CHAPTER XXXAn Encounter on the Plain of ChitaWithin a few days after the passage of the Apurimac Matopo crossed, by a rapid night march, the plateau of Chita, not many leagues from Cuzco. He moved with caution, and halted, near morning, at the eastern edge of the plain, awaiting daylight before the descent into the valley of the Urubamba where lay Ollantaytambo, the rendezvous of the Inca's forces and his objective.The column moved at sunrise. Below, a full mile almost straight down, spread the floor of the valley. The road was a masterpiece of engineering. At points it was hewn out of the solid rock; at others, supported by masonry; but everywhere of even breadth and gradient, and smoothly paved. Cristoval soon had a view of a distant town which Matopo said was Urubamba, clinging to the lower slopes of the opposite mountains, and near it the palace of Yucay, faintly visible. He saw it with a heart-throb, for here might be Rava.Upon reaching the plain the command went into bivouac. Three days of forced marches had been exhausting, and at the earliest moment possible Cristoval disarmed, stretched himself upon his cloak under a terrace wall, and was soon asleep. He was roused by a Conibo. The sun, far past the meridian, apprised him that he had slept long."Viracocha," said the soldier, as the cavalier sat up, "the general would see you at once."Cristoval noticed the man's perturbation, and gathered up his cloak to follow. He saw signs of unusual agitation among the Conibos, and that the few still sleeping were being roused. Those awake were gathered in knots, some conversing excitedly, but most were standing about, silent and profoundly depressed. Those he passed glanced at him darkly and turned away, some with muttered words which he could not hear. The cavalier, though wondering, was little disturbed; but he grew more concerned at the gloom and gravity of Matopo and his assembled officers. As he drew near he saw several nobles in the group quite unknown to him, who had apparently just arrived."Diós! Something hath gone awry," he said to himself, and hurried his steps. Matopo said abruptly,"Viracocha, the Inca hath been made a prisoner."Cristoval stopped, thunderstruck, and looked about the grim-faced circle. For a moment he was speechless, then demanded sharply: "A prisoner, sayst thou! Where is he a prisoner? Who hath made him prisoner?""Ah, who!" returned Matopo, fiercely. "Who but the Viracochas? He is in the Sachsahuaman. He was taken on his way to Ollantaytambo. The Auqui Paullo, the Ñustas, and most of his household are held in the palace at Cuzco, with—"Cristoval interrupted him with a savage oath. "The Ñusta Rava? Is she again in the power of those hell-hounds?""All who were within the palace. Guards were put around it the moment it was known that the Inca had left the city."Cristoval stood glowering, observed with some astonishment by the strangers, who, although already aware of his identity, were unprepared for his demonstration, and still less so for his vehement demand:—"Matopo, what dost purpose? Whatever it may be must be quickly done, for I tell thee, the Inca's life is not worth a hair among those miscreants, and should they suspect preparations for war it would not be worth—" and he snapped his fingers. "What is thy purpose?""Viracocha, this is my Lord Quehuar," said Matopo, indicating the noble beside him. "In the absence of the Inca he is in command."The cavalier turned to him with as much force as he had addressed Matopo. "Lord Quehuar, if the movement of thy troops is known in Cuzco, there is not an hour to lose. The Pizarros will hesitate less to kill the Inca than in killing Atahualpa. Thou must act without delay. Have measures been taken for his rescue?"The old noble hesitated before replying. But there was that in Cristoval's manner, in his vigorous intensity of speech, and his total unconsciousness of any consideration other than the Inca's danger, that banished doubt and commanded deference. The old Indio felt it, and without loss of dignity."No steps have yet been taken, Viracocha," he said, "for we have just been released from Cuzco. Nothing is known of the assembling of the Inca's troops. We have arrived at no determination. The calamity is overpowering."Cristoval took a step forward as he answered, "The calamity will grow hourly, Lord Quehuar. The Inca must be released. Is the fortress strongly garrisoned?""Not strongly. Some thirty Viracochas.""Good!" cried Cristoval. "Give me a hundred men and some one who knoweth the fortress, and we will release him.—Hola, Pedro!""Aqui! Here!" answered the approaching cook. "What is to do now? I have been shaken and thumped, and despoiled of sleep worth acastellanothe minute. What is wrong, Cristoval?"Cristoval replied in Quichua, "The Inca hath been imprisoned, and the Ñusta Rava is again in toils." Pedro halted with an exclamation, and Cristoval continued, "I say that with a hundred followers we can release him, Pedro. What sayst thou—wilt go?""Thou knowest, Cristoval!" replied the cook, with force. "But hast forgotten that I am myself a prisoner?"Cristoval faced Matopo and demanded, "What of this, my lord? Wilt accept his word?"The general signified his willingness emphatically, and Cristoval again turned to Quehuar with impetuosity: "My Lord Quehuar, permit us to march to-night."Mocho, the fiery, strode forward. "Let me take a battalion of my Antis, General. I know the fortress to the last stone."Quehuar deliberated, and turned to the other nobles. "My lords, we will consider it. Viracochas, we thank you for the offer of your swords." He bowed. Taking Pedro's arm, Cristoval withdrew.The conference was prolonged. Doubts were expressed by some concerning the prudence of trusting a Viracocha, and Matopo was questioned closely. Markumi and the other Xilcalans were summoned, and finally, Cristoval himself. His manifest sincerity determined the matter, and achasquiwas sent speeding to Ollantaytambo, some hours away, bearing a command from Mocho to his Antis.Upon Pedro fell the task of apprising the señora of a short expedition with Cristoval, and of persuading her to accompany Matopo to Ollantaytambo. This the cook achieved with rare diplomacy. The lady, vehement in her obduracy for a time, in the end consented, and with Father Tendilla, marched with the Conibos that afternoon. The Antis arrived at nightfall, two hundred strong, the pick of Mocho's warriors. At dawn the expedition moved, with Cristoval and Pedro beside Mocho at its head.Leaving the valley for the plateau of Chita, they took the direct road to the capital. Not long after midday a scout came in to say that two mounted Viracochas, accompanied by a third man on foot, were approaching from the direction of Cuzco. The two riders were in armor and bore lances. The pedestrian was a native, and appeared to be captive. Mocho heard the report and cast a critical glance over the country about. Some distance ahead was a low plain, boggy in spots beside the road, and surrounded by broken, rocky knolls. With a directness gratifying to Cristoval's soldierly taste, Mocho broke his command into parties to surround the plain, with orders to close upon it by squads when the strangers had reached the middle, and to cover, especially, gullies and slopes which might offer avenue for flight. Enough were retained to hold the road, and they retired to a rise of ground which concealed them from the oncoming party. Cristoval looked about in surprise. The two hundred had vanished as if by magic.The wait was not long, and as the strangers descended the opposite slope Cristoval and Pedro spurred forward. There was some surprise at their sudden appearance, but the trio did not halt. Cristoval and his companion were first to reach the middle of the plain, and drew rein to await the strangers, who advanced without suspicion. Cristoval observed that the man on foot was a noble, and seemingly little more than a youth.Presently one of the two mounted Spaniards hailed, and Cristoval dropped his visor with the word: "Mendoza, by the saints!" Pedro grunted his surprise and followed the example, but neither replied. The movement and silence seemed to excite uneasiness, for the trio slowed up, and Mendoza called again:—"Hola, amigos! How far to Chinchero?"Cristoval was silent, and after consultation the others advanced scowling. At a few paces they halted, and Mendoza demanded: "Come! Have ye no tongues, you two? If ye have, find them; or move aside and give us way.Diablo! Is it thou, cook?" He had caught sight of Pedro's peg, and surveyed him in astonishment, then Cristoval, whom he failed to recognize in De Valera's armor.Cristoval saluted, first the noble, and then, with deliberation, each of the two cavaliers, saying graciously: "Señores, your right of way endeth here. We have waited to inform you."Mendoza started. "Ha! Peralta! God's life!—wilt dispute me passage? Stand aside, thou—""Gently, Señor!" interrupted Cristoval, with increased suavity. "Thy way endeth here! Canst doubt it?" He waved his hand toward the hills, and the two followed his gesture with an exclamation. The Antis were closing rapidly from all sides. The young Indio looked at the advancing warriors with no less astonishment. Cristoval went on:—"However, Señor Mendoza, the circumstance need not prevent our personal settlement of the question of thy right of way. Here is a fair level of road—""Trapped, by the fiend!" bellowed Mendoza, and he turned savagely upon the noble. "Hast played us, thou dog? Well done! But—" He cast aside his lance and drew his sword—A most sudden man, this Cristoval. He was upon Mendoza almost before the sword was bared, mace in hand. His first blow crashed upon the sword-wrist, and the murderous weapon clanged upon the roadway. The second followed like lightning, and Mendoza rolled from his saddle with a shattered helmet, while the riderless horse dashed across the plain. The second cavalier whirled his steed to fly, when Pedro charged him, struck him in mid-volt, and horse and rider went down before the impact.The young noble had sprung back out of danger, bewildered, and hardly less shocked by the unexpected violence and clangor than if the earth had suddenly opened. Cristoval dismounted and was bending over Mendoza, unable to determine whether the man was dead, and not much concerned. The other rider was sitting up, in some disorder of mind, with Pedro hovering over him, lance in rest, admonishing him gently that he was expected to preserve a quiet demeanor. The Antis had closed upon the group, and Cristoval became aware of a hush in the encircling line. Every man was upon his knees. Mocho was just rising from a prostration before the young Indio."El Inca!" ejaculated Pedro. "God bless my soul!"Cristoval started. He had scarcely noticed the youth, except to observe that he wore the ear ornaments of one of rank; but now he saw before him a replica of the features of Rava, darker, ruggedly masculine, but still the well-remembered traits. Thellautawas absent. The young monarch