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 Ñusta 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 Cañares, 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 Señor 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, Señores, 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.—Adiós, 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 Ñusta 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!”