"Not free!--a prisoner!" cried the wounded youth, weakly. He raised his
hands, trembling with grief: "Oh, woe, woe! My country, what weight of
sorrow hath fallen upon thee!" He buried his head in his arms and lay
in silence. Cristoval was about to leave when he spoke again, his voice
steady once more, and all trace of feeling banished from his
countenance:--
"Viracocha, you have shown me mercy. You have saved my life. Let me
beg one more favor. Will you say to the Inca that Toparca sendeth his
affectionate greeting and sympathy; and that if it is permitted he will
share his imprisonment and minister to his wants--that he will share his
fate, whatever it be?"
"Willingly," replied Cristoval, and desirous of ending the interview, he
spoke a few words of assurance and returned to his post.
*CHAPTER VIII*
_*An Arm of the Inquisition*_
The day following was one of activity. The first task was to clear the
square. The hundreds of prisoners herded in one of the buildings were
set at the work, noble toiling beside common without distinction or
favor. Not even Indian stoicism was proof against the calamity, and old
men, scarred from a hundred battles, worked with streaming eyes,
dragging forth the bodies of their friends to be stripped of their
ornaments by the Spaniards and borne away for indiscriminate burial.
Hernando Pizarro was sent with his troop to the Peruvian camp to break
up whatever force might be lingering there, and to plunder the Inca's
residence. Toward midday his return was announced by a sentinel, and
Cristoval formed his guard. The troop entered the town with a flourish
of trumpets. Its leading platoon was followed by a long procession of
captives laden with spoils, of _hamacas_ bearing the women of the court,
of disarmed warriors, and of townspeople who had been removed from
Caxamalca at the approach of the Spaniards. The men, stupefied by what
had befallen, marched in stolid indifference. But the women,
dishevelled, wild-visaged, and dreading all things for themselves and
the children in their arms or clinging to their robes, filled the air
with their wailing and frantic lamentations, until securely housed in
the buildings on the square.
Late in the afternoon an orderly summoned Cristoval to a council of the
officers at Pizarro's headquarters. He picked up Candia on his way, and
the two were the first to arrive. They found Pizarro watching the
_veedor_ at work appraising the plunder brought from the Inca's villa
and taken from the bodies of the Indian nobles. The commander's face
was haggard, and he looked years older. He greeted the two officers
cordially and said, pointing to the table on which were heaped the
spoils:--
"The first fruits, _camaradas_! We have come to the harvest season at
last. Not a bad wage for one day's work! What say you?"
Cristoval looked with astonishment at the wealth stacked upon the stone
table on which the _veedor_, or inspector, had set his scales. In the
middle was the chair of the Inca, a fortune in itself, and heaped around
it the royal table service of gold and silver. On one of the plates was
a little mound of emeralds, some of them of unusual size and brilliancy,
and near by, a disorderly heap of the personal ornaments taken from the
slain. On the floor were piled rugs, furs, embroidered tapestries, and
fabrics of finest weave and dye.
The _veedor_ ceased his work as he arose and walked round the table. He
was a fat, puffing, putty-colored individual of fifty years, with a
peculiar falsetto voice and a habit of perpetually snuffling. Now his
bulging eyes were more bulging than ever in their greedy leer. "Ah,
look upon it, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. "Behold it!
Satiate your eyes! Let them revel, my friends! Is it not a feast?
Delicious! Delicious! Look at these plates!--gold--solid gold! And
these goblets--silver! And these precious stones--ah!" He dug his
hands into the heap of emeralds and let them sift through his fat
fingers, his head on one side, fairly drooling with delight, while he
screwed his face into so gross and atrocious a smirk that Cristoval
looked away with an oath under his breath. The _veedor_ snuffled and
went on: "And see these gewgaws--stripped from the heathen! Oh, my soul
and body, what pickings! They are bloody yet, but how they'll shine
when they are clean! They'll weigh too. Eh, Pizarro?--Treasure,
treasure, _compadres_! The reward of our courage! A fitting reward of
gallantry! We'll divide it by-and-by--we'll all have some! But stay, my
friend Cristoval, thou didst not fight! What shall we do about
Cristoval's share, General? We all know he did not fight. Of course,
nobody would question his courage--but there are so many brave fellows
to provide for, and after all there is not so very much to divide."
He turned to Pizarro, puffing out his cheeks and wiping from his
forehead the perspiration started by his emotion over the treasure.
Cristoval had listened with disgust, hardly able to restrain his hands
from gripping the fat throat. The slurring reference to his inactivity
in the massacre roused his ire, and the _veedor_ encountered a scowl so
black that he started back with a gasp and shuffled precipitately behind
the table.
"Pizarro! Pizarro!" he cried, his peculiar falsetto rising to a squeak.
"That man meditateth violence! He contemplateth doing me an injury! I
see it in his eyes! Restrain him, Pizarro! I am an officer of the
Crown, and call upon you to protect me with your sword. I have a wife
and five small--"
"Be done, Rogelio!" commanded Pizarro, who had small liking for the
timorous member of his civil staff. "Thou talkest too much. Learn to
hold thy tongue. Come! Get back to thy work, and I'll vouch for thy
safety."
"I am a civilian, and a man of peace," piped the _veedor_, rolling his
colorless eyes at Cristoval. "I am an officer of the Crown, and I want
it understood, Pizarro, that I'll accept no challenges. He may meditate
a challenge."
"I think thou doest him injustice," replied Pizarro, with sarcasm.
"Thou 'rt safe. Now return to thy work."
Cristoval had turned his back with a snort of contempt, and Rogelio
resumed his weighing and figuring, his fear gradually giving place to
malicious glances directed toward the back of the stout cavalier.
Jose entered, and Pizarro hailed him.
"_Hola_, Jose! Thou 'rt in good season. I have been hearing of thee
from Fray Mauricio. Dost know that he hath denounced thee as a
heretic?"
"He promised so to do, General."
"A serious charge, Jose! It would bring thee trouble were we at home,
and might do so here, had I less authority. The friar saith thou didst
utter blasphemies enough to bring thee before the Holy Office. Many a
man hath gone to the stake for less."
The old armorer's dark eyes glowed, and he replied bluntly: "If it was
blasphemy to defend the Holy Mother and Santiago from the charge of
aiding in yesterday's butchery, then I blasphemed, and would blaspheme
again; for I tell you, Pizarro, the work of your men was naught less
than hellish."
"Have a care, old man!" said Pizarro, with a scowl. "Thy words are more
dangerous than blasphemies. Imperil thy soul if it please thee; but
understand that, by Heaven, I'll brook no criticism!"
There was no flinching in Jose as he met the threat in Pizarro's words
and look, and he answered hotly, "Then let me not be put to a defence of
my words to Fray Mauricio."
De Soto and other officers had entered, followed by the friar,
unobserved and in time to catch Jose's challenge. The monk moved quickly
forward and confronted the armorer. "Thou libeller! Blasphemer!
Heretic! What!--hath the Church no power to punish such as thou? But we
shall see! We shall see! Officers, seize that man! General Pizarro, I
demand his arrest in the name of the Congregation of the Holy Office!"
No man moved. All stood for a moment aghast at the friar's invocation
of the dread power of the Inquisition. Its very name carried terror, and
they hated it as much as they feared its wrath. They stared in silence
at Fray Mauricio, but Jose alone stood unmoved. He faced the friar with
calm scorn, his tall, soldierly figure towering above him like a tree.
Cristoval glanced at Pizarro and stepped to Jose's side. De Soto and
others followed, and the group faced the Dominican. The commander's
irritation at the armorer's criticism was smothered in resentment of the
intrusion of the Inquisition in his affairs, already difficult enough,
and in a quick detestation of Mauricio as its avowed agent.
"My good brother," said Pizarro, coldly, "thou hadst best reconsider thy
demand."
"Oppose me at thy peril, Pizarro!" shouted the friar, whirling upon him
savagely. "Dost thou know this man? Dost know that he is a
Morisco--this unknown who calleth himself Jose? Doth any man here know
his name?"