turned from Mocho and spoke a word to the Antis, who rose with a shout, tossing shields and javelins in a frenzy of jubilation, as he advanced to the astonished Cristoval."Viracocha," he said, as he offered his hand, scrutinizing the cavalier's face. "I owe thee my life. My Lord Mocho, tell me whom I am to thank.""The Viracocha Cristoval, Sapa Inca," replied Mocho, "to whom Tavantinsuyu is—"He stopped. The Inca had dropped Cristoval's hand as if stung, his face suddenly darkening with enmity. Cristoval stiffened, and his face slowly reddened at the affront. There was a flash in his eyes as they met the frown, and he formally saluted, saying:—"The Inca Manco oweth me nothing."Manco turned away abruptly. Remembered his obligation, and again faced the cavalier, as he said, without gratitude and with an effort plainly visible: "You have saved my life, Viracocha. My Lord Mocho, see that he and his companion are suitably rewarded. Assemble thy men."He moved away burdened by a debt heavier upon his proud heart than all the insults borne at Viracocha hands; haunted by the crucifix seen on Rava's bosom—placed there by the one for whose death he had given fervent thanks to Inti a hundred times: by the hand which had now saved him from the sword of one whom he hated less. Black thoughts, with blacker ones beneath: his liberty a loathed thing! He pushed on alone, far in advance of the column which Mocho was hurriedly forming.Cristoval glanced after him, watched the Antis gathering up Mendoza, who was groaning feebly; saw the other Spaniard secured, and as the column moved off, turned to Pedro who was regarding him with inquiry."By the saints, Pedro, I have little taste for such a host. I misdoubt our welcome. However," he added, after a moment's gloomy thought, "I see no help for it." He recovered his lance, which he had dropped to catch up his mace, mounted, and they rode after the column.Mocho joined them at the first halt. His manner betrayed his uneasiness at the reception accorded the two Spaniards by his master, and he hastened to say: "The Inca is not yet aware of all his indebtedness, Viracochas; but I will make him so. You will not find him ungrateful." Cristoval inclined his head gravely, presently asking how the monarch had effected his release."By ruse," answered Mocho. "He confided to the new commander of the Viracochas, Hernando Pizarro, that there is treasure concealed near Yucay, and was freed to guide the two soldiers to the hiding-place.""Aha!" said Cristoval. "Hernando back! Well, his greed hath overreached. What is in store for the Viracochas who came with the Inca?—death, no doubt?""They will be left at Chinchero to make their way back to Cuzco as soon as the injured one is able to walk," replied Mocho. Cristoval was surprised, but made no comment.It was near midnight when Urubamba was reached, and having despatched heralds to announce the Inca, the command moved on to Yucay. The palace occupied a rocky shelf far above the valley. It was approached by a road which wound upward from terrace to terrace through an immense park, and after a tedious ascent the great rambling group of buildings rose at the head of the avenue. In a brightly lighted court large enough for a regiment the escort halted, and the Inca passed between prostrate menials to his apartments, accompanied by Mocho. On the latter's return the two Spaniards were led to quarters in a distant part of the building, followed by a corps of servants.Their apartment consisted of a large salon with sleeping-rooms adjoining. It was already alight. Mocho was depressed, but took leave with cordiality, promising to join them early the following day. A few minutes later refreshments were brought. As they were about to sit Pedro inquired,"Canst feed thyself, Cristoval?""Assuredly!" replied Cristoval, with mild surprise. "Why not?""So can I," said Pedro. "Canst get to bed without assistance?""Nonsense, Pedro! What dost think?—that I may drink too much?""Then in the name of a saint, dismiss these servants! It neither aideth me to eat to have twelve men observing me how I do it, nor my digestion afterwards. Tell them to go. They need rest." Cristoval smiled, indicated to the attendants that they were no longer needed, and Pedro sat with evident relief. "That," he observed, "is one of the reasons why I would not be a king. But now we can eat in comfort and spontaneously as becometh hungry men, notwithstanding the iciness of His Majesty. Hast guessed at the cause of that, Cristoval?""I've guessed in a hundred guesses, but can make naught of it. He looked not unfriendly until he heard my name. It may be that Pizarro hath smirched it with evil report. The name liked him not, 't is certain, and we may cast about for the reason. Let it go. But now, Pedro, he is free, and that meaneth war against Pizarro. Thou knowest my purpose to offer my sword."Pedro nodded."It may be," continued Cristoval, "this enmity of the Inca will deny me privilege, though I scarce can think it. If not, I will fight with Mocho, and in that event, old friend, we are near to parting.""Ah!" said Pedro, without looking up."Thy friendship," Cristoval went on, "hath dragged thee into rough places and more dangers than one. Mine for thee is the only return I have been able to make. It hath profited thee little, but I swear to thee, Pedro, it is warmer than I ever felt for any other man, and it will go sorely to part,amigo." Cristoval extended his hand over the table. Pedro gave it a wrench, and starting to his feet, pegged rapidly across the room and back. He halted before Cristoval with face slightly flushed, and surveyed him sternly."Cristoval," he growled, "sometimes thou growest wearisome. Curse it, dost think my friendship hath gone halt, like myself? Hath it travelled so far and now can go no farther? Who hath said so?""Nay! God forbid that I should think it," said Cristoval, rising. "But look thou, Pedro, this will be war, and against countrymen. Thou hast no quarrel.""No?" returned Pedro, remembering again his crushed thumbs and ravaged chests. "But mayhap I have. If not, then one shall not be long wanting."What further protest Cristoval would have made was interrupted by a rap on the door, and he opened it to Mocho. The general was disturbed and said quickly, "My friend Cristoval, the Inca would see thee immediately.""What!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Doth he not sleep? It is near the morning.""He hath not slept," said Mocho.Cristoval threw his cloak over his shoulders and followed him out.CHAPTER XXXIInca and ConquistadorThe Inca Manco did not sleep. His attendants dismissed, he found himself alone with torturing thoughts. Lashed, stung, and seared by the recollection of a thousand Spanish outrages, of the humiliations during his imprisonment, his mind seethed with purpose of vengeance, with plans of action, and impatience for their execution. Most merciless of all was the thought that beneath his very roof were sheltered two of the hated aliens, harbored through the demands of a gratitude which he could not feel. And one of them (the one who had seduced Rava from her faith in the ancient gods, whom he had seen her mourning with he knew not—O, Inti!—what secret cause of grief, and whom he would have gladly given to death) had imposed upon him the final obligation! The sense of it bit to his proud soul like the thrust of a javelin. He would have seen this Viracocha hurled from a precipice as he would a common criminal, but the debt was there, burdening his heart like a monstrous incubus. He strode about, clutching his head, now resolved to issue a fell command, now restrained by the stern injunction of honor. The Viracocha was his guest; had, moreover, said Mocho, been zealous for storming the Sachsahuaman; had served Tavantinsuyu in other ways, and professed a wish to serve still further. With what motive, this allegiance? Ah! what motive could a Viracocha have but one?—the hope of gold! He was merely more astute than his fellows, and of deeper cunning; but the incentive was, could be nothing else. Then this debt could be acquitted!—should be acquitted that very hour! The Viracocha should have his gold and be gone. At once! Before the sun should find him beneath the roofs of Yucay!Manco hastened to the door. He threw it open, restrained the sentinels with impatience from their obeisance, and sent one in hot haste for Mocho. The general was soon in the royal chamber. Manco stood in the middle of the floor, hot-eyed and scowling."Fetch the Viracocha!" he cried, impetuously, as Mocho appeared. "Hasten—the one called Cristoval—and—I will see him alone, Mocho."Mocho hurried away, wondering and disturbed. The Inca saw the door closed, and became active. On his table was his untouched supper, served on plates and salvers of massive gold. He seized them, opened an outer door, flung out their contents, and stacked the utensils in a glowing heap. In an adjoining room were toilet articles of precious weight. They were piled beside the table service. From the niches in the walls he snatched the vases, hurled out the plants and soil, and bore them, an armful of wealth, to the stack on the table. From a chest he tossed out a fortune in jewelled armlets, wristlets, and girdles. From the walls he tore their decorations, bending and crushing them into shapelessness.He worked eagerly, casting the articles upon the heap with scorn for the object for which they were being collected, and hating them for their worth to his enemies. As he deposited the last he heard steps, and turned to face the unwelcome guest. Cristoval was ushered in by Mocho, who retired at once, closing the door. The cavalier saluted, observing the half-suppressed agitation on the Inca's face. The monarch made slight acknowledgment, noting quickly that he wore the native costume. Manco stood beside the treasure, darkly watchful for the Spaniard's expression at sight of the gold. Cristoval glanced at the pile as he entered, but gave it no further look, regarding Manco with calm attentiveness. Unexpectedly the latter found it not easy to begin. There was a dignity in the bearing of this Viracocha which forbade the tender of the treasure and abrupt dismissal ready to his tongue a second before. The silence had become onerous when he said at last:—"Viracocha, I have summoned you to say once more that I am in your debt. Lord Mocho hath told me all he knoweth. I am aware of your service to—to one of my kin. Yesterday you added further to my obligation, and I desire to discharge it immediately, and if possible, to your satisfaction."The bitterness in the words and the curl of lip did not escape the cavalier, who replied, coldly: "Lord Inca, there existeth no obligation to be discharged. You will pardon my denial that any act of mine hath imposed a debt upon the Inca Manco."The Inca made no pretence of concealing the disdain with which he received the answer and waved it aside. Stepping back from the table, he pointed at the pile of gold and said brusquely, "Take it!"But