FRIENDS THOUGH FOES
De Soto’s first care naturally was to seek out the Villac-Umu, and
through him to convey to the queen-mother and the princess, who were
already preparing themselves to meet with becoming dignity and
fortitude the shameful fate from which they believed nothing could
save them, the welcome news of their unexpected and indeed
incomprehensible salvation. At the same time runners were dispatched
to Yucay, or, to be more correct, to Chinchero, the great fortress at
the entrance to the valley where the Inca had posted himself with the
advance guard of his army. Their mission was to tell him that the four
cavaliers had redeemed their promise, and that as soon as might be
convenient for them the two royal ladies would set out from Cuzco
under a suitable escort.
This they did betimes in two of the royal litters magnificently
adorned with gold and jewels and feather work, and on either side of
each rode one of those to whose chivalry and generosity they owed even
more than life and liberty.
When the cavalcade had proceeded some two leagues or so beyond the
city, and had reached the rugged plain on which Manco had made his
mock escape, they saw several long, glittering files of men rapidly
approaching them, and Gonzalo Pizarro, to whom the command of the
escort had been given, looked round suspiciously at de Soto and said--
“Señor, your friend the Inca must have a good many men at his
disposal to be able to send an army as an escort for his bride. To my
eyes it has more the look of an ambush.”
“There is no need for fear, Señor,” replied de Soto, laughing, “for
de Molina here carries in his morion a talisman that would take an
unarmed foe scathless through all the Inca’s hosts. If it please you
to bid him ride forward you shall soon see that this is so.”
“Very well,” said Gonzalo, “I shall be glad to know it. Let him go.”
So the young cavalier, who so far had been riding in moody silence on
the right hand of Nahua’s litter, scarcely trusting his eyes to rest
upon her, although she had drawn the curtains partly aside, touched
his horse with the spurs and cantered off to meet the approaching
host. As he rode on they saw file after file come into view from
behind until the whole of that part of the plain seemed covered with
the splendidly dressed soldiery. But the moment that the sacred
feather in de Molina’s helmet became visible every file stopped
motionless, then a rippling sea of fire seemed to run across the plain
as the sunlight gleamed upon thousands of weapons of polished copper
waved in greeting to him, and a mighty shout from thousands of throats
came rolling over the plateau. Then, as though by magic, the shining
files separated and swung back, and in a few moments the paved
causeway was lined on either hand as far as the eye could reach with
an endless array of warriors silent and rigid as bronze statues.
Between these the two litters with their escort passed at a rapid
foot-pace for nearly four hours. As the cavalcade proceeded the two
files behind fell into marching order on the roads, and so it went on,
with an ever-increasing rearguard, until at length the huge black
walls of the fortress loomed up in the distance.
“Yonder is our journey’s end, Señor!” said de Soto to Gonzalo
Pizarro. “That is one of the fortresses guarding the river of which we
told you. I doubt not that the Inca will meet us there and relieve us
of our charge. There too you will see something of the strength of the
position that we shall shortly have to force, unless indeed his
Majesty takes the bolder step of besieging us in Cuzco.”
They were now on the sloping, zigzag pathway which led down towards
the river, and Gonzalo’s soldierly eye had already noted that the
lower they descended the worse the ground became for horses and the
stronger the defences of the ravine appeared.
“I would rather his Majesty came to Cuzco, even though he came at the
head of a hundred thousand men, than we should meet him here with only
ten thousand at his back,” he replied. “I doubt if the world holds
another so lovely a spot so ably defended.”
“So would I,” said de Soto. “It is well for us that these people have
neither steel nor gunpowder. If they had they could hold this valley
for years, in spite of all the soldiers Spain could send against
them.”
“I believe you, Señor,” said Gonzalo, “but, mira! is not that a brave
show. Look, the garrison are turning out to receive us, and yonder is
our late guest, the Inca, armed cap-à-pie, and, Santiago! yonder is
another clad in good steel and mounted on a piece of good Spanish
horse-flesh. Por Dios, these people learn quickly! Methinks if we do
not bring the war swiftly to a close we shall be conquered with our
own weapons.”
“The other will no doubt be old Ruminavi--him they call Stony-Face,”
replied de Soto. “Next to Huayna-Capac himself he is said to have been
the greatest general in the land. The Inca warned me that we should
find fighting him a graver matter than taking Atahuallpa prisoner.”
The cavalcade had now reached the last of the slopes in the roadway,
and presently it turned from it on to the plain in front of the
fortress. As it did so the shrill notes of trumpets and horns rang out
along the mountain-sides, and instantly not only was every terrace and
rampart lined with men but a vast array seemed to spring out from the
ground behind the two mailed figures on the other side of the river.
The stream was now bridged by a quadruple row of balsas or rafts of
reeds lashed tightly together and covered with neatly-dressed planks
of a size which showed that they must have come from the vast forests
which clothe the eastern slopes of the Andes.