"No man here knoweth my name, friar," interrupted Jose, "but thou shalt
have it! I am Abul Hassan Zegri--a Moor. My father was Abul Hassan
Zegri--a Moor.--And now hearken!" he thundered, approaching the monk at
a stride and glaring down into his eyes with an expression that chilled
his blood. "Hearken! If thou seekest more of me, or breathest my name
again in denunciation or accusation, to-day, to-morrow, or twenty years
hence, thou diest--and I swear it! By the Almighty, if thou barest thy
claws again at me, I'll not spare thee! Now go! Go!--or I'll kill thee
in thy tracks!"
Mauricio hurriedly retreated. Jose thrust his poniard back into its
sheath with a snap and faced the officers. During the outburst they had
stood petrified. His bold declaration that he was a Moor--one of a
people which had been proscribed and driven from Spain with every form
of persecution, outrage, and cruelty that hatred of their race and greed
of their wealth could inspire--staggered even Cristoval. The others had
been too much astounded, and even horror-stricken by his rash defiance
and arraignment of the Inquisition to interfere in behalf of the friar
had they been so inclined. Jose looked from one to another for a moment
with all the pride and fierceness of his race now aroused and burning in
his defiant eyes.
"Senores," he said, "ye have heard my name. There may be one among you
who liketh not the sound of it, or who would question me further. If
there be such a one, I will give him answer on horse or on foot."
"Nay, nay, Jose!" cried Cristoval, advancing and grasping his hand.
"None of us will quarrel with thy name. Thou 'rt a gallant comrade and
honest gentleman. That sufficeth. If any man here would dispute it, he
hath affair with me!"
"And with me!" added De Soto, with emphasis. "I believe, on my soul,
thou 'rt a good Christian, Abul Hassan Zegri, whatever thy blood. Thou
may'st count Hernando de Soto one of thy friends."
Hernando Pizarro and others joined in their protestation of friendship,
but the rest hung back, fearing the danger involved in adhering to a man
under ban of the Inquisition. Mendoza's muttered "_Morisco infiel!_"
was taken up, but the group around Jose was too formidable to encourage
open hostility, and the rest stood sullenly apart.
It was noticed by the commander, who said briefly: "There shall be no
quarrel about Jose, nor with him.--Jose, or Abul Hassan Zegri, or
whoever thou art, thou 'rt among friends. Thou hast been a stanch
companion, and whilst I have power no hand shall be raised against thee.
But guard thy tongue, and beware throwing nettles to the clergy. We are
far from Seville, but the Inquisition hath long arms, as men have
learned before. But--thou 'rt not an infidel?"
"I am a Christian," responded the armorer with dignity.
"That answereth every question thou shalt be asked. Senores, this affair
is mine. It endeth here." He glanced significantly at the lowering
group around Mendoza, then, after a pause: "Now, to the business for
which I have called you together. These are my orders, and ye will see
them carried out to the letter. The captives shall be released and go
unmolested. A sufficient number shall be retained as hostages and for
such services as may be required. The Inca shall be established with
his wives and household, and shall have every privilege and liberty
consistent with security. His nobles and people are to be admitted to
him without hindrance, and for the present he shall be allowed to
conduct the affairs of the empire--with our guidance and counsel when it
seemeth expedient. The nobles shall be treated as befitteth their rank,
and we'll have no violence offered any man or woman, noble or other. Ye
will make this understood among the men and see it enforced. Thus far
our arms have been blessed with success, but for the future as much
dependeth upon discretion as upon courage. Be prudent, therefore, as
vigilant, and vigilant as ye have been resolute.
"One word more: To-morrow I send a messenger to San Miguel, and with him
goeth Fray Mauricio. That is all, Senores. _Adios_."
*CHAPTER IX*
_*Cristoval Meets the Princess*_
There was a building fronting on the plaza which, from, the great
sculptured serpent on its wall, became known to the Spaniards as the
House of the Serpent. Plain and massive in its architecture as the
others, it covered, in a rambling fashion, a large extent of ground. By
chance the invaders had left it untouched until opened for the Inca and
his suite. Being an old Incarial palace, Atahualpa requested that he be
quartered there. This was readily granted, and Pizarro, to be near his
prisoner, moved into the building himself.
That part of it abutting on the square was ancient, but in later years
it had been added to from time to time until it could house five or six
score people. It extended back a hundred yards or more, enclosing one
large and two smaller courts from which entrance was given to the
various apartments. In the rear was a park filled with trees and
shrubbery, and surrounded by a high wall of stone and adobe. Since the
erection of the villa near the mineral springs the palace had been
disused, and the garden neglected; but it retained its beauty, enhanced,
perhaps, by its touch of wildness. The fountains still playing in its
shade were green with moss, the walks overgrown with grass, and wild
flowers had invaded the lawns, as if Nature had gently striven against
its artificiality. The melancholy of decay had entered the enclosure as
in preparation to greet the fallen fortune of the royal prisoner, fated
to spend many a moody hour pacing its walks and chafing in his bondage.
Whatever depth of hatred the Inca cherished toward his captors, however
burning his thirst for revenge, no sign betrayed them. The bitterness
of captivity must have sunk into his proud heart, but it lay hidden
beneath unvarying dignity and calm. With strength and patience which
rose above disaster and compelled the admiration of the Spaniards, he
took up the affairs of his stricken country, and with masterly readiness
stayed the demoralization already sweeping over his empire like a tidal
wave. With the few nobles left him he held his councils. Fleet
_chasquis_ were despatched to the farthest confines of his dominions,
bearing assurances of his safety, enjoining peace, and summoning his
trusted advisers.
Meanwhile, everything practicable was done to mitigate the hardship of
his captivity. The blue-uniformed guard in the anteroom had given place
to a detail of steel-accoutred Spaniards, and sentinels were in evidence
outside the palace walls, but the monarch saw little of them. Even the
officers did not intrude upon his privacy; though later he found
pleasure, or at least interest, in the society of certain of them and
invited them often. He gave daily audience to his people, who were
admitted freely to his presence. They found him still wearing the
_llautu_ and possessing the semblance--to all immediate intents and
purposes the actuality--of his imperial power. They were commanded by
him to be acquiescent to the strangers, by whom they were treated with
due consideration, and went away reassured.
The soldiers were now removed from the temporary barracks and assigned
to quarters in the houses, largely left vacant by townspeople who
availed themselves of the privilege of leaving Caxamalca. Cristoval,
with De Soto, took a dwelling not far from the palace. He dismissed
most of the Indies placed at his service, and assigned a suitable number
to the wounded Toparca, whom he left in his old quarters on the square.
The prince was mending rapidly under Jose's skill, but was still unable
to rise. Cristoval visited him daily, thereby improving his knowledge
of Quichua and acquiring information about the country. As their
acquaintance ripened he found the noble to be very much a man, and
beneath his reserve he discovered a genuine urbanity. Toparca, on his
part influenced by gratitude, increased by Cristoval's unfailing
thoughtfulness, had become strongly attached to his rescuer, whose
friendship he regarded as the condescension of a being somewhat more
than human.
Returning late one afternoon from a reconnaissance to the southward,
Cristoval stopped to inquire for the prince. He entered the patio,
rapped upon the half-open door, and, without waiting for an answer,
pushed aside the hangings and entered,--to find himself confronted by
half-a-dozen young women. He recognized them at once by their costume
as attendants at the palace. The sudden apparition of his mailed figure
threw consternation among the damsels, nearly equalled by his own at
their half-suppressed scream. Stammering an apology, part Spanish, part
Quichua, he bowed and was hastily retiring when Toparca called from his
couch:--
"Wait, Viracocha Cristoval! Do not go before I have made you known to
my sister, the Nusta Rava. Tarry a moment, I pray you."
The princess had risen, terrified by the formidable man in steel, whose
face she could scarcely discern beneath his lifted visor. To her
unaccustomed eyes he was huge and monstrous--a direful, enigmatic being
from another world, of a race prodigious in destructiveness,
unassailable and irresistible as gods, murderous as fiends. The sound
of his approach as he moved toward her, the clank and harsh rustle of
his accoutrements, struck dread to her heart. Cristoval perceived her
trembling. He halted, hurriedly unlatched and removed his helmet.
