices.

Bernal Díaz del Castillo: Witness and Correction

I wrote my history to correct the exaggerations and omissions of others. Too often, accounts ignored the common soldiers and the countless indigenous allies, focusing only on the deeds of a few leaders. The myths of the conquest—whether of Spanish invincibility or Aztec helplessness—do not serve the truth. What I saw was a long and brutal struggle in which courage, cruelty, and necessity were found on every side.

All: The Lasting Impact

The conquest was not the end of the story, but the beginning of a new and complicated world. It brought Spanish law, religion, and language to these lands, but it also destroyed temples, burned books, and silenced traditions. New cultures were born from the mixing of peoples, yet deep divisions and inequalities remained. The legends make it seem simple—heroes and villains, victories and defeats—but the reality was a web of alliances, betrayals, hopes, and sorrows. To know the truth of the conquest, one must hear all voices, not just those of the victors.