hardship, mental anguish, famine; he was certain that he could become
master of the gentle Peruvians, and so was determined to crush any
obstacles which came in his path and obstructed this ambition. So
far, his conduct had been noble, his treatment of his friends and
companions had been just, his own cheerfulness and self control had
been commendable. Let us see how he conducted himself, when he had
secured that for which he sought?
Taking passage for Spain, he appeared at the Spanish Court with two
or three llamas, several natives, and specimens of the woolen cloth
and gold and silver ornaments of the Peruvians, to bear witness to
his tales of this wonderful country. The King lent a ready ear to
his request for assistance; he was empowered to conquer and take
possession of Peru in the name of Spain; and was requested to transport
many priests along with him, in order to convert the Indians to the
Roman Catholic religion. The ignorant swine-herd, in fact, had become
a man of some merit and mark, which so greatly pleased his four
half-brothers—who possessed the high-sounding names of Hernando,
Gonzalo, Juan, and Francisco de Alcantara—that they all desired to
follow him to this land of the llama and the snow-capped mountains.
“Hurray for brother Francisco,” said they. “He will make us all rich!
Hurray and God be with him!”
Finally, two hundred and fifty men were gathered for the conquest of
Peru. The Pizarros set sail for Panama—it was a family party now—and
soon all were again upon the shores of the New World. Three ships were
speedily loaded with equipment and provisions, and, with one hundred
and eighty followers and twenty-seven horses, the Spanish free-booters
and adventurers sailed for the Bay of St. Matthew. They landed, and
immediately started operations in the usual high-handed and brutal
manner of the Spanish conqueror.
The little band of cut-throats went ashore and advanced along the
coast, while the three ships drifted along in a parallel line, keeping
as close inshore as discretion would permit. When the Castilians
reached a town of some importance, they would rush in upon the
inhabitants, sword in hand, and would cut down all who opposed them.
The poor, frightened natives would run away tumultuously, while the
Pizarro brothers, and other Castilian robbers, would collect all the
gold and silver ornaments that they could find. Many emeralds were also
secured, which were sent to the ships, and back to Panama, in order
to impress those who were left behind with the fact that the army was
really accomplishing something. It was also done for the effect that it
would produce upon the irate and unaccommodating Governor.
The Spaniards suffered greatly from the heat, for the sun beat
upon their iron breastplates and quilted cotton doublets with most
uncomfortable fury. In spite of this, they kept on, and, as they
advanced, the natives fled before them.
They spent the rainy season upon an island; but, when the weather grew
clear again, being reënforced by a hundred volunteers from Panama and
more horses, they again crossed to the mainland and resumed their
former operations.
They advanced to the town of Tumbez, expecting to find a rich and
populous city; but, greatly to their surprise, they saw that this
Peruvian stronghold had been burned and abandoned, owing to a recent
disagreement between the inhabitants and the followers of the Inca.
This ruler, Atahuallpa Capac, had fallen out with his brother, Huascar,
and had advanced into his country in order to humiliate him and to
become master of all Peru. Pizarro immediately made up his mind to
march and capture the Inca Atahuallpa, himself, and to seize all of
Peru for the Crown of Spain.
Some years before, the country had been conquered by a native soldier
and statesman, named Huayna Capac, who left three sons: Huascar,
the heir, and son of the Queen; Manco Capac, a half-brother; and
Atahuallpa, a son of the Princess Quito. At the death of Huayna Capac,
the kingdom was divided into two parts; Huascar succeeding to the
empire of Peru, Atahuallpa to the empire of Quito. The latter was of a
warlike disposition; the former was gentle and retiring. They thus did
not long remain at peace with one another, for, Atahuallpa coveted the
land of his brother, advanced to take it, and, after a great battle,
in which he was victorious, overran, with his adherents, all the
territory of his rival. This had all happened only a short time before
Pizarro had landed, and the ruins of Tumbez bore full witness to the
ruthlessness of the Inca’s wrath.
The conqueror, it was said, was but twelve days’ journey inland, so the
Castilians struck boldly into the country, where they were everywhere
received with hospitality by the natives. The invaders were now careful
to give no offense, for they were very few and were surrounded by many
thousands, who could quickly annihilate them, should they so wish.