"I trust the Nusta Rava will forgive me for appearing in my harness," he
said in Quichua made lame by his embarrassment, and bowing gravely; "but
I had no thought of finding any one here but my Lord Toparca. With her
gracious permission I will retire."
"No, no!" said Toparca. "Let me present you:--Rava, this is the
Viracocha Cristoval, who, as I have told thee, rescued me from death."
Cristoval made a low obeisance, but the princess recoiled from him in
undisguised horror. Toparca saw the movement and expression, and said
quickly: "Rava, thou needst have no fear. I beg thou wilt know the
Viracocha Cristoval as my friend."
"Thy friend, Toparca?" she exclaimed, her low voice trembling. "Dost
think that I can look upon one of these as the friend of any of our
race? The blood-marks have not yet vanished from the square."
Toparca raised himself in anxiety to exonerate his benefactor. "But, my
sister," he said, hurriedly, "the Viracocha Cristoval had no part in
that."
"Had no part in it!" repeated the princess, with incredulous scorn.
"But he is here, an invader! His part began when he set foot upon our
soil, sword in hand. Say not that he had no part in it! Doth he hold
himself guiltless?--Can you hold yourself guiltless of that blood,
Viracocha?" She turned upon Cristoval, her dark eyes burning, her form
quivering from head to foot with the bitter intensity of her resentment.
"Are you absolved of the foul treachery by which my people were led
hither to their death? Of the perfidy that lured my brother into the
snare, unarmed and unsuspecting? You have had no part in all this?--Oh,
Toparca, canst thou call one of these dreadful beings thy friend whilst
Tavantinsuyu still mourns her dead? He had been more worthy the name
had he not preserved thee to witness the infinite misfortunes his people
have brought upon our unhappy country! He had been merciful had he
permitted thee to perish in ignorance of the slavery of our brothers and
the dishonor of our sisters. Thy friend, my brother? Tell me sooner
thou hast friends among the vultures! They, at least, prey not upon the
living. Farewell, Toparca!"
The princess drew her cloak about her, and passing Cristoval with a
brief glance in which was concentrated all the infuriate enmity that a
woman, raging at injury and helpless to avenge it, can feel for the
oppressor, she left the apartment, followed by her frightened maids.
Cristoval had heard her in silence. No doubt his uppermost feeling was
compassion, for he felt the heartbreak beneath her denunciation. He
knew better than she how well her indignation was justified, and was
thankful that she could not know the sordid greed back of the invasion.
Many of her words he had been unable to catch, but he did not fail to
get her meaning clearly enough, for that was expressed in every tone and
gesture. His freedom from the stains of the massacre had made him proof
against much of her reproach, but he could not be indifferent to her
hate and scorn. Through all he felt her beauty, somewhat ferine and
stormy now, he thought, but still of a transcendent, queenly kind.
Altogether, he had listened with sympathy quite without resentment; so
that when she met his look in passing, instead of the rage and cruelty
she expected, she read a grave pity of which she thought afterward; and
in place of the stern, perhaps brutal rejoinder she looked for, a bow of
profound respect and deference.
Cristoval expressed his keen regret for the inopportune entry which had
sent her away so abruptly, but Toparca was even more disturbed,
uncertain of the effect of her anger upon the Viracocha.
"I hope you will not think of her words, Viracocha Cristoval," he said,
anxiously. "The princess is young, and hath already known much grief.
She will learn that there are generous and humane hearts----"
"Even among Spaniards!" said Cristoval, with a trace of bitterness in
his faint smile. "I trust so, my Lord Toparca. But the princess hath
my earnest sympathy." Then he changed the subject quickly, and soon
departed, giving little further thought to the Nusta Rava.
It was not long before the constraint at first existing between the Inca
and the Spanish officers began to wear away under the influence of the
uniform courtesy with which he was treated, partly in observance of
Pizarro's strict injunctions, but due quite as much to the innate
stateliness of the monarch himself. His captors soon learned to know
him as a man of alert intelligence, eager for knowledge of their world.
As the months dragged on he formed several friendships with them which
went far to moderate the dreariness of captivity, in which he displayed
his discrimination of human character. From the first he was attracted
by De Soto, whose superiority over most of his comrades he was not slow
to recognize. De Soto, in turn, conceived for the unfortunate monarch a
deep regard, a sentiment shared by Hernando Pizarro and Candia.
But before all others in the Inca's esteem was Peralta. Atahualpa had
not forgotten his part in the affair on the plaza, and his gratitude and
confidence had been increased by the rescue of Toparca. Thus
predisposed in Cristoval's favor, the cavalier's growing knowledge of
the Quichua dialect made their acquaintance of easy growth. Cristoval's
wide experience as a soldier appealed vigorously to the warlike prince,
and he spent many hours listening to accounts of European campaigns and
methods.
It is doubtful if the monarch had ever, since his youth, known real
companionship unconstrained by his majesty. The gulf separating him from
his most exalted subject was immeasurable and not to be bridged by any
human feeling. As far as friendship was concerned he was alone, wearied
to the limits of endurance by the perpetual reverence and awe by which
he was surrounded. He did not undertake to exact, did not want, and
could not have had from the Spaniards, the servile homage tendered by
his subjects, and its absence was a relief. They treated him as a royal
man, not as a Child of the Sun, and he was grateful. It is not to be
supposed that they were always tactful, that they never overstepped the
bounds of familiarity; but his natural dignity protected him, and it
occurred infrequently--with Cristoval never. The cavalier was neither
presuming nor humble, and their friendship prospered.
For the Spanish commander the Inca never acquired a liking. It was
impossible for him to regard Pizarro otherwise than as his arch-enemy
and author of his misfortunes. As a soldier he exonerated the other
officers in a degree, reflecting that they were subordinates, and
attributing to their leader the absolute authority over them which he
himself wielded over his troops. So upon Pizarro he placed the entire
weight of responsibility. He was repelled, however, by the cold
austerity of the taciturn leader, who possessed little of the
graciousness of his brother Hernando and had no wish for the good will
of the man he had so mortally injured.
To Cristoval the tour as commander of the guard at the palace was always
welcome. On one of these occasions, having some need to see the Inca,
he was directed by one of the attendants to the garden, and taking one
of the side-paths which wound through the shrubbery, had gone but a few
yards when a turn brought him face to face with the Nusta Rava, followed
by one of her handmaidens. He bowed, stepped aside, and waited, toque in
hand, for her to pass, fully expecting to encounter the indignant scorn
which he had seen last in her handsome eyes. He found it, however,
quite absent, and in its stead one of some confusion, not unmixed with
fear. To his surprise she halted and stood looking up to him with a
timidity that made him uncomfortably conscious of the warlike attire
which inspired her dread. He bowed again, and in response to his look
of kindly inquiry she began:--
"Viracocha,--my words some days ago were spoken in ignorance of all my
obligations. My brother, the Inca, hath told me of your many acts of
generosity to him in his misfortune. Can you forget my injustice and
accept my gratitude?"
"The Nusta Rava's words are forgotten," replied Cristoval; "and I can
only thank her for the graciousness of those just spoken. I beg she
will believe the sincerity of my sympathy for her august brother and
herself."
"Ah, I do believe it, Viracocha Cristoval! It hath been proven by your
friendship."
"You may count upon all that lieth within its power," said Cristoval,
earnestly. "I would it could undo what hath been done; but if it can
ever serve you, now or in the future, be sure of it."
He had spoken with the gentleness with which he would have addressed a
child--in fact, he looked upon her as little more--and the voice of the
unhappy princess broke when she tried to murmur her acknowledgment. As
she turned away she extended her hand. Cristoval pressed it for an
instant, and she passed on. He continued his walk meditatively.
Presently he came to a bench and sat down, studying the gravel at his
feet.
"A murrain seize this business!" he thought. "Heaven knoweth what is to
become of her, or of any of them. God have mercy on them!--and may the
fiend run away with the conquest! There's no glory in it, nor aught but
foul outrage and devil's greed and lust. 'T is not even war! Would I
had stayed back in Panama, and had no part in bringing this royal
brother and sister into the power of these freebooters! Wolves!--She is
gentle as a Christian--when it pleaseth her to be, that is! _Cara_! But
I envy not the man who doth counter her disapproval. Ah, well!--what a
pity she is not a Christian! I'll speak to Father Tendilla: he is a
kindly old man, and hath gentleness of speech."