the execrable lighting of the Spaniard's face for which he looked, and had seen so often on those of Pizarro and his companions, was absent. Cristoval ignored the treasure, but the color flashed into his face in resentment of Manco's tone and manner. "Your gold hath no worth to me, my Lord Inca," he said, with slow emphasis. "I ask no favor but your authority to pass, to-night, the guards about the palace.""Do you reject it?" demanded Manco, with a frown."I beg my Lord Inca's gracious leave to decline it.""It is not enough!" exclaimed Manco, with contempt. "Then I will increase it.""I fear my lord doth not get my meaning," replied Cristoval, with an even voice that would have cautioned one acquainted with its significance. "I repeat, the gold is of no use to me."Manco's frown darkened. "Then what will you, Viracocha?" he cried, impatiently. "Name it! It shall be yours. If this gold is not enough, I will load your beast with all he can bear away. But let me acquit this debt before the sun riseth upon it again."The scorn was now Cristoval's. It burned in his steady eyes as he replied quietly: "I fear, my lord, that you will compel me to speak plainly, and I would not. If I have been of service, I beg you will believe that I should feel it depreciated by the acceptance of reward. It should be unnecessary for me to say more to a soldier, my Lord Inca."Manco scarcely heeded his words. In his impatience to be done their sense was quite lost. His experience with the sordid and greedy Spaniards made it impossible for him to believe this one less so. He rejoined hotly: "You saved my life, Viracocha! Why?"Cristoval answered with patience. "I was unaware that it was you, my lord. It calleth not even for your thanks."Manco flushed, but went on. "You were about to take part in an undertaking to release me from prison. Again, why? Lord Mocho hath said that you would offer your sword to Tavantinsuyu. Why, Viracocha? Is it without hope of reward, all this? Are you of so different fibre from the plunderers of Cuzco?" He turned away with a gesture of contemptuous disbelief.Cristoval eyed him in silence, struggling to restrain his anger at the imputation of venality. When he spoke the Inca faced him again, and met a look grown intense."Lord Inca Manco," said the cavalier, "you have questioned my motives. It is not my wont to defend them—with words; nor will I defend them now further than to say that it was my purpose to offer my sword without thought of reward, and less to aid you and your cause, just though it is, than to rescue one whom you hold dear—the Ñusta Rava."At the name the Inca's face grew livid. "Ah!" he exclaimed, his voice lowered and husky with passion. "One whom I hold dear! One whom I held dear above all on earth until she came to me defiled by your accursed love, broken-hearted, wearing the symbol of your damnable belief!"His rage was not more quick than that of Cristoval, but the latter's years gave him better self-control. The cavalier, pausing to hold himself, replied: "Defiled, my Lord Inca! 'T is a black and shameful word, applied to the Ñusta Rava, and by the great Heaven, the man with whom I could fight on equal footing should not leave this room alive with the word unswallowed!"The Inca snatched thellautufrom his head and cast it aside. He went out, returning instantly with a pair of the short native swords. He thrust the hilts toward the cavalier."Choose!" he cried, hoarsely.Cristoval's eyes blazed, and he stretched out his hand to seize the weapon. Arrested the motion, and drawing back, stood surveying the maddened youth in silence. Fight this prince, already laden with unnumbered cares, the victim of inconceivable wrongs, and on the eve of leading a life-and-death struggle to save his people? Turn a sword upon the brother of Rava?"Choose!" commanded Manco, passionately. "Doth the Viracocha hesitate?"Cristoval grasped a sword, and as the Inca stepped back to guard, threw it upon the table. "My lord," he said, "I have no mind to fight."Manco's surprise gave way to quick access of anger. "What mean you, Viracocha?" he demanded, hotly. "Is this some new form of insult?""God forbid!" said Cristoval.For a moment the monarch glared at him, speechless with rage and uncertainty. "Do I look upon a coward?" he asked, slowly, the scorn deepening in his eyes.Cristoval knew that the stigma must follow his refusal, yet he started and reddened at the word. "A coward! No, my Lord Inca, not that!" he replied, meeting steadily the look of contempt and enmity. "Not a coward; and I believe you cannot think it." During a fraction of a second he felt the penetrating gaze which might have been Rava's. It passed, and Manco's brow darkened again. He was about to speak, but Cristoval raised his hand. "Lord Inca Manco," he said, gravely, "we have no quarrel. I divined but now the nature of what you hold as grievance. I call upon Heaven to witness that the Ñusta Rava hath had from me naught but honor in mine every thought.""Honor!" repeated Manco, with renewed scorn. "Honor in a Viracocha?""Nay, my lord! You have heard me say that I will not fight," returned the cavalier. Manco colored under the reproof, and Cristoval went on, "There is honor even among Viracochas, and something more than lust of gold, God knoweth!" He paused again. "You spoke of the symbol the Ñusta Rava wore. I tell you, Prince, that if you come not to the faith, it betokeneth you will go upon your bended knees on the hot pavement of hell and give up thanks that your sister hath been spared your fate!" Then, with a gesture: "But I say once more, Lord Inca, we have no quarrel. We have a common enemy."Again Manco's searching look, but he was silent, studying the man before him. Here, assuredly, was a Viracocha who differed from his kind. He had neither swaggered nor sneered. He spoke with a dignity and candor that forced respect. In his bearing was a calm pride and consciousness of strength which had baffled the unconcealed hate and bitterness with which he had been received. The frank honesty of his eyes had lent support to his words. Manco's youth had not given him a knowledge of men, and least of all could he fathom a Spaniard; but his own ingenuous temperament, shamefully as it had been abused, made him quick in an intuition that he had misjudged. But this was in his thoughts as an under-current. Before him still was a Viracocha. He tossed his sword beside its fellow, and demanded:—"Why are you here? Of what concern to you is the rescue of the Ñusta Rava?"Candidly Cristoval faced the rights of a brother. "Of deep concern, my lord. So deep that I overlook the manner of your questions and answer them," he replied, bluntly. "So deep that I have proffered my service, my life, if need be, to Tavantinsuyu in her behalf."Hostility returned to Manco's eyes. He surveyed the cavalier for a moment before replying coldly, "The Ñusta Rava is the daughter of an Inca, Viracocha.""I am acaballeroof Spain, my Lord Inca."In silence contended the pride of two races. On the one hand, an autocrat absolute, master of an empire, ruler of multitudes—but an Indian. On the other, a soldier, an adventurer, but a Caucasian—a Conquistador. Upon the monarch, unseen, unfelt, fell the shadow of Destiny.There was no wavering in the eyes of either. In the stern, self-possessed cavalier the Inca saw and was compelled to acknowledge, an indefinable superiority which eluded him—the genius of a breed of subjugators. Withal, there was no arrogance in this Spaniard's face; only the grave serenity of a lofty mind, a strength of spirit which rose above the distinction of the temporal rank of the Peruvian and all his might. On his own part, Cristoval beheld a kingliness ingrained: a majesty as natural as the air that Manco breathed.Cristoval broke the pause. "My Lord Inca, I requested, a moment ago, your gracious leave to pass the guards."Manco seemed not to have heard, but stood in gloomy meditation. Cristoval was about to speak again when the Inca replied with abruptness, "It is my will, Viracocha, that you remain within the palace."Cristoval bowed, and again encountered the look of profound scrutiny. Manco inclined his head, and the cavalier withdrew.CHAPTER XXXIIThe Storm BreaksPedro was asleep in his chair, but roused when Cristoval laid a hand upon his shoulder."Old friend," said the latter, "we are prisoners."Pedro sat up, regarding his companion with incredulity. "Prisoners again, sayst thou, Cristoval?""Prisoners! I asked the Inca's leave to quit the palace at once, and was denied.""At once! To-night?" demanded Pedro. "Well, then stew me if I'm not glad thou wast denied! Here is our supper, scarce touched. Here are two beds, immaculate. Cristoval, thou 'rt rash, hot-headed, and too impetuous by far! Now what if the Inca had given thee thy leave?""We should have taken it and gone," replied Cristoval."Como asi! Just so," said the cook, in a tone of reproach. "We should have taken it and gone—supperless, bedless, two wanderers by night. As for being prisoners, the news would have kept until morning, and I for one, would have slept none the worse."Cristoval regarded him moodily. "Gods, but thou hast philosophy, for a captive cook!""Philosophy!" retorted Pedro; "'t is common sense. But come! Let us fall to, and thou tell me whilst we eat."They fell to, and Cristoval recounted the interview. At its close Pedro remarked comfortingly: "Well, if this is durance, Cristoval, I've experienced worse, and so hast thou. Which bed wilt have? They're alike. Shall we toss for it? I have amaravedi.""Madre! Thou'rt a cheerful cook," returned Cristoval, glumly.They tossed for beds, sought them presently, and while Cristoval lay restless and pondering, Pedro's peaceful snore resounded through the halls of the Incas.The cavalier was awakened next morning by the voice of Pedro in the outer room, addressing an attendant and apparently amending his salutation into Christian terms."Say, rather, 'May the Virgin guard you'; or, more briefly, 'Dominus vobiscum.' Either is good, and the sooner thou learnest them the better for thy soul. Is that our breakfast? Art sure? Hast not strayed into the wrong room? Hum! Well, it hath little of the look of the prison fare I've—heard tell of, for a surety! Pleased with it, boy! Why, I'm pleased from crop to tail-feathers, and that's clear through! A mere saying, my lad. Heed it not. Ah! My leg? It hath thine admiration? In my country 't is worn as a mark of transcendent virtue. Few attain it. That will do. Just leave the door open when thou goest out."Presently Cristoval heard a low whistle of surprise, and Pedro stumped hurriedly to his door. "Cristoval!" whispered the cook, "Cristoval! He did it!""He did what?" demanded Cristoval."Left the door open, or I'm a scullion! Stir thyself!"The cavalier stepped out. The door was broad open, admitting sunlight, perfume, and the sound of the fountain in the court. "Move, man, and we're free!" exclaimed Pedro, urgently. "There is not a soul in the patio.""Useless, Pedro!" said Cristoval, turning away. "The place is surrounded by guards, and the valley full of troops. We should not stir five hundred yards.""Oh, the fiend! We can try. 