An Indian gave Pizarro a scroll, as they advanced, upon which had
been written: “Know, whoever you may be, that may chance to set foot
in this country, that it contains more silver and gold than there is
iron in Biscay.” This was shown to the soldiers, but they laughed
good-humoredly at it, believing that it was only a device of their
leader to give them confidence and hope.
Pizarro halted his men, after five days of marching, and told them that
the expedition was to be a hazardous one and that those who wished to
retire could do so. Nine of the soldiers availed themselves of this
opportunity to turn away from what lay in front, and, thus rid of what
would undoubtedly be a dangerous element, the daring explorer pressed
onward. He reached the foot of the great mountains which tower above
the plains of Peru, and, sending forward a cavalier to speak with
Atahuallpa, received word from this native ruler that he would be
delighted to entertain the Spaniards at his camp in the mountains.
The little army now toiled up the steep slopes of the Cordilleras and
came to many fortresses of stone which overhung their path, and where
a mere handful of men, with little difficulty, could have barred their
way. All was quiet and deserted, for luck was with this adventurer,
and finally his band of treasure-seekers reached the summit of the
mountains. An Indian messenger appeared from the Inca, who requested
that he be informed when the Spaniards would reach Caxamalca, where
they were to be entertained by the proud and imperious Atahuallpa.
The messenger spoke glowingly of the might of his master; but Pizarro
assured him that the King of Spain was the mightiest monarch under
the sun, and that his servants would convince the Inca that they bore
nothing but messages of good will from their master in far distant
Castile.
The Spaniards marched onward for two days, then began to descend the
eastern side of the Cordilleras, where they met a second envoy from the
Inca. Seven days later the valley of Caxamalca lay before them, and,
to the startled eyes of these adventurers, came the vision of several
miles of white tents: those of the Inca’s followers. Pizarro put on
a bold front, marched towards the encampment, and, sending forward a
cavalier with thirty-five horsemen to the Inca’s pavilion, entered the
outskirts of the town of Caxamalca. The Peruvian nobility was in the
courtyard, so, tramping onward, the Spanish adventurers passed through
a long line of nobles to where Atahuallpa himself sat upon a low stool,
distinguished by a crimson ribbon bound around his forehead, which he
had placed there after the defeat of his brother, Huascar.
Pizarro rode up to the monarch of the Peruvian wilds, and, bowing in
a lowly and respectful manner, informed him that he was the subject
of the mighty Prince across the ocean, and that, attracted by the
report of the warlike prowess of the Inca, he had come to offer him his
services and those of his men, and to impart to him the doctrines of
true faith, which they professed. He also invited Atahuallpa to visit
him in his own encampment.
The Inca seemed to be dazed, and listened with his eyes fixed upon the
ground. One of his nobles then said: “It is well.”
“Can you not speak for yourself,” asked Pizarro, turning to the Inca,
“and tell me what is your desire?”
At this the proud native smiled faintly, and replied, through an
interpreter:
“I am keeping a fast which will end to-morrow morning. I will then
visit you. In the meantime, pray occupy the public buildings on the
square and no other, until I order what shall be done.”
Pizarro bowed. At that moment one of his soldiers, who was mounted upon
a fiery steed, touched it with his spurs and galloped away. Whirling
around, he dashed back through the crowd of natives and drew rein
before the immobile Atahuallpa, who never, for an instant, lost his
composure. Several of his soldiers, however, shrank back in manifest
terror as this strange creature passed by, for such a wonderful animal
had never been seen before in this country. The Spaniards now left,
and, after they had departed, all of those who had shown fear of the
galloping horse in the presence of the strangers, were put to death by
order of the Inca.
That night Pizarro perfected his plan for the capture of Atahuallpa. He
saw that, should he give battle to the Inca in the open field, it would
doubtless end in disastrous defeat for the Spaniards, as the natives
far out-numbered this handful of Castilians. His only chance for
victory seemed to be to capture the Inca, to hold him prisoner, and
to intimidate the vast horde of natives, by threat of death to their
ruler, if they attacked the Spanish invaders. He therefore determined
to entice the native to the building in which he and his men were
lodged, which was built upon a square courtyard. His soldiers were to
remain hidden around the central court, and, when Atahuallpa and his
retainers should be in the very middle of the square, the Spaniards
were to rush in upon him, and, putting the Peruvians to the sword, were
to seize the unfortunate native ruler and hold him fast. This was the
bold conception of this heartless adventurer, a veritable dare-devil,
whose conscience was free from the lofty and proper conceptions of
brotherly love.