Cristoval rose and walked slowly on.
He came upon the Inca shortly, and found him restlessly pacing back and
forth. He turned at the sound of the cavalier's footsteps, and his
countenance brightened somewhat as he said, cordially proffering his
hand, "May the Sun never hide his face from thee, Viracocha Cristoval!"
"God be with you, my Lord Inca!" said Cristoval. "I trust the day hath
gone well."
"Not ill, though I have known better ones," replied Atahualpa, with a
slight smile. "I have had another visit from thy general and his
priest."
"Father Valverde?" asked Cristoval. "I would it had been Tendilla."
"And I!" said the Inca, with a frown, "for this one pleaseth me not. He
persisteth in assailing my religion. Why is it? What is my religion to
him?--and to Pizarro? It is the faith of my fathers. Why should I
change it at their behest? Hath not every man the right to his own
belief and form of worship? We of Tavantinsuyu never forced our gods
upon other men; yet this priest saith your people have crossed the seas
to bring your religion to me!--to teach me the words of the Prince of
Peace--the Prince of Peace! Is it so? Tell me--is that the purpose of
your coming?"
His face had grown stern as he put the question, and without pausing for
an answer he went on with increasing vehemence: "Do you tell me it is
for this, Viracocha Cristoval, that I am a prisoner, surrounded by
guards like a common criminal, while so many of my children lie in
unhonored graves? Is it that I may become a Christian? Let me have the
truth, Viracocha!"
"By heaven, I will!" blurted Cristoval, weary and disgusted at the cloak
of religion under which his countrymen strove to mask their rapacity.
"I'll tell you why we are here, Prince! We have come for your gold!
Now you have the pith and meat of the whole matter. Had your country
not been cursed with wealth you and your people could have gone
peacefully down to hell unheeded by Spanish priest or soldier. But you
have gold, and we want it!"
Atahualpa regarded him with amazement and incredulity. "Gold!" he
exclaimed. "Gold! Dost tell me you have come so far for such stuff as
this?" and he pulled the jewelled bracelets from his wrists and cast
them scornfully at Cristoval's feet.
"For such as that, my Lord Inca," replied Cristoval, ignoring the
precious ornaments.
Atahualpa gazed at him for a moment in silence, the look of astonishment
in his eyes rapidly yielding to one of anger. "Dost mean to say," he
demanded, in a voice grown suddenly harsh, "that this measureless
calamity hath been brought upon me and mine by the childish desire of
thy people for these trumperies? Great God! Are you madmen, that you
count human lives paltry beside this dross which we dig from the earth?
Are the murder of my people and the base treachery to me but trifles?"
"My lord, even greater wrongs have been committed for the love of gold.
Few crimes in the fiend's category but have sprung from it. It hath
reddened the earth with blood, and made hell populous."
Cristoval encountered a look of mingled wonder and abhorrence. It was
some seconds before Atahualpa spoke. Then he said slowly: "Strange
beings! Do you consider that it hath some magic virtue, this gold, or
doth it not possess some hidden power to give madness?"
"Both, my Lord Inca! It hath a magic that can bring all things to its
possessor--save only happiness, love, and salvation; and it can cause
madness."
"It is a riddle!" exclaimed the Inca, with impatience. "But enough!
Thou tellest me you have come for gold. Dost thou want gold, Viracocha
Cristoval? Hear me!" He drew near and lowered his voice, speaking
rapidly and with intensity: "I would be free! I want thine aid and
friendship. I can give thee more gold than thou couldst carry the
length of this garden--more than thou and the strongest of thy
companions could raise from the ground!"
Cristoval raised his hand: "My Lord Inca, I pray you, do not offer it.
My friendship cannot be purchased. You have it now; and when my aid
availeth you shall have that also, though not for gold, my lord. I will
do all in my power in your behalf and to procure your freedom. I know
not my commander's design, but should a greater evil threaten you than
hath already befallen, reckon my sword, if need be, in your defence."
Atahualpa studied him intently. The sincerity of Peralta's tone was in
his eyes, and not to be mistaken. "Viracocha Cristoval," said the
monarch after a pause, giving his hand, "I know not whether an Inca ever
before asked forgiveness of any man, but I ask thine now! I believe I
know thy friendship's worth."
"I thank you, my Lord Inca," replied Cristoval, simply. "But now, let me
counsel you. If you have gold at your command, offer it to Pizarro.
You shall find that when his nose smelleth a ransom he will turn a
willing ear. Have others present to witness your proposal; have De
Soto--he is an honorable man--and Candia, and Hernando Pizarro--the more
the better. And heed this carefully: Be not too liberal in your tender;
rather, be a shade niggardly at first, lest you over-stimulate his
cupidity. Your offer to me was extravagant, my lord. Be moderate, or
you may defeat your end. The hint of a too bountiful source from which
to draw may rouse ambition to possess the source itself. Were your
supply boundless as heaven, greed would rise to its full measure."
Atahualpa had listened with close attention. He pondered a moment, then
said: "I believe thy counsel is wise. I thank thee, my friend. I will
follow it."
*CHAPTER X*
_*A Royal Ransom*_
Cristoval's suggestion let a ray of hope into the Inca's heart. To make
it effectual without delay, and to bring the Spanish officers together,
he decided upon a banquet. He mentioned his purpose to Cristoval.
"Good!" said the cavalier, emphatically. "Nothing could be better, my
Lord Inca. 'T is an expedient in favor among Christian statesmen, and
much history hath grown out of roast meats and wine--articles uncommonly
fertile in liberal views of human affairs, and productive of flow of
words in expressing them. Feed Pizarro well, and your proposal will
follow most judiciously upon your cheer."
The Spaniards were unprepared for the splendor of their entertainment.
Banqueting was a function which the Peruvians had developed to a degree
of elegance hardly equalled in Christendom. The table was laden not
only with the choicest viands of the region, but with a lavish display
of plate that dazzled the eyes of the guests and rendered the _veedor_
suddenly speechless.
The Inca watched closely to observe the effect of the gold, and a moment
convinced him that Cristoval was right. He noted the quick lighting of
Pizarro's saturnine countenance and the significant glance at his
companions, though the leader gave no other sign. Some of his officers
retained less of their equipoise, and there were ejaculations of the
names of saints, the Faith, the Cross, the Sacrament, and the like,
invoked to witness their astonishment. Mendoza broke into a coarse
guffaw and slapped his neighbor on the back. De Soto, Hernando Pizarro,
Cristoval, and two or three others of the cavaliers of gentle breeding,
stood with faces reddened or pale with humiliation, until Pizarro put an
end to the exhibition with a stern "Attention, Senores! For the sake of
Heaven, be silent! Ye are at the table of a gentleman."
An uncomfortable constraint of some minutes' duration followed the
seating of the company. The Inca meditated upon the manifest craving of
his guests for the tableware, a greediness to him preposterous. The
Peruvians were diligent miners of the two precious metals, not because
they assigned to them any especial value, but for the reason that they
were beautiful and adaptable to purposes of decoration. The idea of
their use as a medium of exchange, that they could be representative of
the value of other things, of the luxuries, comforts, and even
necessities of life, was beyond the Inca's conception. Money was a
thing unknown in Tavantinsuyu, and Cristoval had not yet explained to
him its use in Christendom. But Atahualpa saw the Spaniards display an
interest in his plate which seemed emotional, even passionate, and which
made them oblivious, not only of the common courtesy due to him as their
host, but of their own dignity. The unaccountable appetite excited at
once his wonder and scorn.
After a moment, however, he recalled the obligations of hostship, and
with Felipillo's help engaged different ones in conversation. Pizarro
swallowed his irritation and took part with more graciousness than
Atahualpa had suspected him capable of showing, and the chill which had
threatened to mar the evening gradually wore away. There were several
of his nobles present, and they joined as freely in the sociability as
circumstances permitted; for at the royal table the extreme formality of
the court was for the time suspended, and the rigid distinction of
prince and subject laid aside.