The Inca and his companion drew up at about forty paces from the river
bank and remained motionless until the whole cavalcade had crossed it.
The Peruvian escort, as before, separated and fell back into two
files, between which the Spanish cavaliers rode, Gonzalo Pizarro at
the head and the others on either side of the litters. When all had
crossed Manco threw up his vizor and cantered forward alone. He pulled
his horse up with admirable grace within a couple of paces of Gonzalo,
and when he had saluted he held out his hand to him saying--
“Señor, you are welcome since you have come to bring me the greatest
of all the treasures that our land contains. And welcome to you too,
Señores,” he went on with a wave of his hand and a stately bow to
either side of the litters, “since your coming proves that your
tongues are as straight as your right arms are strong. For this day at
least we are friends. I have been your guest,” he went on with a
laugh, “now you must be mine if you will accept such hospitality as my
poor palace can afford.”
“Since, as you say, there is truce between us, Señor Inca,” replied
Gonzalo, “there is no reason against our accepting the honour with all
due gratitude, and I trust we shall sup together none the less
heartily that ere long we may be exchanging honest blows.”
The Inca bowed gravely, wheeling his charger without, as far as the
Spaniards could see, so much as having glanced at the litters, the
curtains of which were now closely drawn, and led the way towards the
palace which formed the northern half of the fortress. The great array
of warriors separated into two solid, shining masses as they
approached, and old Ruminavi, sitting his horse like a statue of
steel, threw up his vizor and saluted with his sword as they passed.
At the foot of a broad flight of steps leading up to a wide terrace
running the whole length of the palace Manco dismounted and asked the
Spanish cavaliers to do the same. Then he led the way on to the
terrace. He now made a sign to the litter-bearers, who at once set
their burdens down, and then for the first time he approached them. He
went first to the one in which Mama-Oello was lying, and with gracious
deference helped her to rise. Then he went to the other, and as Nahua
rose and stood beside him a mighty shout burst from tens of thousands
of throats and went echoing across the river and along the rock-walls
of the valley, and at the same instant every warrior within sight of
the terrace dropped on his knees and spread out his arms towards it,
and Nahua’s name, uttered at the same instant by tens of thousands of
lips, went up to heaven in one great cry of joy and thankfulness.
“You see, Señores,” said Manco, turning to the Spaniards, “that mine
would not have been the only heart that you would have filled with
darkness and sorrow had you not been as brothers rather than as
enemies to one who hereafter, even if he should fall by your hands,
will take none but loving memories of you with him to the Mansions of
the Sun.”
Toil-worn and battle-hardened as they were the Spaniards were still
men, and for the most part gentlemen, and more than one of them looked
at this touching spectacle of thankful devotion through a mist which
was certainly not in the clear sky or the translucent air of the
Sierras, and this mist was not far from becoming veritable tears when
Nahua, at a word in Quichua from Manco, left his side and went to them
one after the other, beginning with de Soto, and took their rough
right hands in hers and bowed her lovely head over them till her lips
touched them.
It was her act of public thanks for the great service they had done
her and her people, and although the army knew that ere many days were
past they must meet these same men in bitter and unsparing battle
every man of all the thousands within sight sprang to his feet again,
waving his weapon and making the rocks and the fortress’ walls ring
with his cheers. It was a moment in which a lasting peace might have
been made and the greatest empire and the most perfect civilisation of
the New World saved from utter and irretrievable ruin. If the majority
of the Spaniards had been such men as those who were now standing with
the Inca on the terrace of his palace they might have been to Peru
what two centuries and a half later the English became to India. But
this was not to be. They had brought with them into the land the twin
curses of insatiable greed and invincible religious intolerance, and
these were ere long to prove the utter undoing of both conquerors and
conquered.
For the rest of that day and far into the night the Spaniards were
treated with a royal and splendid hospitality worthy of the great race
from which Manco sprang. They were feasted in gorgeous chambers,
seated on chairs of silver, and eating and drinking from dishes and
vessels of gold. They were carried in litters up to the rocky ledge
beyond Chinchero, where the tableland ends and whence they could see
all the glories of the lovely valley spread out laughing in the
brilliant sunshine four thousand feet below them. Then, descending
into the valley, they were taken without reserve from palace to palace
and fortress to fortress, and at night they were amused with dances
and martial displays. Then, after feasting splendidly again, they went
to rest on couches of cedar and silver covered with the finest and
softest furs and inclosed by bright-hued curtains of the silken
vicuña wool.
The next morning they found their chargers ready groomed and
caparisoned for them and their native escort drawn up to receive them
in front of the terrace. As soon as the morning meal was over the
trumpets and horns sounded and the garrison turned out in silent and
perfect order to do honour to the departing guests, and the Inca,
accompanied by Nahua and the queen, and attended by old Ruminavi,
still clad in steel, and a brilliant array of his nobles, came out to
bid them farewell in sight of the assembled host.
