The first meeting between the fallen Emperor and his household was
pathetic in its silent tragedy. The sight of his chains was incredible.
His weeping wives stared in anguish.
He sought as best he could to soothe their grief and terror.
“I have the assurance of their leader that this will be but a brief
trial. He has promised me his protection and his friendship. He saved
my life in the struggle in the square. His words carry conviction in
spite of the horrors of last night.”
He was careful not to lift his arms. He knew the clanking of the chains
would greatly distress the women.
In answer to the chorus of sobs from his wives, he sternly commanded:
“No more of this noise! If I can bear the shame of it all, surely you
have enough pride to show our enemies we are not weaklings. Go to your
apartments, I would speak to my mother.”
Yma led the trembling, weeping women to the rooms assigned them and
then hastened to return for Pacha.
No sooner had the girl disappeared than the Inca rose and opened his
manacled arms. The proud mother’s iron will gave way at the ominous
sound. With a sob she flung herself on his breast and wept. He soothed
her with gentle words.
“Come now, my glorious mother. You have taught me to be brave. I expect
it of you. I should be the one in tears when I see your grief. Your
eyes were wiser than mine. I was blinded by power and pride.”
“Even I could not dream this horror, my son. Surely our God will yet
strike down the fiends who have done us this wrong.”
Yma entered with quick tread and gently released Pacha’s arms.
“I must speak to you, my Lord of the Sun.”
He caught the accent of excitement under which she labored and smiled
sadly.
“You would ask me of another prisoner in chains. Speak, my beautiful
Sun Virgin--you ask his freedom?”
“No, my Lord,” was the low answer. “It is best that he be held until we
see the purpose of these men who have dared to place you in chains. My
god-man is sad at the news of the butchery in the Square. His heart is
gentle and strong as the steel of his bright sword. I do not think he
wishes freedom at this moment. The knowledge of his imprisonment and
chains would give these fiends a new excuse for murder. I do not ask
his freedom....”
“What then, my child?”
“It is of you, my Lord, I think and plan. Be of good cheer and keep
your courage. News has just come of the final battle in the south
between your general, Challcuchima, and the armies of Huascar’s nobles.
Your victory is complete.”
The Inca shook his massive head.
“The irony of it! A final victory in the hour of my shame!”
“A sign, my Lord, of the favor of heaven in this dark time. The priests
in the temples are making sacrifice and praying for your deliverance.”
The dowager’s face brightened.
“A sign from Heaven, my son!”
“When Challcuchima at the head of his victorious army learns of this
outrage on your person he will march to your rescue.”
She dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Toparca has already sent swift couriers flying.”
The Inca’s eyes flamed.
“This to cheer your heart,” the girl smiled. “I’ve a deeper plan. At
the approach of your army you must be free to put yourself at their
head. If in chains these devils will make your life the price of
attack.”
“What then?” the Inca asked in a tense voice.
“These white men say they worship a God. They do with their lips
perhaps. But the God of their hearts is Gold. I watched their hands
clutch it like trembling claws. You have gold beyond their dreams. You
can buy your freedom before Challcuchima’s army appears and all will
yet be well.”
The Inca gazed at the girl long and curiously.
“I wonder that God has given such deep wisdom to a mere girl, my fair
Virgin of the Sun. You begged me not to come here. You begged that I
come armed. I could not see it. Now you point the way to freedom. The
only way perhaps. You are wise--strangely wise.”
“I have learned wisdom perhaps from the heart of my god-man. I beg of
you, my Lord of the Sun, to act quickly. The news of your capture will
reach Huascar at Andamarca to-day. It is but a few miles. In spite of
his prison walls he has yet the power to regain his throne while the
people are paralyzed with terror over the doings of the white men. I
beg of you to send an order that his guard be doubled.”
“Send it for me,” he commanded.
“And you will offer these men a ransom beyond all their dreams?”
“At once. Go dispatch my orders to Andamarca.”
The girl hurried to a hidden entrance of the lower fortress on the
mountainside and dispatched her most trusted guard.
The Dowager carried the request to Pizarro for an immediate conference
with her royal son. She was compelled to wait.
The commander was in conference with his brother Hernando and De Soto
over the new situation. Francisco was anxious to begin the march on
Cuzco, the rich capital of the South. If its claim of two hundred
thousand inhabitants was correct it was as great as any city in the
Empire of Charles V, and the wild stories of its treasures might be
true.
De Soto warned of the dangers.