At last the table was cleared, cups were served and filled with
_chicha_, and the Inca, dipping his finger-tip into the liquor, filliped
a few drops into the air as a libation to Inti, the Sun. He raised his
cup and bowed to Pizarro. The latter responded, and in accordance with
an ancient custom of the Peruvians remarkably like our own, the Inca
touched his cup to that of his guest, and they drank together. Thus,
with each of the company in turn Atahualpa took a sip of _chicha_. This
ceremony completed, he turned again to the Spanish commander and said
with nonchalance:--
"I perceive, Viracocha Pizarro, that your people are attracted by some
of our metals--especially so by gold. It is something you have in your
own country?"
"It is something which some of us have in our own country, my Lord
Inca," replied Pizarro; "and of which more of us have little; but
something, by the Faith, which all of us are pushing hardily to get!"
"Ah!" said the Inca. "But you possess a metal of far greater value in
your iron, Viracocha. It hath surprised me that you can set so much
importance upon one of comparatively little worth. But,--I would ask a
question,--can freedom be purchased with gold?"
Surprised by its suddenness, Pizarro seemed to fail for a moment to find
a reply.
"Can freedom be purchased with gold, Viracocha Pizarro?" repeated
Atahualpa.
Pizarro recovered himself, and replied with emphasis: "By the Crucifix,
that it can!--provided gold enough be offered."
"Provided gold enough be offered!" repeated the Inca, unable to conceal
his eagerness. "Then hear me, General Pizarro: Promise me liberty, and
I will cover the floor of this room with gold!"
The company ceased talking. Pizarro looked at him in astonishment,
while a smile of incredulity went round the table. Atahualpa
misinterpreted the silence and the expression, taking them to mean that
his offer was too meagre. He looked from one to another for a moment,
then sprang to his feet, and striding to the wall, stretched his hand
above his head as far as he could reach.
"I will fill the room to this height with gold, Viracochas!--Is it
enough?" he demanded, his eyes blazing with hardly suppressed
excitement. "Is it enough?"
Still the Spaniards were silent--dumb with amazement. Several had
arisen. "Mad!" whispered one. The Inca stood waiting for their reply,
his arm upraised, his commanding figure drawn to its full height,
glittering in the lamplight with gems and golden decorations, while his
dark eyes gleamed from beneath the fringe of the _llautu_ as he surveyed
the astonished Viracochas.
"Is it not enough?" he demanded again. "Then a like amount of silver!"
"Hold, in the name of Heaven!" exclaimed Cristoval warningly in Quichua.
Pizarro regained his voice: "What sayest thou, Peralta?--Can he do it?
Ask the noble beside thee!"
The noble answered with emphasis in the affirmative.
"Then 't is done!" shouted Pizarro, unable to restrain his excitement.
"Done! Agreed, my Lord Inca! We accept your offer. Make good your
terms, and you are a free man--at liberty to go and come without let or
hindrance. Here is my hand upon it. Wait!--We'll give you an
instrument in writing. Zapato, step out and send an orderly for my
secretary. Hernando, mount a chair and scratch a mark with thy dagger
where the Inca put his hand. My lord, deign to raise your hand again.
By the gods, Senores! What say you to 't? A hundred thousand demons!
D'ye believe your ears? We are all rich men! Ask the noble again,
Peralta, whether he can do it!--Ask another of them! Saith he yes? Art
sure? Blood and wounds and gods of war! Ha, ha! What say ye to't,
Senores?"
Pizarro's cold reserve had gone. Cristoval had rarely seen him smile
before: now he laughed, even roared, not pleasantly; and his pale
countenance showed unaccustomed color. The _veedor_ had pulled several
times at his sleeve, unheeded.
"Pizarro!" he whispered. "Pizarro! Hold off a bit! He would have
offered more, I am sure of it!"
Pizarro turned upon him with impatience: "Oh, a curse upon thy
money-gluttony, Rogelio! Hath it no bounds? Art insatiable? Be
silent!"
"He had opened his mouth to offer more, I'll swear it! Oh, misery!"
snuffled the _veedor_, as he turned away.
The room was in a hubbub. Every man was on his feet, talking at the top
of his voice and gesticulating. Now the _chicha_ flowed without stint.
When the secretary entered and set about the work of drawing up the
agreement they crowded upon him, explaining, suggesting, and advising,
until in despair he appealed to the commander, and they were ordered
back while Pizarro dictated the document. Rogelio was a notary, and the
paper was duly attested and sworn to, the Inca looking on with interest,
and making his mark at last in accordance with a confusion of
instructions from the wrought-up Spaniards. The business finished, he
retired with a faint significant smile to Cristoval; but his going was
almost unnoted by the others, and they lingered over their _chicha_ and
their jubilation until the small hours, when the guard was summoned to
carry certain ones to their quarters. Rogelio was hauled from a corner,
and awoke to bitter tears and incoherent reproaches hurled against
Pizarro's want of commercial sense. Pedro had appeared upon the scene
at its close, and directed the _veedor's_ removal.
"What, my fat pet!" exclaimed the cook in commiseration. "What, Rogelio,
my barrel of grease! Melting thus in tears? Wasting thy blubber in
futile drippings? Prithee, now, check thy thaw! A most melancholy
deliquation, my friend! A sad prodigality of tallow! Come, stay thy
liquefaction! Swab, wipe, stop thy leaks, desiccate, run dry, my civil
officer of the Crown; thou'rt growing soggy!--What! Damn Pizarro?
Agreed!--Damn the Inca? Fie, my cherub!--Damn everybody? Ah! But with
one exception, and that's Pedro, the cook. Now thou 'rt hiccoughing, and
I'm done with thee. _Adios_, Rogelio, my lard-firkin! Good-night, my
Cupid!" and Pedro stumped away.
Without loss of time Atahualpa despatched his _chasquis_ to Cuzco and
other important towns, bearing orders that temples be dismantled of
their gold and silver decorations, that palaces be stripped of their
utensils; that, in short, the precious metals be drawn from every
possible source and forwarded with all speed to Caxamalca. The report
of the fabulous offer of ransom went abroad among the Spanish soldiers,
received by most of them with incredulity and jeers; by a few, with
riotous demonstrations of joy. The room was promptly measured. It was
found to be about seventeen feet broad, by twenty-two feet long, and the
height indicated by the Inca in the neighborhood of nine feet from the
floor. This space was to be filled with gold in two months, and a
smaller room adjoining to be twice filled with silver.
It was days before there were returns from the Inca's orders;--days of
restlessness for him, for he was desperate to see the fulfilment of his
terms begun. Pizarro's eagerness was hardly less, but it was tempered
with much doubt of Atahualpa's ability to produce so vast a treasure.
At length, however, the first consignment arrived, borne on the backs of
porters. The news spread rapidly. The Indios were halted in the square
by an importunate rabble of soldiers, clamorous for a sight of their
burden, and made to open their packages. As the rich booty was
disclosed the soldiers stared a moment in stupefied silence, then raised
a shout. Others came running, gazed for a second, and added their
whoops. They went mad. They embraced one another, joined hands and
danced around the glowing yellow heap, bellowing their glee. They
mauled each other in heavy horse-play, roaring in uncouth laughter,
without words to fit their raptures. The Indian porters looked on,
wondering, as had the Inca, whether gold had not some hidden power to
give madness. The soldiers seized them, whirled them into their clumsy
fandango, clapped their backs and called them "_amigos_,"
"_hermanos_,"--friends and brothers,--and made them dizzy. Presently the
treasure was gathered up and borne by the singing, yelling mob in
triumph to Pizarro's headquarters in tumultuous invasion. That night no
man slept.
Thereafter, the stream of gold flowed steadily into Caxamalca for weeks,
fortunes in a day. But soon came the inevitable reaction. Exultancy
gave place to uneasiness and discontent. The treasure did not come in
fast enough! The Inca was delaying for the purpose of gaining time to
prepare for hostilities! Even Pizarro became suspicious, and went to
Atahualpa with the charge. The Inca met him with a dignified reminder
of the distance to be traversed by the gold, and the difficulties of the
road. Pizarro was half satisfied; his soldiers less. Rumors
persistently arose of native uprisings to rescue the monarch and regain
the treasure, which the Spaniards could not conceive to be less an
object of greed to the Indios than to themselves. Pizarro bluntly
accused the Inca of conspiring against him, but Atahualpa disdained the
imputation. The event proved his innocence, for a reconnaissance by
Hernando Pizarro to the south not only failed to find disquiet, but was
received everywhere with good-will. For a time the suspicions were
allayed, only to rise again later in greater strength.