The night was a quiet one. The Spaniards made a careful inspection
of their arms and equipment, loaded all their guns, and stationed
themselves at the places designated by their artful leader. At dawn
they were ready, but it was late in the day before the Inca approached.
He was preceded by a native courier, who informed Pizarro that his
master was coming armed, even as the Spaniards had come to him.
“Tell your master,” said the Castilian, “that come as he may, I will
receive him as a friend and a brother.”
Shortly afterwards the procession approached. First came a large number
of natives, who had brooms in their hands and who swept all rubbish
from the roadway. Then came a crowd of Peruvian soldiers. In their
center the Inca was carried aloft upon a litter, surrounded by his
nobles, who wore quantities of golden ornaments which glittered and
gleamed in the sunshine. The Peruvian army followed, and, when they
had all arrived within half a mile of the gate to the city, Pizarro was
startled to see them halt. They seemed to be preparing to encamp, and
a runner came to the courtyard, stating that the Inca had decided to
delay his entrance into the city until the following morning.
“Tell your master,” said Pizarro, “that I have provided a feast for his
entertainment, and that my followers will be grievously disappointed if
he does not come to visit us this day.”
The runner went away, and Pizarro beat his foot upon the floor in
anxious solicitude, for, should the Inca not come at this time, he
feared that he would not be able to control his own followers, who had
been under arms since daylight.
To the delight of the Spanish, a second runner now approached, who
announced that the Inca would meet the white men; but would bring into
the town with him only a few unarmed warriors. Pizarro breathed easier,
and then inspected his followers, finding that all were in their places
and eager for the attack.
The day was wearing to a close. Deep shadows from the gabled ends
of the ancient buildings fell upon the courtyard, as the Peruvians,
chanting their songs of triumph, entered the city gate and
unsuspectingly marched onward to their destruction. Atahuallpa was in
an open litter, lined with the brilliantly colored plumes of tropical
birds and studded with burnished plates of gold and of silver. Around
his neck hung a collar of large and brilliant emeralds. His dress was
of the richest silk. At this time he was about thirty years of age and
had a fine frame, a large and handsome head; but bloodshot eyes, which
gave him a fierce and vindictive appearance. His bearing was calm, yet
dignified, and he gazed upon the natives about him as one accustomed to
command. He was surrounded by nobles, who were clad in blue uniforms
studded with gold.
The procession entered the great square of the house which had been
assigned to the Spaniard, but not a Castilian soldier was there. Only
a priest, Father Valverde, Pizarro’s Chaplain, was to be seen. He came
forward, bible in hand, and, walking to the Inca’s litter, began to
explain to him the doctrines of the Christian religion.
“The Pope at Rome has commissioned the Emperor of Spain to conquer
and to convert the inhabitants of this western world,” said he to the
Inca, “and I beseech you, therefore, to embrace the Christian faith and
acknowledge yourself a tributary to the Emperor Charles of Spain, who
will aid and protect you as a loyal vassal.”
As he spoke, fire flashed from the eyes of Atahuallpa, and he answered:
“I will be no man’s tributary. I am far greater than any Prince on
earth. Your own Emperor may be a great prince, I do not doubt it when
I see that he has sent his subjects so far across the waters, and I am
willing to hold him as a brother. As for the Pope of whom you speak,
he must certainly be insane to give away countries which do not belong
to him. As for my faith, I will not change it. Your own God, you say,
was put to death by the very men whom he trusted, but mine”—here he
stretched out his hand towards the setting sun—“my God still lives in
the heavens and looks down upon his children. By what authority, man of
Spain, do you say these things?”
The friar pointed to the well-worn bible which he held in his hand.
The Inca took it, looked at it for an instant, and then threw it
violently down, exclaiming: “Tell your comrades that they shall give
an account of their doings in my land. I will not go from here until
they have given me full satisfaction for all the wrongs which they have
committed.”