'T is a flaunt in the face of Providence not to try!" He looked stealthily into the court and drew back with an exclamation. "Here cometh Mocho! Shall I throttle him?""No!" thundered Cristoval.Pedro shrugged. "Amigo, thou 'rt an ass!—with asinine propensities for thorns and thistles." He pegged across the room and seated himself with some violence, muttering, "This is what cometh of being a cook."Mocho entered. "My friends," said he hastily, after their greetings, "we move in an hour toward Cuzco. The Inca hath gone to Ollantaytambo with Quehuar and Yumaquilque, who came this morning. The Antis are on the march.""We, my Lord Mocho!" said Cristoval. "We—Pedro and myself—are prisoners. The Inca refused liberty to leave the palace."Mocho shook his head with a smile. "No, Viracocha Cristoval. There was a council at dawn when the generals arrived, and the Inca hath accepted your service. In truth, you were not prisoners. The Inca could not so soon forget."Within the hour the two Spaniards were leading down through the park to the valley with Mocho, and the latter said, "Viracocha Cristoval, the Antis are to take the Sachsahuaman."Cristoval nodded. "Count us with them, Lord Mocho," he said briefly.A few days later a foraging party of Spanish pikemen and Cañares leaving Cuzco by the Cuntisuyu road at dawn found its way opposed outside the suburb of Chaquill-Chaca by a body of Peruvian archers. The sergeant in command halted in astonishment, then with an imprecation ordered his men forward to cut a way through. Before half-a-dozen paces had been covered a flurry of arrows whizzed into their ranks. The sergeant ordered a charge, met at quarter bow-shot by a volley, and the head of his detail melted. Another discharge, and the foragers reeled, broke, and stampeded toward the city. They dashed through the dim streets crying the alarm and reached the square just as the garrison of the Sachsahuaman rushed into it from the north in wild disorder. The fortress had been surprised by an overwhelming force, and the Spaniards had fled without a blow. A few minutes later half a score of wounded straggled in, some borne by comrades. A number had been left within the fortification, dead or captive, and others had dropped along the road. Now, from the suburbs on the west and south came the distant howling of the Cañares. A soldier burst into the sleeping-room of Hernando Pizarro, admitting with him a confusion of shouts from the square and the blare of trumpets sounding to arms."We are attacked!" cried the soldier. "The fortress hath fallen, and the city is surrounded."Hernando was out of bed at a bound. As he rushed out half-dressed, a horde of retreating Cañares swarmed into the square, some wounded, some naked, many unarmed, and all in panic, their savage clamor drowning the shouts of the Spanish officers struggling to form the companies. For a space it was a scene of madness. The Cañares, part terror-stricken by the suddenness of the attack, part infuriated by wounds and the sight of blood, whirled in the square like wild cattle, breaking the forming lines of the infantry, struck at by angry pikemen, fighting back, and howling. In a moment began a sputtering zip of arrows from outside, with here and there an answering shriek and plunge of some man hit, and the confusion rose to pandemonium. The sputtering increased; became a steady rain of missiles searching every yard of the place, their flight invisible in the twilight, making the vicious whir, or sharp, angry snap as they glanced on the pavement or from the walls, the more sinister. The Cañares broke for shelter in the halls of the palace of Viracocha, followed by the infantry and Candia's men dragging their guns. Here the lines were hastily reformed. A few cavaliers were in the court, already mounted; but a few only, for Juan Pizarro had gone, three days before, with almost the entire strength of the horse in a fruitless pursuit of the Inca Manco, whose rescue had been reported by the battered Mendoza and his companion.Hernando had gotten into armor in some fashion, and was now in the saddle, adjusting his helmet while he bellowed commands. His handful of cavalry clattered after him into the hail-swept square. The infantry, not two hundred of them in all, closed in behind. No hesitancy here, but grim resolution to fight whatever odds they might find; an unreserved, deadly willingness to fight, though the legions of all heathendom were arrayed against them.For an hour the plaza roared, thundered, and trembled; was finally cleared. The warriors of the Inca had fought with courage almost superhuman, but had been met with steel, by the crushing weight of cavalry, by the fire and havoc of guns. They retreated to the streets, and the streets were swept by falconet and arquebus. They were driven to the suburbs—and the attack had failed.But gloom, almost despair, was with the victors. Toward night, as the city grew quiet, Hernando summoned his officers in council in the square. They gathered about him, wounded, exhausted, and filthy with carnage, scowling sullenly beneath their lifted visors, morose and taciturn. The little said was scarcely heeded, their sombre glances turning to the grim walls of the Sachsahuaman, or to the hills around the city, now dark with the legions of the Inca. Hernando heard the reports of the wounded and dead, made no comment, and the council grew dumb. The storm had broken with such fury, with unexpectedness so entire, and its apparent magnitude was so great, that hearts before unknown to fear were filled with dread. The minds of the counsellors were stunned. The few words ventured by one or another were flat in their inadequacy, and were answered by silence. Hernando at last forced some phrases of encouragement, issued instructions for the disposition of what force there was, and the council gradually dissolved without words of dismissal.Cuzco was invested. To oppose the thousands Hernando had only his infantry, a battery short of ammunition, with a thousand or more Cañares whom nothing could induce to go into action that day, and whose fidelity in the emergency was doubtful. Of the infantry, only the arquebusiers had signal superiority over the foe, and these were few, their powder limited. What fate had befallen Juan Pizarro and his troopers he feared to guess. Whether they should be able to make their way back to the city was a conjecture which gave little cheer.As evening came on patrols were kept moving through the deserted streets, saluted with an occasional flight of arrows when they approached the suburbs, but there seemed no disposition on the part of the Peruvians to renew encounter. Night fell as calmly over the brooding mountains as if it were not curtaining the prelude of a weary length of tragedy whose last act would mean the destruction of a civilization.For one heart within the besieged city, crushed and broken by sorrows that had searched and torn its every fibre, the rise of the sun upon the outburst of clamor of conflict saw the last flickering of the desire to live. Shocked and terrified by the tumult outside, the yells of fighting men, the roar of charging horse, and the thunder of guns—dread sounds which told her of agony and death for her beloved people—she closed her ears and prayed to die. Life was too full of horrors. Hers had been shadowed by a pall, lifted once by love, only to fall again with deepened blackness. Behind closed doors, with darkened windows, surrounded by cowering and weeping maids, she knelt through the long hours of anguish, offering up shuddering appeals to be taken away.The Auqui Paullo came, flushed with excitement and fierce cheerfulness. He knew the dire significance of the turmoil, and bade Rava partake his own hope. The army of the Inca was afield, and deliverance at hand. Alas! no deliverance to Rava from her bondage of grief. She waved him away and wept afresh.Late in the day came Father Valverde from his ministrations to dying Spaniards, and she knelt at his feet, imploring his prayers for her relief. The good priest, shocked at her longing for death, hastened to banish this vestige of her barbarism; prayed beside her for the renewing of her resignation; told her again of His agony and gentle patience, of the Mother bereaved, and gave her support. Once more he spoke of the saintly lives of nuns, and she listened with yearning for their holy peacefulness. He left her at last with new hope and a resolution fast growing. Rava would take the veil.The night which closed the first day's struggle was without alarm. The Spaniards slept beside their arms, the troopers in armor and at the picket line of their saddled steeds. Guards were doubled, and patrols kept the streets. The stars came out, but they seemed rivalled in multitude and brilliancy by the fires of the besieging army, sparkling in a vast circle on the surrounding hills, and beheld with awe by the beleaguered conquistadors.To one Spaniard, however,—to Cristoval,—viewing them from the ramparts of the Sachsahuaman, they gave hope and promise. Beside Mocho, and followed by Pedro as closely as his wooden member would permit, he had taken part in the storming of the fortress. Later, they watched the struggle in the streets below, and Mocho pointed out the Amarucancha, beneath whose roof was Rava. With strained nerves and fevered blood the cavalier had seen the conflict raging at the very doors of the palace, hardly to be withheld from descending to join in the battle, and deterred only by the manifest impossibility of reaching its front through the masses in the streets. Sick at heart he had witnessed the repulse, but with new resolution and a solemn, whispered oath. All day he had lingered on the parapet studying the city spread out like a map below him, and at nightfall the sight of the great girdle of campfires brought fresh courage. With such a host the Inca must triumph.The next morning news came that Manco had engaged the Spanish cavalry near Yucay. Later, that the Spaniards were in full retreat toward Cuzco, and an order was received from the Inca permitting them to enter the city. On the following day they appeared on the Chinchasuyu road, uncovered for their passage. The highway passed at the foot of a spur of the hill Sachsahuaman, and from the height Cristoval and Pedro watched the entry of the cavalcade. Had it not been for a dozen empty saddles and the litters borne by Cañares in the rear, the return might have been from a victory. Pennons fluttered, plumes tossed jauntily on helmets, and as they passed the lines a trumpeter blew a quickstep.Shortly after the column had entered the city achasquiarrived at the fortress announcing the approach of the Inca, and Mocho paraded his Antis to receive him. Messengers were sent to the several generals of the divisions surrounding the city, and the afternoon was spent in council with the monarch in the citadel.