About this time an event occurred which still further strained the
relations between Pizarro and his captive. Huascar, Atahualpa's
half-brother, then a prisoner at Xauxa, learned of the ransom being paid
the Spaniards, and sent secret emissaries offering an even greater price
for his own liberty. The negotiation was terminated suddenly by
Huascar's death. Whether the unfortunate prince was executed by the
Inca's order is a matter of doubt, but the fact that he was drowned in
the river Andamarca gives credit to the belief that he perished in an
attempt to escape.
As soon as the tragedy was reported to him the Inca sent for Pizarro and
informed him of Huascar's death with every expression of regret,
apparently sincere.
"What!" shouted Pizarro, his face livid. "Huascar dead! What tale is
this? Beware trifling with me, my Lord Inca! You will produce your
brother in Caxamalca, alive and unharmed. This controversy between you
shall be tried in a Christian court, as I have said to you before. Seek
not to avoid it by subterfuge, my lord!"
"General Pizarro," replied the Inca, with dignity, "I have said that
Huascar is dead."
"Then, by the Eternal!" flamed Pizarro, "you shall pay for it with your
life!" and turning on his heel, he left the room.
*CHAPTER XI*
_*The Inca's Last Prayer*_
Thereafter Pizarro's interviews with the Inca were as few and brief as
possible. Indeed, after the night of the banquet the captive was rarely
seen by most of the Spanish officers, for, with the exception of
Hernando Pizarro, De Soto, and Peralta, they were seldom invited to the
palace. Now a settled melancholy had come over Atahualpa, which however
disguised, did not escape Cristoval. The depression of his captivity
was increased by the enmity which the Spanish commander took no further
pains to conceal. The grief of the Nusta Rava for her brother,
moreover, had thrown a gloom over the palace, and deeply concerned
Atahualpa, who loved her with a brother's solicitude and felt her
unhappiness more keenly than was apparent to one unable to penetrate the
impassiveness of his bearing.
The princess fully returned his attachment. She had been much with him
of late, and, with Toparca, had often taken part in his conversations
with Cristoval--a favor seldom accorded to the other Spaniards, by whom
the women of the Inca's family were rarely seen. Now she kept the
seclusion of her apartments. Atahualpa missed her greatly, and
Cristoval often found him profoundly gloomy and distraught. The
cavalier encouraged him generously, doubtful himself, at times, of the
commander's integrity, but daily more determined that the contract
should be carried out.
The summer had passed its height. About the middle of February Almagro
arrived with a hundred and fifty infantry and fifty horse, well
equipped, and Pizarro found himself able to resume activity. He began
preparations at once for the march to Cuzco. The ransom was almost made
up, and it was thought best to divide it without delay and continue the
campaign rather than give the Peruvians time to conceal their treasures,
which, it was suspected, they were already doing. Before making the
division it was necessary to reduce the whole to ingots of uniform
standard, and resort was had to the Indian goldsmiths. They were set to
work, but so great was the amount that a month passed before the task
was finished. At last the splendid collection, representing years of
work and the highest skill of native art, was a common heap of bars.
These weighed, the Spaniards found themselves possessors of 1,326,539
_pesos de oro_, more than fifteen million dollars of our present
currency. To this there were 413,000 ounces of silver in addition.
The division was made with solemnity. The companies were formed in the
square, and after invoking the Divine blessing upon the transaction, a
fifth part--the royal fifth, it was called--was deducted to be sent to
the Emperor Charles. The remainder was divided among the members of the
expedition according to rank.
Cristoval found himself rich. His share would be worth to-day something
over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but the humblest pikeman
was more rejoiced than he. Peralta was not more indifferent to wealth
than any other normal man, but this gold!--it was befouled. It reeked
with the massacre. He surveyed the yellow bars as they lay in the
treasure room of the palace, and thought of the captive prince, his
friend. There he left it and went away, harassed by its allurement and
the ignominy of its ownership.
The treasure having thus been satisfactorily apportioned, with or
without the Divine blessing, the friends of Atahualpa held that his part
of the contract was fulfilled. Hernando Pizarro, whose friendship for
the monarch was outspoken, urged that he be given his promised liberty.
Pizarro demurred. The time was inopportune. Word had been brought by a
chief of the Canares, a friendly tribe encamped in the valley, that an
uprising was fomenting in the South. To release the Inca would be
perilous for the present, but it would be done once tranquillity was
assured. Meanwhile, the royal fifth must go to Spain. Would not
Hernando be the bearer? It would be the most favorable of introductions
at court, and if carried through with address, might lead to
something,--who could tell? Three hundred thousand pesos laid
gracefully at his Majesty's feet would smooth a way for the request, for
example, that Peru be made a viceroyalty. A title for Hernando himself
were not impossible.
The prospect was flattering, and the Inca's case easily laid aside.
Hernando went forthwith.
His departure removed one embarrassment from the design which the
commander secretly meditated in regard to the Inca, and which he knew
Hernando would oppose with vigor. He would still have equally stanch
supporters of the prisoner to deal with, but he trusted to circumstance
to overcome or remove their influence. De Soto was the most formidable
advocate of Atahualpa's cause. Soon after Hernando's departure, he and
Cristoval went to the commander. They found Almagro there, and
Riquelme, the royal treasurer, who had come with him from San Miguel.
Mendoza and one or two others came in shortly afterward.
"The Inca beginneth to chafe, General," said De Soto, "over his delayed
freedom. Several days have passed since the division of the ransom, but
he awaiteth intimation that his captivity is near its end. May I not
bear him some assurance?"
"Not now, Soto," replied Pizarro, impatiently. "Let him wait. As a
matter of fact, he hath not yet made up the amount he promised. It was
short, considerably, of reaching the line on the wall."
"What!" exclaimed De Soto, bluntly. "Wilt thou make excuse of that?
Thou knowest that waiting would have brought the full sum; and thou
knowest, besides, it will be made up tenfold when we reach Cuzco. A
poor pretext, Pizarro, I'll be bound!"
Pizarro shrugged. De Soto eyed him sharply, waiting for his response.
Pizarro shrugged again, and said: "_Bien_! I'll not hold the Inca for
that, Soto. I'll acquit him of the rest of the obligation, but ask not
his freedom now. Thou hast heard of the tribes in the South, and to-day
cometh news that an army lieth at Quito, with thirty thousand Caribs
ready to join. I doubt not that this Senor Inca is party to it. If it
so proveth, by Heaven, he shall pay dearly for his treachery!"
"Rumors and yet more rumors!" exclaimed De Soto, contemptuously.
"_Santa Madre_! How long shall we entertain these cries of wolf,
Pizarro? A rising of the Indios, forsooth! A spectre to be laid daily!
With five men I could ride to Cuzco. Give the order, and I will go."
Pizarro regarded him thoughtfully. "It might be well advised, Soto--not
with five men, but with thy troop; and not so far as Cuzco, but to
Guamachucho, whence the rumors come. The reconnaissance could be made
in a week--there and return. Let us say, ten days without hard
marching. Thou couldst start to-morrow? Very well.--And Peralta, thou
hast knowledge of the Quichua. _Excellente_! I will think of it."
When De Soto and Cristoval had departed Pizarro swore an oath. "But for
the qualms of those two and half-a-dozen others," he fumed, "we need not
fash ourselves about this accursed proud heathen king. I would snuff
him out, for by the faith! I had liefer trust myself with a wounded bear
than set him loose to bring his hordes to our destruction. He is a mad
bull held by the horns. I can neither hold him nor let him go. Were it
not for him we could be on the march to Cuzco; but as 't is, we dare not
leave him under such guard as we can spare, nor can safely take him with
us."
"Then why shilly-shally?" demanded Almagro. "A bit of steel between his
ribs, or a hitch of rope about his neck, and we are disencumbered. My
life! I see no complexity in that."