Behind the Inca came an attendant bearing a great plate of gold, on
which was a heap of gems which flashed gloriously in the sunlight, and
from this Manco took five long strings of emeralds and rubies, each of
which in another land would have been of almost priceless value, and
one of these he hung round each of the astonished Spaniards’ necks,
and immediately afterwards Nahua left the side of the queen, with whom
she had been standing, and went shyly up to de Molina and stood before
him blushing rosy red through the pale olive of her skin.
On her upturned palms there lay a magnificent ruby cut in the shape of
a heart and attached to a golden chain of exquisite workmanship. As
soon as he saw it the young cavalier flushed red to the brows and,
with the true instinct of a Spaniard and a cavalier, he instantly
doffed his morion and dropped on one knee before her, and she took the
two ends of the chain and with trembling fingers fastened them around
his neck.
“That is the gift of my betrothed wife and promised queen,” said
Manco, who had come to her side, “and she asks your acceptance of it
as a token of the great love that we both bear you, since without you
we should not have been together to-day and both of our lives would
have been darkened with a great darkness until we met hereafter in the
Mansions of the Sun, and therefore we both pray that our Father may
keep you to wear it in honour and happiness until we shall meet you as
well, no longer enemies, in the land where men do not make war upon
each other.”
While he was speaking de Molina had caught Nahua’s two little hands in
his and pressed them in turn gently and respectfully to his lips, as
he might have done had he been kissing the hands of his own
sovereign’s consort. Then he rose to his feet with his morion under
his left arm and said in a voice that he had hard work to keep
steady--
“Señor, I would that I could thank her Highness in her own musical
speech, but since I cannot you must do it for me, and doubtless her
ears will receive the words more gladly from your lips than mine. Tell
her that as long as Alonso de Molina lives her gift shall be the most
priceless of his possessions, even as the memory of her beauty and
graciousness shall be the sweetest, if also the saddest, that life
holds for him. Whether I die in battle, as is my hope, or in bed, as
may be my fate, those who find me dead shall find this next to my
heart.”
As he said this he took the splendid gem and pressed it to his lips,
and then throwing back his scarf, he dropped it out of sight under his
breastplate.
“And now, Señor,” he went on, taking the sacred plume from his
morion, “there remains, alas, but this to do. To-day we are your
friends and guests. To-morrow we may meet as enemies, each bound by
his duty to slay the other if he can. When you gave me this you bade
me wear it, and you promised me that it should bear me scathless
through every battle. That, Señor, is what no soldier of Spain could
accept. I may rely on no protection save the mercy of God and my own
right arm. Therefore I pray you take it back, not because I would part
with it, but because I must.”
“That is spoken like a true warrior and an honest man,” said the Inca
as he took the feather from him. “I take back my gift since you have
shown me that you cannot wear it with honour, yet should it be our
fate to join battle a hundred times for each time our hands have met
in friendship, before each onset I will pray to our Father that he may
keep your lance and mine far apart. And now farewell, Señor, y amigo
mio. The way is long and the sun is getting high. When you come to the
City of the Sun give my greeting to Anda-Huillac and the rest of my
people that are there, and tell them, and your people too, that it
will not be long ere I shall visit them.”
So the last farewells were said and the Spaniards and their
auxiliaries, escorted by a splendid array of the Inca’s own
body-guard, crossed the little plain and the bridge of boats and
ascended the winding causeway, ever turning to look back with
regretful eyes at the brilliant throng on the terrace which stood
watching them and waving their farewells until the spur of the
mountain had shut them from sight. After a hard ride over the bare,
bleak puna they reached Cuzco shortly after sundown and at once made
their report to Don Hernando.
They found him presiding over a Council of War, and when they had
delivered their report, and de Soto and Gonzalo Pizarro were beginning
to urge, in the interests of both humanity and policy, that an
honourable peace, or at the least a lengthy truce, should be if
possible concluded with the Inca until the whole situation of affairs
could be laid before the King of Spain, with a view to preventing
further bloodshed and destruction, Don Hernando cut them short by
saying curtly, and with no great good-humour--
“Señores, though you doubtless come with the best of intentions you
yet come too late, since it hath already been decided by a great
majority in full council of war to attack this revolted prince
forthwith in his stronghold, and before he hath time to further
increase the hosts which he means to bring against us. I regret that
you were not here to take part in the deliberation, though your voices
would not have been numerous enough to have changed the decision. But
since you have now been twice the guests of the Inca none can know the
approaches to his fastnesses so well as you, and therefore none can be
better fitted to direct the expedition. It leaves at sunrise
to-morrow, and I do not doubt that in furthering the work in hand you
will prove yourselves at least as good friends to Spain and our holy
cause as your laudable chivalry has lately led you to show yourselves
such good friends to her enemies.”
Later on that night Michael Asterre became the richer by two bars of
gold of the value of 500 pesos each, and Alonso de Molina became the
poorer by these and by the exchange of one of the best suits of armour
in the city for the iron cuirass and greaves and battered plumeless
morion which had so far been the property of the stalwart man-at-arms.