CHAPTER XXX
An Encounter on the Plain of Chita
Within a few days after the passage of the Apurimac Matopo crossed, by a rapid night march, the plateau of Chita, not many leagues from Cuzco. He moved with caution, and halted, near morning, at the eastern edge of the plain, awaiting daylight before the descent into the valley of the Urubamba where lay Ollantaytambo, the rendezvous of the Inca's forces and his objective.
The column moved at sunrise. Below, a full mile almost straight down, spread the floor of the valley. The road was a masterpiece of engineering. At points it was hewn out of the solid rock; at others, supported by masonry; but everywhere of even breadth and gradient, and smoothly paved. Cristoval soon had a view of a distant town which Matopo said was Urubamba, clinging to the lower slopes of the opposite mountains, and near it the palace of Yucay, faintly visible. He saw it with a heart-throb, for here might be Rava.
Upon reaching the plain the command went into bivouac. Three days of forced marches had been exhausting, and at the earliest moment possible Cristoval disarmed, stretched himself upon his cloak under a terrace wall, and was soon asleep. He was roused by a Conibo. The sun, far past the meridian, apprised him that he had slept long.
"Viracocha," said the soldier, as the cavalier sat up, "the general would see you at once."
Cristoval noticed the man's perturbation, and gathered up his cloak to follow. He saw signs of unusual agitation among the Conibos, and that the few still sleeping were being roused. Those awake were gathered in knots, some conversing excitedly, but most were standing about, silent and profoundly depressed. Those he passed glanced at him darkly and turned away, some with muttered words which he could not hear. The cavalier, though wondering, was little disturbed; but he grew more concerned at the gloom and gravity of Matopo and his assembled officers. As he drew near he saw several nobles in the group quite unknown to him, who had apparently just arrived.
"Diós! Something hath gone awry," he said to himself, and hurried his steps. Matopo said abruptly,
"Viracocha, the Inca hath been made a prisoner."
Cristoval stopped, thunderstruck, and looked about the grim-faced circle. For a moment he was speechless, then demanded sharply: "A prisoner, sayst thou! Where is he a prisoner? Who hath made him prisoner?"
"Ah, who!" returned Matopo, fiercely. "Who but the Viracochas? He is in the Sachsahuaman. He was taken on his way to Ollantaytambo. The Auqui Paullo, the Ñustas, and most of his household are held in the palace at Cuzco, with—"
Cristoval interrupted him with a savage oath. "The Ñusta Rava? Is she again in the power of those hell-hounds?"
"All who were within the palace. Guards were put around it the moment it was known that the Inca had left the city."
Cristoval stood glowering, observed with some astonishment by the strangers, who, although already aware of his identity, were unprepared for his demonstration, and still less so for his vehement demand:—
"Matopo, what dost purpose? Whatever it may be must be quickly done, for I tell thee, the Inca's life is not worth a hair among those miscreants, and should they suspect preparations for war it would not be worth—" and he snapped his fingers. "What is thy purpose?"
"Viracocha, this is my Lord Quehuar," said Matopo, indicating the noble beside him. "In the absence of the Inca he is in command."
The cavalier turned to him with as much force as he had addressed Matopo. "Lord Quehuar, if the movement of thy troops is known in Cuzco, there is not an hour to lose. The Pizarros will hesitate less to kill the Inca than in killing Atahualpa. Thou must act without delay. Have measures been taken for his rescue?"
The old noble hesitated before replying. But there was that in Cristoval's manner, in his vigorous intensity of speech, and his total unconsciousness of any consideration other than the Inca's danger, that banished doubt and commanded deference. The old Indio felt it, and without loss of dignity.
"No steps have yet been taken, Viracocha," he said, "for we have just been released from Cuzco. Nothing is known of the assembling of the Inca's troops. We have arrived at no determination. The calamity is overpowering."
Cristoval took a step forward as he answered, "The calamity will grow hourly, Lord Quehuar. The Inca must be released. Is the fortress strongly garrisoned?"
"Not strongly. Some thirty Viracochas."
"Good!" cried Cristoval. "Give me a hundred men and some one who knoweth the fortress, and we will release him.—Hola, Pedro!"
"Aqui! Here!" answered the approaching cook. "What is to do now? I have been shaken and thumped, and despoiled of sleep worth acastellanothe minute. What is wrong, Cristoval?"
Cristoval replied in Quichua, "The Inca hath been imprisoned, and the Ñusta Rava is again in toils." Pedro halted with an exclamation, and Cristoval continued, "I say that with a hundred followers we can release him, Pedro. What sayst thou—wilt go?"
"Thou knowest, Cristoval!" replied the cook, with force. "But hast forgotten that I am myself a prisoner?"
Cristoval faced Matopo and demanded, "What of this, my lord? Wilt accept his word?"
The general signified his willingness emphatically, and Cristoval again turned to Quehuar with impetuosity: "My Lord Quehuar, permit us to march to-night."
Mocho, the fiery, strode forward. "Let me take a battalion of my Antis, General. I know the fortress to the last stone."
Quehuar deliberated, and turned to the other nobles. "My lords, we will consider it. Viracochas, we thank you for the offer of your swords." He bowed. Taking Pedro's arm, Cristoval withdrew.
The conference was prolonged. Doubts were expressed by some concerning the prudence of trusting a Viracocha, and Matopo was questioned closely. Markumi and the other Xilcalans were summoned, and finally, Cristoval himself. His manifest sincerity determined the matter, and achasquiwas sent speeding to Ollantaytambo, some hours away, bearing a command from Mocho to his Antis.
Upon Pedro fell the task of apprising the señora of a short expedition with Cristoval, and of persuading her to accompany Matopo to Ollantaytambo. This the cook achieved with rare diplomacy. The lady, vehement in her obduracy for a time, in the end consented, and with Father Tendilla, marched with the Conibos that afternoon. The Antis arrived at nightfall, two hundred strong, the pick of Mocho's warriors. At dawn the expedition moved, with Cristoval and Pedro beside Mocho at its head.
Leaving the valley for the plateau of Chita, they took the direct road to the capital. Not long after midday a scout came in to say that two mounted Viracochas, accompanied by a third man on foot, were approaching from the direction of Cuzco. The two riders were in armor and bore lances. The pedestrian was a native, and appeared to be captive. Mocho heard the report and cast a critical glance over the country about. Some distance ahead was a low plain, boggy in spots beside the road, and surrounded by broken, rocky knolls. With a directness gratifying to Cristoval's soldierly taste, Mocho broke his command into parties to surround the plain, with orders to close upon it by squads when the strangers had reached the middle, and to cover, especially, gullies and slopes which might offer avenue for flight. Enough were retained to hold the road, and they retired to a rise of ground which concealed them from the oncoming party. Cristoval looked about in surprise. The two hundred had vanished as if by magic.