"But De Soto hath his troop at his back, Almagro, and an embroglio now
would put us in bad case. Many of the men would be but lukewarm for the
Inca's death. Since they have his gold they shout, '_Viva el Inca!_'
and affect a friendliness."
"Ah!" scoffed Riquelme. "The fleeting dim gratitude of jackals with
bellies full! 'T is easily chilled. Stir up fresh rumors. Incite
alarms. Put them forty-eight hours under arms on guard, then hear them
yelp and snarl. When they bay in full chorus, bring charges against the
Inca. Try him in court with all grave show and pertinent solemnity.
When De Soto and Peralta return, show them a royal grave."
"The soul and essence of good counsel, Riquelme, and most crisply put!"
exclaimed Almagro, half admiringly, half in contempt. "Thou 'rt a man
of parts, my friend, and fit to intrigue with cardinals, prime
ministers, and favorites of kings--or to be a barrister! Ha! Leave it
to Riquelme, Pizarro."
Pizarro looked from one to another without replying. He smiled, and his
smile was not pleasant to look upon. Instructing the sentinel at the
door that no one should be admitted, he drew his chair close to his
visitors.
The council was long. At its close Pizarro said: "Well, think upon it
overnight and come again to-morrow. There are charges enough to answer
our purpose, and we have only to put them into form. _Cara_! This
device is luckily hit upon, Senores, and we'll perfect its members. Say
not a word of it to any man. Now I'll issue an order for De Soto's
march. That was a hint opportunely offered. He was in the way, and,
curse him! I saw no means of being quit of his importunities.--_Adios_,
gentlemen. I thank you for your good counsel."
De Soto received marching orders that evening, and he and Cristoval
spent the greater part of the night in the preparation of the troop. In
the morning, Cristoval hurried to take leave of the Inca. The hour was
early, and the latter had not come from his private apartments. After a
few minutes' conversation with the nobles in the anteroom of the small
salon where Atahualpa received his friends informally, Cristoval
entered. In a moment he saw the nobles sink to their knees. Their
sovereign was approaching. Atahualpa paused for a word of greeting, and
entered the room where the cavalier stood waiting. Seeing Cristoval in
full armor, he asked anxiously as he advanced,--
"What is this, Viracocha Cristoval? Thou 'rt equipped as for battle! I
trust nothing hath occurred, or is about to occur."
"Nothing, my lord. I have come to bid you a short farewell. I go with
De Soto on a few days' journey. We ride to Guamachucho."
"To Guamachucho! Why to Guamachucho?"
"Merely to prove to Pizarro that another rumor which hath reached his
ears is without foundation, my Lord Inca. He gave his promise yesterday
to release you the moment he feeleth secure, and we go to hasten his
assurance. We will return to see you at liberty and rejoice with you,
my lord."
Atahualpa made no immediate reply, but stood with arms folded, his eyes
bent gloomily upon the floor. At length he asked, "Your going is
voluntary?"
"Entirely so, my Lord Inca. It was De Soto's suggestion. He offered, to
prove the good will of your people, to ride to Cuzco almost alone. So
long a journey being needless, we make this shorter one."
The cloud deepened upon the Inca's brow. Finally he said, half
meditatively: "I fear it is unfortunate. The Viracocha Hernando, who, I
believe, was my friend, hath gone. Now thou and De Soto go. I would it
were otherwise, Viracocha Cristoval."
Cristoval divined the cause of his misgiving. "Nay, my lord," he said
earnestly, "the circumstance hath no import, believe me. You have many
other friends in the army. Yesterday I heard the soldiers shouting,
'Long live the Inca!' Moreover, Pizarro hath given you formal quittance
of your ransom. Have you not heard of it?"
"I have heard."
"You will receive the paper to-day; and now nothing delayeth your
liberty but Pizarro's uneasiness about the feeling among your subjects.
We shall remove that uncertainty, and when we meet again, my lord, it
will be on the eve of your freedom."
Atahualpa turned his dark eyes upon him. "My friend," he said gravely,
"we shall not meet again!--Nay, hear me! I know what thou wouldst say,
but I am right. This is our last meeting.--Be silent!" he interrupted,
with some sternness, when Cristoval essayed to speak. "I do not say
this to hear thy protests; and let us not waste words, for time is
fleeting. When you return, I shall be--not here. I have been
forewarned. My life is near its close. Enough! I do not fear to die. I
would say naught of this, but there is something I would ask of thee."
He paused, and for a moment his eyes looked searchingly into those of
the cavalier. When he resumed it was as if satisfied with the scrutiny,
and he spoke in the tone he might have used to a brother.
"There is something I would ask of thee. Thou hast been my friend, as I
believe in my heart. Of all these unknown around me I have felt that I
know thee, Viracocha Cristoval, and I know that I can entrust to thee
now my dearest wish. It is this: I shall leave behind me many loved
ones, and among them the Nusta Rava. Promise me thou wilt be to her what
thou wouldst wish a friend to be to thy best beloved sister. Toparca
hath not his strength. None of my people can aid her as well as thou in
time of need. Guard her life until thou canst convey her to safety.
Above all, guard her honor. Promise me this. Nay, promise me more. She
will be surrounded by a thousand perils--give thy word thou'lt be ready
to lay down thy life to save her unharmed; and, should all else fail,
that thou wilt, at the end of hope, plunge thy dagger to her heart,
rather than surrender her to dishonor. Give me thy promise. I ask it
as a soldier of a soldier, Viracocha Cristoval."
Cristoval, moved to the depths of his chivalrous soul by the earnest
appeal of this splendid despot, who had never before laid aside his
majesty to ask a boon of mortal man, but who now addressed him with a
brother's prayer for the sanctity of his sister, offered his hand. It
was taken by the monarch, and for the moment they stood regarding one
another, no longer as prince and conquistador, Inca and Spaniard, but as
men.
"My Lord Inca," said Cristoval, "I swear by all I hold most sacred to
spare neither my blood nor my life in her defence!"
"It is enough, my friend. I thank thee. I demand much of thy
friendship. How I can ask it of one who hath come with mine enemies,
with full assurance that I ask it not in vain, only He who shineth into
all men's hearts can say. I trust thee, Viracocha Cristoval. Now go!
May the infinite and unknown Pachacamac watch over thee! Farewell. But
wait--take this!--it will serve thee." He unwound the _llautu_ from his
head and detached a bit of its crimson fringe. "Preserve it! It will
be thy safeguard to the farthest borders of Tavantinsuyu. Farewell!"
*CHAPTER XII*
_*Vengeance Foiled*_
Although Cristoval could not share the Inca's mistrust of Pizarro's
faith, he was profoundly impressed by his words of farewell, spoken with
such firm conviction. They saddened him despite his confidence in his
commander, and as he crossed the court his steps lagged while he
pondered the possibility of remaining in Caxamalca. His deliberation
was ended by the trumpets of his troop sounding in the plaza. It was
too late now, at any rate, and he hurried on. He was arrested by
hearing his name called timidly, and turning, saw one of the Princess
Rava's maidens hastening toward him.
"Viracocha," she said, "my mistress sendeth greeting, and prayeth a few
words."
"Most gladly," replied Cristoval. "Wilt lead me to her?"
He followed her to the garden, and a few paces brought them to the
princess. She rose as they approached, and Cristoval regarded her with
new interest. He noted with sympathy the traces of care and grief,
wondering at the heightened womanliness they had produced, and suddenly
recognizing in her that rare nature whose gentlest and fairest
attributes are perfected by sorrow. Cristoval had not known many good
women in his adventurous career, but he had discovered this quality with
increased reverence for womankind. He observed it now in this girl of a
strange and new-found race, and thought to himself, "Well, God save
them, they are all sisters, whatever their blood--and the burden of
sorrow worked by men's misdeeds falleth always most heavily upon them!"
As he drew near he was struck more than ever by her beauty, which had
impressed him at first by its warmth and exuberance. Now, softened and
chastened by sadness, the fire and pride which had once shone in her
dark eyes had given way to a gentle pathos and appeal which touched his
kindly heart. As he bent over the extended hand he renewed to himself
the vow he had made to her brother a short while before.
"Viracocha Cristoval," she said, with hesitation, "I am sure that you
will pardon my sending for you. I have just learned that you are going
away."
