A serious problem now faced Oñate. The Indians could not go unpunished, nor must the plan of punishment fail—for should it do so, New Mexico would have to be abandoned. Other pueblos, watching to see the result of the revolt of what was considered by them an impregnable fortress of their race, would certainly rise in unison, and there would result a war, possibly one of extermination. There were available but two hundred white men—whereas in Ácoma there were not less than three hundred warriors, and some additional Navajos. Moreover, Oñate could use only a fraction of his own force, because the other pueblos would assuredly rise if the settlements of Spaniards should be left unprotected. But war was inevitable, and Oñate showed shrewdness in first getting opinions from the padres as to what constitutes a justifiable war, so that he would be supported against all censure of viceroy and monarch should his desperate case prove also a ruined one. The reply of the _comisario_ and other priests is set forth in long detail and is of eminent worth.[61] It seemed but just and fair that the brother of the slain Zaldívar should lead the avengers of the massacre—and to Vicente de Zaldívar therefore was given the command. With him was Farfán, and another was the soldier-poet Villagrá, whose rhymed history of the siege and capture of the redoubtable rock is the basis of our information.[62] Oñate made the men a moving address of farewell, cautioning them against an over-zealous spirit of revenge, and recommending that they should all be confessed and receive the Communion before they started on their perilous task. Only one man, not named, refused, and so did not go. Vicente and the dauntless _comisario_, Father Alonso Martínez, with a band of seven captains and seventy soldiers, left San Juan January 12, 1599, and on the twenty-first arrived at Ácoma. They were greeted from afar by the exultant savages, dancing stark naked on their cliff, while their medicine men, hideously painted, beat the drums and hurled curses and incantations upon the besiegers, and all the inhabitants joined in shrieking insults. Zaldívar came as near as he dared, and the notary through an interpreter named Tomás, according to a prescribed and usual formula, thrice summoned the Ácomas to surrender. Instead of meek obedience came a shower of stones and arrows. The savages, certain of their own security, had even rejected the counsel of some of their own men to remove the women and children, and now howled defiance at the Spaniards.