The wait was not long, and as the strangers descended the opposite slope Cristoval and Pedro spurred forward. There was some surprise at their sudden appearance, but the trio did not halt. Cristoval and his companion were first to reach the middle of the plain, and drew rein to await the strangers, who advanced without suspicion. Cristoval observed that the man on foot was a noble, and seemingly little more than a youth.
Presently one of the two mounted Spaniards hailed, and Cristoval dropped his visor with the word: "Mendoza, by the saints!" Pedro grunted his surprise and followed the example, but neither replied. The movement and silence seemed to excite uneasiness, for the trio slowed up, and Mendoza called again:—
"Hola, amigos! How far to Chinchero?"
Cristoval was silent, and after consultation the others advanced scowling. At a few paces they halted, and Mendoza demanded: "Come! Have ye no tongues, you two? If ye have, find them; or move aside and give us way.Diablo! Is it thou, cook?" He had caught sight of Pedro's peg, and surveyed him in astonishment, then Cristoval, whom he failed to recognize in De Valera's armor.
Cristoval saluted, first the noble, and then, with deliberation, each of the two cavaliers, saying graciously: "Señores, your right of way endeth here. We have waited to inform you."
Mendoza started. "Ha! Peralta! God's life!—wilt dispute me passage? Stand aside, thou—"
"Gently, Señor!" interrupted Cristoval, with increased suavity. "Thy way endeth here! Canst doubt it?" He waved his hand toward the hills, and the two followed his gesture with an exclamation. The Antis were closing rapidly from all sides. The young Indio looked at the advancing warriors with no less astonishment. Cristoval went on:—
"However, Señor Mendoza, the circumstance need not prevent our personal settlement of the question of thy right of way. Here is a fair level of road—"
"Trapped, by the fiend!" bellowed Mendoza, and he turned savagely upon the noble. "Hast played us, thou dog? Well done! But—" He cast aside his lance and drew his sword—
A most sudden man, this Cristoval. He was upon Mendoza almost before the sword was bared, mace in hand. His first blow crashed upon the sword-wrist, and the murderous weapon clanged upon the roadway. The second followed like lightning, and Mendoza rolled from his saddle with a shattered helmet, while the riderless horse dashed across the plain. The second cavalier whirled his steed to fly, when Pedro charged him, struck him in mid-volt, and horse and rider went down before the impact.
The young noble had sprung back out of danger, bewildered, and hardly less shocked by the unexpected violence and clangor than if the earth had suddenly opened. Cristoval dismounted and was bending over Mendoza, unable to determine whether the man was dead, and not much concerned. The other rider was sitting up, in some disorder of mind, with Pedro hovering over him, lance in rest, admonishing him gently that he was expected to preserve a quiet demeanor. The Antis had closed upon the group, and Cristoval became aware of a hush in the encircling line. Every man was upon his knees. Mocho was just rising from a prostration before the young Indio.
"El Inca!" ejaculated Pedro. "God bless my soul!"
Cristoval started. He had scarcely noticed the youth, except to observe that he wore the ear ornaments of one of rank; but now he saw before him a replica of the features of Rava, darker, ruggedly masculine, but still the well-remembered traits. Thellautawas absent. The young monarch turned from Mocho and spoke a word to the Antis, who rose with a shout, tossing shields and javelins in a frenzy of jubilation, as he advanced to the astonished Cristoval.
"Viracocha," he said, as he offered his hand, scrutinizing the cavalier's face. "I owe thee my life. My Lord Mocho, tell me whom I am to thank."
"The Viracocha Cristoval, Sapa Inca," replied Mocho, "to whom Tavantinsuyu is—"
He stopped. The Inca had dropped Cristoval's hand as if stung, his face suddenly darkening with enmity. Cristoval stiffened, and his face slowly reddened at the affront. There was a flash in his eyes as they met the frown, and he formally saluted, saying:—
"The Inca Manco oweth me nothing."
Manco turned away abruptly. Remembered his obligation, and again faced the cavalier, as he said, without gratitude and with an effort plainly visible: "You have saved my life, Viracocha. My Lord Mocho, see that he and his companion are suitably rewarded. Assemble thy men."
He moved away burdened by a debt heavier upon his proud heart than all the insults borne at Viracocha hands; haunted by the crucifix seen on Rava's bosom—placed there by the one for whose death he had given fervent thanks to Inti a hundred times: by the hand which had now saved him from the sword of one whom he hated less. Black thoughts, with blacker ones beneath: his liberty a loathed thing! He pushed on alone, far in advance of the column which Mocho was hurriedly forming.
Cristoval glanced after him, watched the Antis gathering up Mendoza, who was groaning feebly; saw the other Spaniard secured, and as the column moved off, turned to Pedro who was regarding him with inquiry.
"By the saints, Pedro, I have little taste for such a host. I misdoubt our welcome. However," he added, after a moment's gloomy thought, "I see no help for it." He recovered his lance, which he had dropped to catch up his mace, mounted, and they rode after the column.
Mocho joined them at the first halt. His manner betrayed his uneasiness at the reception accorded the two Spaniards by his master, and he hastened to say: "The Inca is not yet aware of all his indebtedness, Viracochas; but I will make him so. You will not find him ungrateful." Cristoval inclined his head gravely, presently asking how the monarch had effected his release.
"By ruse," answered Mocho. "He confided to the new commander of the Viracochas, Hernando Pizarro, that there is treasure concealed near Yucay, and was freed to guide the two soldiers to the hiding-place."
"Aha!" said Cristoval. "Hernando back! Well, his greed hath overreached. What is in store for the Viracochas who came with the Inca?—death, no doubt?"
"They will be left at Chinchero to make their way back to Cuzco as soon as the injured one is able to walk," replied Mocho. Cristoval was surprised, but made no comment.
It was near midnight when Urubamba was reached, and having despatched heralds to announce the Inca, the command moved on to Yucay. The palace occupied a rocky shelf far above the valley. It was approached by a road which wound upward from terrace to terrace through an immense park, and after a tedious ascent the great rambling group of buildings rose at the head of the avenue. In a brightly lighted court large enough for a regiment the escort halted, and the Inca passed between prostrate menials to his apartments, accompanied by Mocho. On the latter's return the two Spaniards were led to quarters in a distant part of the building, followed by a corps of servants.
Their apartment consisted of a large salon with sleeping-rooms adjoining. It was already alight. Mocho was depressed, but took leave with cordiality, promising to join them early the following day. A few minutes later refreshments were brought. As they were about to sit Pedro inquired,
"Canst feed thyself, Cristoval?"
"Assuredly!" replied Cristoval, with mild surprise. "Why not?"
"So can I," said Pedro. "Canst get to bed without assistance?"
"Nonsense, Pedro! What dost think?—that I may drink too much?"
"Then in the name of a saint, dismiss these servants! It neither aideth me to eat to have twelve men observing me how I do it, nor my digestion afterwards. Tell them to go. They need rest." Cristoval smiled, indicated to the attendants that they were no longer needed, and Pedro sat with evident relief. "That," he observed, "is one of the reasons why I would not be a king. But now we can eat in comfort and spontaneously as becometh hungry men, notwithstanding the iciness of His Majesty. Hast guessed at the cause of that, Cristoval?"
"I've guessed in a hundred guesses, but can make naught of it. He looked not unfriendly until he heard my name. It may be that Pizarro hath smirched it with evil report. The name liked him not, 't is certain, and we may cast about for the reason. Let it go. But now, Pedro, he is free, and that meaneth war against Pizarro. Thou knowest my purpose to offer my sword."
Pedro nodded.
"It may be," continued Cristoval, "this enmity of the Inca will deny me privilege, though I scarce can think it. If not, I will fight with Mocho, and in that event, old friend, we are near to parting."
"Ah!" said Pedro, without looking up.
"Thy friendship," Cristoval went on, "hath dragged thee into rough places and more dangers than one. Mine for thee is the only return I have been able to make. It hath profited thee little, but I swear to thee, Pedro, it is warmer than I ever felt for any other man, and it will go sorely to part,amigo." Cristoval extended his hand over the table. Pedro gave it a wrench, and starting to his feet, pegged rapidly across the room and back. He halted before Cristoval with face slightly flushed, and surveyed him sternly.
"Cristoval," he growled, "sometimes thou growest wearisome. Curse it, dost think my friendship hath gone halt, like myself? Hath it travelled so far and now can go no farther? Who hath said so?"
"Nay! God forbid that I should think it," said Cristoval, rising. "But look thou, Pedro, this will be war, and against countrymen. Thou hast no quarrel."
"No?" returned Pedro, remembering again his crushed thumbs and ravaged chests. "But mayhap I have. If not, then one shall not be long wanting."
What further protest Cristoval would have made was interrupted by a rap on the door, and he opened it to Mocho. The general was disturbed and said quickly, "My friend Cristoval, the Inca would see thee immediately."
"What!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Doth he not sleep? It is near the morning."
"He hath not slept," said Mocho.
Cristoval threw his cloak over his shoulders and followed him out.