This startled Valverde, and, rushing to Pizarro, he cried out:
“Do you not see that, while we stand here wasting our breath in talking
with this dog—full of pride as he is—the fields behind him are
filling up with his Indian allies? Set upon him at once, I absolve you.”
Pizarro smiled, for he saw that the moment to strike had arrived. So he
waved a white scarf, a gun was fired as a signal for the attack, and
from every opening, the Spaniards poured into the great square, sword
in hand, shouting their old battle-cry: “St. Iago and at them!”
A few cannon, which they had dragged up the mountain slopes with much
stress and difficulty, were turned upon the startled Peruvians, and
were discharged. The Indians were unarmed and were taken totally by
surprise. Stunned by the noise of the artillery and blinded with
smoke, they rushed hither and thither in confusion, as the Spanish
free-booters pressed in upon every side.
Fierce and agonizing cries went up from the courtyard, as nobles and
Peruvian soldiers were ruthlessly cut down and trampled under the feet
of the Spanish horsemen. So great, indeed, was the impact of these
writhing Indians when they were pressed back against the wall of clay
and stone, which surrounded the courtyard, that they broke through it,
and, clambering over the débris, rushed headlong into the open country,
hotly pursued in every direction by the Castilian cavalrymen, who cut
them down with their sharp broadswords.
Meanwhile, what of the Inca, for the possession of whose body the
invaders were making such a desperate effort?
Atahuallpa sat as if stunned. His litter was forced this way and
that by the swaying throng, while his native attendants faithfully
endeavored to defend him. As fast as one was cut down, another took his
place, and, with their dying grasp, they clung to the bridles of the
cavaliers in a vain endeavor to keep them away from the body of their
sacred master. Fearing that the Inca might escape in the darkness, a
few cavaliers now dashed in, in an attempt to end the battle by taking
the life of the Peruvian chieftain; but Pizarro saw this action, and
cried out: “Let no man who values his life strike at the Inca!”
As he spoke, he stretched out his arm in order to shield him, and
received a wound in the hand from one of his own men. This, strange to
relate, is said to be the only wound received by any Spaniard during
the entire action.
The litter was now overturned, and Atahuallpa would have fallen
violently to the ground, had not Pizarro and two of his soldiers caught
the now humiliated chieftain in their arms. A soldier immediately
snatched the crimson ribbon from his forehead. The helpless Peruvian
monarch was taken to the nearest building and was carefully guarded,
while his followers ceased their fruitless struggle and ran away as
fast as they were able. The Castilian horsemen pursued them, until
night fell, and the sound of the trumpet recalled them to the square at
Caxamalca. It is recorded that many thousand of the Indians lay dead
about the city, while not a single Spaniard had forfeited his life in
this sharp but important engagement.
The Spaniards now had the Inca in their possession; but they were very
few, in a great country, and surrounded by enemies. Atahuallpa seemed
to be resigned to his unfortunate position; but he was determined to
gain his freedom, if possible. He saw that gold was what his captors
chiefly desired, and decided to try to buy his freedom, for he feared
that Huascar might wrest the kingdom from him when he discovered that
his brother was in captivity. He therefore promised Pizarro that he
would fill the room in which they stood with gold, if he would but set
him free.
“I will stuff with gold this chamber in which we stand,” said he. “Not
only will I cover the floor with it, but I will pile it up to a line
drawn around the walls as high as you can reach.”
Pizarro was dumb-founded, for the room was seventeen feet broad by
twenty-two feet long, and the line upon the wall was nine feet high.
He was still more affected when the Inca agreed to fill a smaller
room, adjoining this one, with silver twice over, if he were given two
months’ time.
The Spaniard decided to accept, for, should Atahuallpa really do this,
he could even then make way with him and still have possession of the
gold.
“Go ahead,” he remarked. “When you have fulfilled your contract, you
shall have your freedom.”
Alas for the Inca! He did not know that treachery was the chief trait
of all these Spanish adventurers.
The collection of the treasure went rapidly on, while Atahuallpa
remained in the Spanish quarters, treated with great consideration,
but strictly guarded. He even learned to play chess, and, although
closely watched, was allowed to see his subjects freely. His dress was
sometimes of vicuña wool, sometimes of bats’ skins which were velvety
sleek. He changed this often, but nothing which he had worn could be
used by another, and, when he laid a robe aside, it was burned.