“Remember, Francisco, the distance is great--at least seven hundred
miles. The way across the _cordillera_ may be blocked by a few
hostile troops. Our force is small. Our fighting force will be greatly
reduced by the reason of guarding our powerful prisoner. We must have
recruits before we move.”
The commander saw the wisdom of the advice and dispatched a message
immediately to San Miguel reporting his success, his still precarious
position, and asking for reënforcements at the earliest possible moment.
The courier had just been sent when the Dowager made her second request.
Hernando Pizarro scowled.
“Could she have heard?”
“Not unless these stone walls three feet thick have ears,” De Soto
answered.
With surprise and a little uneasiness the three men entered the room in
which Atahualpa was confined.
They saw at once that he was laboring under excitement and put
themselves on guard against surprise.
The Inca spoke with studied deliberation yet could not keep out of his
voice the emotion that stirred his heart.
“In the struggle, gentlemen, you have won. I have lost. The adroitness
of your sudden attack and my capture I acknowledge a master stroke.
I have known of your progress from the day of your landing. I
underestimated your strength. I see my error and will make you a royal
offer for my freedom.”
He paused and searched the faces of his captors. There was no mistaking
the interest with which they had received the statement.
“And what is your offer?” Francisco Pizarro inquired.
“For my freedom,” was the prompt reply, “I will pave this room with
bricks of gold--solid gold!”
The three men looked at each other in amazement at the absurd proposal
and gave no answer for the moment. What could he be up to, was the
first thought that flashed through Pizarro’s mind. There was a trick in
it somewhere--the proposal could not be serious.
Seeing their hesitation, and mistaking its meaning, the Inca stood on
tiptoe, lifted his manacled hand to the highest point on the wall that
he could touch, and said:
“I will fill this room with gold as high as I can reach for my freedom.
What say you?”
The Spaniards stared in amazement. It could only be the insane boast of
a man unhinged by his imprisonment. No such ransom had ever been paid
in the history of the western world. Their minds could not conceive of
such a pile of precious metal.
“If the reports we have heard of the treasures of the temple of Cuzco
be true,” Francisco admitted, “it might be possible.”
“It’s nonsense,” Hernando replied. “It’s a trick to win his freedom and
strike us a death blow.”
“He’s in dead earnest,” De Soto maintained.
Francisco Pizarro faced Atahualpa and spoke sternly.
“You mean this?”
“Certainly,” was the quick answer. “I can make good my agreement within
two moons. The wealth of my capital alone will supply my ransom. The
roofs of the temples are plated with gold. Their gardens are set with
shrubs and trees of solid gold. The very floors are inlaid with gold
tiles. And I can draw my treasure from the far corners of my Empire.”
Again the leaders conferred.
“I can see no danger in accepting his offer,” Francisco Pizarro
ventured.
“Its collection at least,” said Hernando, “will prevent it being hidden
by the natives.”
The secretary was called as witness and Francisco Pizarro solemnly
accepted the offer. Its terms were duly recorded by the official who
drew a red line around the entire walls of the room at the height
indicated. The space was twenty-two feet long, and sixteen feet wide.
The line was nine feet from the floor.
When the Inca observed the excitement of Pizarro and the care with
which the space was marked he interposed a single provision for his own
protection.
“I only ask that I be allowed to fill the space with vessels of pure
gold before they are melted. My offer does not mean that the space
shall be filled with square melted ingots.”
“Agreed,” was Pizarro’s prompt response.
The longer he talked with the monarch the firmer became his conviction
that the stupendous thing might be done.
Hernando Pizarro bethought himself of a new condition that might offset
in a small measure the loss by the clause allowing the vessels stored
before melting.
“You have also much silver,” he remarked to Atahualpa.
“Yes, much.”
“We ask then, that you fill the adjoining room twice full of silver in
like manner.”
“Agreed.”
In the contract the Inca solemnly bound himself to permit no movement
of his troops during the two months in which the ransom was being
collected.
To show his good faith, he called a courier and sent the royal order
immediately to Challcuchima, his commanding general, directing his
troops, under no circumstances, to stir from their camp for two months
unless by his personal order.
Pizarro responded by striking the chains from Atahualpa’s limbs.
“I allow you the freedom of your apartments, attended by your wives and
mother,” the commander agreed. “And more. Your privacy shall not be
disturbed. And your subjects shall have free access to your person to
pay their homage.”
The Inca bowed in appreciation of the privileges granted and hastened
to fulfill his contract.
Swift messengers flew to the limits of the empire and from north and
south, east and west, streams of gold began to pour into the hands of
the Spaniards. It was a thing unbelievable and yet it was happening
before their eyes.