CHAPTER XXXI
Inca and Conquistador
The Inca Manco did not sleep. His attendants dismissed, he found himself alone with torturing thoughts. Lashed, stung, and seared by the recollection of a thousand Spanish outrages, of the humiliations during his imprisonment, his mind seethed with purpose of vengeance, with plans of action, and impatience for their execution. Most merciless of all was the thought that beneath his very roof were sheltered two of the hated aliens, harbored through the demands of a gratitude which he could not feel. And one of them (the one who had seduced Rava from her faith in the ancient gods, whom he had seen her mourning with he knew not—O, Inti!—what secret cause of grief, and whom he would have gladly given to death) had imposed upon him the final obligation! The sense of it bit to his proud soul like the thrust of a javelin. He would have seen this Viracocha hurled from a precipice as he would a common criminal, but the debt was there, burdening his heart like a monstrous incubus. He strode about, clutching his head, now resolved to issue a fell command, now restrained by the stern injunction of honor. The Viracocha was his guest; had, moreover, said Mocho, been zealous for storming the Sachsahuaman; had served Tavantinsuyu in other ways, and professed a wish to serve still further. With what motive, this allegiance? Ah! what motive could a Viracocha have but one?—the hope of gold! He was merely more astute than his fellows, and of deeper cunning; but the incentive was, could be nothing else. Then this debt could be acquitted!—should be acquitted that very hour! The Viracocha should have his gold and be gone. At once! Before the sun should find him beneath the roofs of Yucay!
Manco hastened to the door. He threw it open, restrained the sentinels with impatience from their obeisance, and sent one in hot haste for Mocho. The general was soon in the royal chamber. Manco stood in the middle of the floor, hot-eyed and scowling.
"Fetch the Viracocha!" he cried, impetuously, as Mocho appeared. "Hasten—the one called Cristoval—and—I will see him alone, Mocho."
Mocho hurried away, wondering and disturbed. The Inca saw the door closed, and became active. On his table was his untouched supper, served on plates and salvers of massive gold. He seized them, opened an outer door, flung out their contents, and stacked the utensils in a glowing heap. In an adjoining room were toilet articles of precious weight. They were piled beside the table service. From the niches in the walls he snatched the vases, hurled out the plants and soil, and bore them, an armful of wealth, to the stack on the table. From a chest he tossed out a fortune in jewelled armlets, wristlets, and girdles. From the walls he tore their decorations, bending and crushing them into shapelessness.
He worked eagerly, casting the articles upon the heap with scorn for the object for which they were being collected, and hating them for their worth to his enemies. As he deposited the last he heard steps, and turned to face the unwelcome guest. Cristoval was ushered in by Mocho, who retired at once, closing the door. The cavalier saluted, observing the half-suppressed agitation on the Inca's face. The monarch made slight acknowledgment, noting quickly that he wore the native costume. Manco stood beside the treasure, darkly watchful for the Spaniard's expression at sight of the gold. Cristoval glanced at the pile as he entered, but gave it no further look, regarding Manco with calm attentiveness. Unexpectedly the latter found it not easy to begin. There was a dignity in the bearing of this Viracocha which forbade the tender of the treasure and abrupt dismissal ready to his tongue a second before. The silence had become onerous when he said at last:—
"Viracocha, I have summoned you to say once more that I am in your debt. Lord Mocho hath told me all he knoweth. I am aware of your service to—to one of my kin. Yesterday you added further to my obligation, and I desire to discharge it immediately, and if possible, to your satisfaction."
The bitterness in the words and the curl of lip did not escape the cavalier, who replied, coldly: "Lord Inca, there existeth no obligation to be discharged. You will pardon my denial that any act of mine hath imposed a debt upon the Inca Manco."
The Inca made no pretence of concealing the disdain with which he received the answer and waved it aside. Stepping back from the table, he pointed at the pile of gold and said brusquely, "Take it!"
But the execrable lighting of the Spaniard's face for which he looked, and had seen so often on those of Pizarro and his companions, was absent. Cristoval ignored the treasure, but the color flashed into his face in resentment of Manco's tone and manner. "Your gold hath no worth to me, my Lord Inca," he said, with slow emphasis. "I ask no favor but your authority to pass, to-night, the guards about the palace."
"Do you reject it?" demanded Manco, with a frown.
"I beg my Lord Inca's gracious leave to decline it."
"It is not enough!" exclaimed Manco, with contempt. "Then I will increase it."
"I fear my lord doth not get my meaning," replied Cristoval, with an even voice that would have cautioned one acquainted with its significance. "I repeat, the gold is of no use to me."
Manco's frown darkened. "Then what will you, Viracocha?" he cried, impatiently. "Name it! It shall be yours. If this gold is not enough, I will load your beast with all he can bear away. But let me acquit this debt before the sun riseth upon it again."
The scorn was now Cristoval's. It burned in his steady eyes as he replied quietly: "I fear, my lord, that you will compel me to speak plainly, and I would not. If I have been of service, I beg you will believe that I should feel it depreciated by the acceptance of reward. It should be unnecessary for me to say more to a soldier, my Lord Inca."
Manco scarcely heeded his words. In his impatience to be done their sense was quite lost. His experience with the sordid and greedy Spaniards made it impossible for him to believe this one less so. He rejoined hotly: "You saved my life, Viracocha! Why?"
Cristoval answered with patience. "I was unaware that it was you, my lord. It calleth not even for your thanks."
Manco flushed, but went on. "You were about to take part in an undertaking to release me from prison. Again, why? Lord Mocho hath said that you would offer your sword to Tavantinsuyu. Why, Viracocha? Is it without hope of reward, all this? Are you of so different fibre from the plunderers of Cuzco?" He turned away with a gesture of contemptuous disbelief.
Cristoval eyed him in silence, struggling to restrain his anger at the imputation of venality. When he spoke the Inca faced him again, and met a look grown intense.
"Lord Inca Manco," said the cavalier, "you have questioned my motives. It is not my wont to defend them—with words; nor will I defend them now further than to say that it was my purpose to offer my sword without thought of reward, and less to aid you and your cause, just though it is, than to rescue one whom you hold dear—the Ñusta Rava."
At the name the Inca's face grew livid. "Ah!" he exclaimed, his voice lowered and husky with passion. "One whom I hold dear! One whom I held dear above all on earth until she came to me defiled by your accursed love, broken-hearted, wearing the symbol of your damnable belief!"
His rage was not more quick than that of Cristoval, but the latter's years gave him better self-control. The cavalier, pausing to hold himself, replied: "Defiled, my Lord Inca! 'T is a black and shameful word, applied to the Ñusta Rava, and by the great Heaven, the man with whom I could fight on equal footing should not leave this room alive with the word unswallowed!"
The Inca snatched thellautufrom his head and cast it aside. He went out, returning instantly with a pair of the short native swords. He thrust the hilts toward the cavalier.
"Choose!" he cried, hoarsely.
Cristoval's eyes blazed, and he stretched out his hand to seize the weapon. Arrested the motion, and drawing back, stood surveying the maddened youth in silence. Fight this prince, already laden with unnumbered cares, the victim of inconceivable wrongs, and on the eve of leading a life-and-death struggle to save his people? Turn a sword upon the brother of Rava?
"Choose!" commanded Manco, passionately. "Doth the Viracocha hesitate?"
Cristoval grasped a sword, and as the Inca stepped back to guard, threw it upon the table. "My lord," he said, "I have no mind to fight."
Manco's surprise gave way to quick access of anger. "What mean you, Viracocha?" he demanded, hotly. "Is this some new form of insult?"
"God forbid!" said Cristoval.
For a moment the monarch glared at him, speechless with rage and uncertainty. "Do I look upon a coward?" he asked, slowly, the scorn deepening in his eyes.
Cristoval knew that the stigma must follow his refusal, yet he started and reddened at the word. "A coward! No, my Lord Inca, not that!" he replied, meeting steadily the look of contempt and enmity. "Not a coward; and I believe you cannot think it." During a fraction of a second he felt the penetrating gaze which might have been Rava's. It passed, and Manco's brow darkened again. He was about to speak, but Cristoval raised his hand. "Lord Inca Manco," he said, gravely, "we have no quarrel. I divined but now the nature of what you hold as grievance. I call upon Heaven to witness that the Ñusta Rava hath had from me naught but honor in mine every thought."
"Honor!" repeated Manco, with renewed scorn. "Honor in a Viracocha?"
"Nay, my lord! You have heard me say that I will not fight," returned the cavalier. Manco colored under the reproof, and Cristoval went on, "There is honor even among Viracochas, and something more than lust of gold, God knoweth!" He paused again. "You spoke of the symbol the Ñusta Rava wore. I tell you, Prince, that if you come not to the faith, it betokeneth you will go upon your bended knees on the hot pavement of hell and give up thanks that your sister hath been spared your fate!" Then, with a gesture: "But I say once more, Lord Inca, we have no quarrel. We have a common enemy."