"For a short journey, Nusta Rava."
"I pray it may be a safe one," she answered. "I will delay you only a
moment. I would ask if you can tell me aught of the fate in store for
my brother, the Inca." She looked up to him with eyes deepening with
anxiety, and faltered, "He will say nothing, but I can see his sadness,
which hath grown upon him with every day of deferred hope since the
payment of his ransom. Hath he cause for this? Do you know, Viracocha
Cristoval?"
"I know nothing, Nusta Rava, to cause him apprehension. On the contrary,
General Pizarro hath renewed his promise to give him freedom, and, we
trust, in a very few days. I have told him this, but he rejecteth the
offered hope. He saith he hath been forewarned of pending evil. I know
not how."
"Alas! Said he so?" moaned the princess, her eyes filling. "Then what
I have been told is true! Ah, my unhappy brother!" and she sank sobbing
upon the bench.
"What hath she been told?" demanded Cristoval, turning to the maid; but
the girl, too, was in tears, and incapable of reply. He stepped to
Rava's side. "Nusta Rava," he said urgently, "pray tell me. Is it
anything of evil from Pizarro regarding the Inca? If so--"
She shook her head. "No, no!" she replied, brokenly; "but a few
evenings ago he beheld a falling star of unusual splendor, and called to
mind that shortly before the death of our father a similar sign was
given. The death of an Inca is heralded by strange portents,
Viracocha."
Cristoval was relieved. "Nay, my princess!" he said consolingly, "heed
it not. Such signs are but the wiles of the devil--are but chance
appearances. I have seen a thousand falling stars. They are for
children and old women to talk about at firesides. Oh, I beg of you,
restrain your tears! Take courage! Hear me, Nusta Rava! De Soto and
myself and half-a-score of others have witnessed Pizarro's oath to set
your brother free. He awaiteth only assurance that your people are at
peace. A few days hence the Inca shall have his liberty. Pizarro is a
man of honor."
She controlled herself with an effort, and, brushing away her tears,
presently looked up. "Forgive my weakness, Viracocha Cristoval. I fear
my heart is overburdened. One blow hath fallen upon another until the
world is dark."
"I know what your sorrows have been," replied Cristoval, kindly, "but I
believe one, at least, is near its end."
"Oh, I thank you for your words of hope!" she murmured. "I feared that a
change in your leader's purpose had brought my brother's heaviness of
heart. I will try to cheer him."
"Do so. Assure him that he hath other friends among Spaniards besides
myself. It is true."
"He is sure of you, Viracocha Cristoval," she said gratefully. "But
now, let me keep you no longer. I heard a trumpet some minutes ago. It
called you, did it not?"
"It called me, Nusta Rava."
"Then you must go. I pray the Sun may brighten your way and give you
safe return."
"Farewell, and Heaven guard you, Nusta Rava!" He touched her fingers
with his lips and hastened away.
As he passed up the avenue the trumpets were sounding the "Mount," and
in his haste he failed to notice a burly figure in the shelter of a
by-path. It was Mendoza. He had been waiting Pizarro's return from
seeing the departure of De Soto's troop, and, presuming upon the
commander's determination to make away with the Inca, whom Mendoza
already considered as good as dead, he had invaded the forbidden
precincts of the garden. Perceiving Cristoval and the Princess Rava, he
had stepped unobserved into the shrubbery, and watched the interview
with a scowling sneer.
"Aha, my conscientious buck cavalier!" he muttered, peering out as
Cristoval strode away. "Stolen meetings with Her Highness? Tears and
kissed hands at parting? By the fiend, that smelleth of romance!--And we
have been wondering at thy continence, thou cursed sly dog, whilst thou
hast been spreading thy net for the very pick of the flock! Oho! But
wait!--let us see, _amigo mio_! Methinks the cards are to be dealt
again, and thou'lt have no hand.--And thou dost nurse so charitable an
interest in the Senorita Nusta's brother? Hum! And I have stumbled
upon its source thus unexpectedly? Even so! _Bien_! But, _adios_, my
gallant. Thou'lt find more than one change on thy return to
Caxamalca,--among others, a division of spoil upon which thou 'rt not
counting, whereof I see a pearl to which I'll lay claim in Pizarro's ear
this very morning.--She cometh this way, now! I'll step out and give
her greeting. Curse me! why have I not learned a few words of her
heathen tongue? I know but three,--_curi_, gold; _collque_, silver; and
_chicha_. Good words, but not suited to the present need. However, _no
importa_--let it pass. Much can be said in dumb show. We'll make it
answer. Now, let us see if we cannot be made to forget our Cristoval."
Giving a twirl to his mustachios and a touch to the sallow ruff around
his neck, Mendoza stepped into the avenue, and made a well-feigned start
of surprise when his eyes rested upon the approaching princess. Off
came Mendoza's sombrero, and he bowed until its plume lay on the ground.
"Your gracious Highness," he murmured in Spanish, with his hand on his
heart, "I am your slave. The devil take me if I know how to make you
understand it, but 't is so, my lady bird, my chickadee, and I would
swear it, could I but formulate an oath which you could grasp in your
benightedness."
The princess, happily unconscious of the disrespect in the words, but
indignant at his intrusion, responded with a barely perceptible
inclination of her head, and passed on. But Mendoza was not to be easily
rebuffed. Striding after her, he gained her side.
"But stay, my haughty pagan lady!" he exclaimed, his forced smile only
half concealing the wickedness in his eyes. "Not so fast, pretty one!
Let us talk;--or if we cannot talk, let us make signs. _Caramba_! Let
us be acquainted!" and he placed his hand upon her arm.
The princess shrank as if from a reptile, turning with a look of
indignant scorn that daunted even the case-hardened Mendoza, while a
scream from the maid brought him fully to his senses. He halted, and
Rava went her way with burning cheeks, leaving the Spaniard staring
after her discomfited.
"_Jesu!_" he exclaimed, beneath his breath. He replaced his sombrero
over one ear and spread his legs wide apart, one hand upon his hip, the
other depressing the hilt of his rapier until its point rose to the
level of his shoulder.
"_Cara_! There is a sudden chilliness hereabouts. Did I feel a cool
breeze from the mountains, or was it a freezing glance? No matter,
Senorita Nusta Rava, my dark beauty--no matter! We'll score that in the
account against this Cristoval. And, withal, proud loveliness is much
to my taste. There's a zest in subjugating.--_Hola_! Who the devil is
this?"
Pedro, crossing the lower end of the court, had met the princess, and
noticing her indignation and the trepidation of her maid, suspected that
some drunken soldier had been trespassing. He stepped quickly through
the shrubbery and came upon Mendoza, still in his jaunty pose. Pedro
divined the situation in the instant. Halting, he tilted his toque over
his ear, placed his hand upon his hip, spread his good leg wide from its
fellow, and stood surveying Mendoza with concentrated insolence, in a
grotesque caricature of the latter's attitude. Mendoza, in turn,
regarded the cook in surprise, then colored with anger as he realized
the tableau in which he was taking part. He adjusted himself hastily
and opened his lips to deliver an imprecation upon the cook's head. He
thought better of it, remembering Pizarro's stern order against
intrusion upon the privacy of the garden, and an injunction, yet more
stern, against affronting the women of the court. He swallowed the curse
for discretion's sake, and in the effort produced a grimace which he
hoped Pedro might accept for a smile.
"Thou 'rt a droll fellow, Pedro," he said with forced lightness, and
stalked away. Pedro followed him with his eyes, his attitude unchanged.
"Ah!" he growled. "A droll fellow, am I not, thou scurvy picaroon! Had
I my blade thou shouldst find me twice more droll, my dastardly
rough-handler of women, for I would tickle thy ribs most humorously
before thou shouldst leave this garden. Slink off, caught-dog! I'll
have an eye on thee.--A droll fellow! By the faith, it must be so, for
naught but drollery could wrench a smile so misbegotten, crump, and
bandy as that of thine! Thou didst grin like a kicked hat. An old boot
could smile more mirthfully. Pedro must be droll, to give thee such a
toad's smirk, Mendoza!" He straightened his toque and stumped back to
his quarters.