Huascar, meanwhile, had heard of Atahuallpa’s capture and this roused
in him a hope that he could regain his own kingdom, of which he had
been recently despoiled. He sent word, therefore, to Pizarro, that,
should the Spaniards wish it, he could pay a far greater ransom than
his brother. He would expect to be reinstated to the chief command
after this had been done.
News of this came to Atahuallpa, who also learned that Pizarro had said
that Huascar should be brought to Caxamalca, so that he, himself, might
determine which of the two brothers had a better right to the scepter
of the Incas. This aroused in him a furious jealousy, and, fearing that
the claims of his brother might be respected, he ordered secretly that
Huascar should be put to death by his guards as he approached. He was
accordingly drowned in the river Andamapa, as he neared Caxamalca.
“The white men will avenge my murder,” said he, with his dying
breath, “and my brother will find that he will not long survive my
assassination!”
He was quite correct in this surmise, for the Spaniards grew suspicious
of the Inca, and pretended to believe that he was arranging a general
uprising among the Peruvians against the white men. When the treasure
had nearly all been collected, they demanded that Pizarro should
disburse it among them, which was done, after the golden vases and
ornaments had been melted down into solid bars. What do you think? It
was worth nearly three and a half million pounds sterling, or seventeen
million five hundred thousand dollars ($17,500,000.00).
This distribution practically ruined the soldiers. They squandered it
recklessly, or lost it over dice and cards. Very few were wise enough
to return to Spain in order to enjoy their ill-gotten spoils in their
native country, and one, indeed, lost a portion of one of the great
golden images of the Sun, taken from the chief temple, in a single
night of gaming; whence came the famous Spanish proverb: “He plays away
the sun before sunrise!”
[Illustration: EXECUTION OF THE INCA OF PERU]
The wild and reckless Castilians, drunk with gold and sudden power,
clamored for the life of the unhappy Inca, for rumors reached them
that an immense army was mustering at Quito to attack them. Atahuallpa
denied any knowledge of this, but his protestations of innocence did
him little good. Pizarro, taking advantage of the absence of some
of the cavaliers who would have defended the poor, helpless Indian,
ordered him to be brought to instant trial. Several brown-skinned
witnesses were produced, who gave testimony which sealed his doom; and,
in spite of the fact that a few of the Spaniards staunchly stood up for
him, he was found guilty of having assassinated his brother Huascar, of
raising an insurrection against the invaders, and was sentenced to be
burned alive.
The miserable Inca, when informed of his impending fate, lost, for a
moment, his courage, which had heretofore never deserted him.
“What have I or my children done,” said he to Pizarro, “that I should
meet such a doom? And, from your hands, too! You who have met with
nothing but friendship and kindness from my people, and who have
received nothing but benefits from my hands.”
In piteous wails he begged for his life.
“I promise to pay double the ransom already given you, if you will but
spare me,” said he.
It was all of no avail. After he had consented to give up his own
religion and be baptized, he was executed, as the Spaniards were
accustomed to put all their prisoners to death,—by strangulation.
Pizarro had no easy time after this. Although Almagro had arrived with
reënforcements, there was serious trouble with all the Indians in the
country. Freed of the power which governed them, they broke into fierce
excesses, the remote provinces threw off their allegiance to the Incas,
the great captains of distant armies set up for themselves, gold and
silver acquired a new importance in their eyes; it was eagerly seized
and hidden in caves and in forests. All Peru was in an uproar.
Thus it remained for many years until, at last, the Spaniards
successfully defeated all the native forces and secured the country to
their own dominion. But now they began to fight among themselves for
the possession of the fruitful land. Almagro lived to be seventy years
of age, after a life of continual battle and adventure. Finally he was
put to death by Hernando Pizarro, the brother of Francisco, who had
followed him here from Spain. The murderer also dispatched his son,
but he himself was imprisoned in Madrid for these acts. He lived for
many years after his release, some say to be a hundred. Francisco’s
other brother, Gonzalo, was beheaded in Peru for rebelling against the
Spanish emperor.