Again Manco's searching look, but he was silent, studying the man before him. Here, assuredly, was a Viracocha who differed from his kind. He had neither swaggered nor sneered. He spoke with a dignity and candor that forced respect. In his bearing was a calm pride and consciousness of strength which had baffled the unconcealed hate and bitterness with which he had been received. The frank honesty of his eyes had lent support to his words. Manco's youth had not given him a knowledge of men, and least of all could he fathom a Spaniard; but his own ingenuous temperament, shamefully as it had been abused, made him quick in an intuition that he had misjudged. But this was in his thoughts as an under-current. Before him still was a Viracocha. He tossed his sword beside its fellow, and demanded:—
"Why are you here? Of what concern to you is the rescue of the Ñusta Rava?"
Candidly Cristoval faced the rights of a brother. "Of deep concern, my lord. So deep that I overlook the manner of your questions and answer them," he replied, bluntly. "So deep that I have proffered my service, my life, if need be, to Tavantinsuyu in her behalf."
Hostility returned to Manco's eyes. He surveyed the cavalier for a moment before replying coldly, "The Ñusta Rava is the daughter of an Inca, Viracocha."
"I am acaballeroof Spain, my Lord Inca."
In silence contended the pride of two races. On the one hand, an autocrat absolute, master of an empire, ruler of multitudes—but an Indian. On the other, a soldier, an adventurer, but a Caucasian—a Conquistador. Upon the monarch, unseen, unfelt, fell the shadow of Destiny.
There was no wavering in the eyes of either. In the stern, self-possessed cavalier the Inca saw and was compelled to acknowledge, an indefinable superiority which eluded him—the genius of a breed of subjugators. Withal, there was no arrogance in this Spaniard's face; only the grave serenity of a lofty mind, a strength of spirit which rose above the distinction of the temporal rank of the Peruvian and all his might. On his own part, Cristoval beheld a kingliness ingrained: a majesty as natural as the air that Manco breathed.
Cristoval broke the pause. "My Lord Inca, I requested, a moment ago, your gracious leave to pass the guards."
Manco seemed not to have heard, but stood in gloomy meditation. Cristoval was about to speak again when the Inca replied with abruptness, "It is my will, Viracocha, that you remain within the palace."
Cristoval bowed, and again encountered the look of profound scrutiny. Manco inclined his head, and the cavalier withdrew.
CHAPTER XXXII
The Storm Breaks
Pedro was asleep in his chair, but roused when Cristoval laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Old friend," said the latter, "we are prisoners."
Pedro sat up, regarding his companion with incredulity. "Prisoners again, sayst thou, Cristoval?"
"Prisoners! I asked the Inca's leave to quit the palace at once, and was denied."
"At once! To-night?" demanded Pedro. "Well, then stew me if I'm not glad thou wast denied! Here is our supper, scarce touched. Here are two beds, immaculate. Cristoval, thou 'rt rash, hot-headed, and too impetuous by far! Now what if the Inca had given thee thy leave?"
"We should have taken it and gone," replied Cristoval.
"Como asi! Just so," said the cook, in a tone of reproach. "We should have taken it and gone—supperless, bedless, two wanderers by night. As for being prisoners, the news would have kept until morning, and I for one, would have slept none the worse."
Cristoval regarded him moodily. "Gods, but thou hast philosophy, for a captive cook!"
"Philosophy!" retorted Pedro; "'t is common sense. But come! Let us fall to, and thou tell me whilst we eat."
They fell to, and Cristoval recounted the interview. At its close Pedro remarked comfortingly: "Well, if this is durance, Cristoval, I've experienced worse, and so hast thou. Which bed wilt have? They're alike. Shall we toss for it? I have amaravedi."
"Madre! Thou'rt a cheerful cook," returned Cristoval, glumly.
They tossed for beds, sought them presently, and while Cristoval lay restless and pondering, Pedro's peaceful snore resounded through the halls of the Incas.
The cavalier was awakened next morning by the voice of Pedro in the outer room, addressing an attendant and apparently amending his salutation into Christian terms.
"Say, rather, 'May the Virgin guard you'; or, more briefly, 'Dominus vobiscum.' Either is good, and the sooner thou learnest them the better for thy soul. Is that our breakfast? Art sure? Hast not strayed into the wrong room? Hum! Well, it hath little of the look of the prison fare I've—heard tell of, for a surety! Pleased with it, boy! Why, I'm pleased from crop to tail-feathers, and that's clear through! A mere saying, my lad. Heed it not. Ah! My leg? It hath thine admiration? In my country 't is worn as a mark of transcendent virtue. Few attain it. That will do. Just leave the door open when thou goest out."
Presently Cristoval heard a low whistle of surprise, and Pedro stumped hurriedly to his door. "Cristoval!" whispered the cook, "Cristoval! He did it!"
"He did what?" demanded Cristoval.
"Left the door open, or I'm a scullion! Stir thyself!"
The cavalier stepped out. The door was broad open, admitting sunlight, perfume, and the sound of the fountain in the court. "Move, man, and we're free!" exclaimed Pedro, urgently. "There is not a soul in the patio."
"Useless, Pedro!" said Cristoval, turning away. "The place is surrounded by guards, and the valley full of troops. We should not stir five hundred yards."
"Oh, the fiend! We can try. 'T is a flaunt in the face of Providence not to try!" He looked stealthily into the court and drew back with an exclamation. "Here cometh Mocho! Shall I throttle him?"
"No!" thundered Cristoval.
Pedro shrugged. "Amigo, thou 'rt an ass!—with asinine propensities for thorns and thistles." He pegged across the room and seated himself with some violence, muttering, "This is what cometh of being a cook."
Mocho entered. "My friends," said he hastily, after their greetings, "we move in an hour toward Cuzco. The Inca hath gone to Ollantaytambo with Quehuar and Yumaquilque, who came this morning. The Antis are on the march."
"We, my Lord Mocho!" said Cristoval. "We—Pedro and myself—are prisoners. The Inca refused liberty to leave the palace."
Mocho shook his head with a smile. "No, Viracocha Cristoval. There was a council at dawn when the generals arrived, and the Inca hath accepted your service. In truth, you were not prisoners. The Inca could not so soon forget."
Within the hour the two Spaniards were leading down through the park to the valley with Mocho, and the latter said, "Viracocha Cristoval, the Antis are to take the Sachsahuaman."
Cristoval nodded. "Count us with them, Lord Mocho," he said briefly.
A few days later a foraging party of Spanish pikemen and Cañares leaving Cuzco by the Cuntisuyu road at dawn found its way opposed outside the suburb of Chaquill-Chaca by a body of Peruvian archers. The sergeant in command halted in astonishment, then with an imprecation ordered his men forward to cut a way through. Before half-a-dozen paces had been covered a flurry of arrows whizzed into their ranks. The sergeant ordered a charge, met at quarter bow-shot by a volley, and the head of his detail melted. Another discharge, and the foragers reeled, broke, and stampeded toward the city. They dashed through the dim streets crying the alarm and reached the square just as the garrison of the Sachsahuaman rushed into it from the north in wild disorder. The fortress had been surprised by an overwhelming force, and the Spaniards had fled without a blow. A few minutes later half a score of wounded straggled in, some borne by comrades. A number had been left within the fortification, dead or captive, and others had dropped along the road. Now, from the suburbs on the west and south came the distant howling of the Cañares. A soldier burst into the sleeping-room of Hernando Pizarro, admitting with him a confusion of shouts from the square and the blare of trumpets sounding to arms.
"We are attacked!" cried the soldier. "The fortress hath fallen, and the city is surrounded."
Hernando was out of bed at a bound. As he rushed out half-dressed, a horde of retreating Cañares swarmed into the square, some wounded, some naked, many unarmed, and all in panic, their savage clamor drowning the shouts of the Spanish officers struggling to form the companies. For a space it was a scene of madness. The Cañares, part terror-stricken by the suddenness of the attack, part infuriated by wounds and the sight of blood, whirled in the square like wild cattle, breaking the forming lines of the infantry, struck at by angry pikemen, fighting back, and howling. In a moment began a sputtering zip of arrows from outside, with here and there an answering shriek and plunge of some man hit, and the confusion rose to pandemonium. The sputtering increased; became a steady rain of missiles searching every yard of the place, their flight invisible in the twilight, making the vicious whir, or sharp, angry snap as they glanced on the pavement or from the walls, the more sinister. The Cañares broke for shelter in the halls of the palace of Viracocha, followed by the infantry and Candia's men dragging their guns. Here the lines were hastily reformed. A few cavaliers were in the court, already mounted; but a few only, for Juan Pizarro had gone, three days before, with almost the entire strength of the horse in a fruitless pursuit of the Inca Manco, whose rescue had been reported by the battered Mendoza and his companion.
Hernando had gotten into armor in some fashion, and was now in the saddle, adjusting his helmet while he bellowed commands. His handful of cavalry clattered after him into the hail-swept square. The infantry, not two hundred of them in all, closed in behind. No hesitancy here, but grim resolution to fight whatever odds they might find; an unreserved, deadly willingness to fight, though the legions of all heathendom were arrayed against them.
For an hour the plaza roared, thundered, and trembled; was finally cleared. The warriors of the Inca had fought with courage almost superhuman, but had been met with steel, by the crushing weight of cavalry, by the fire and havoc of guns. They retreated to the streets, and the streets were swept by falconet and arquebus. They were driven to the suburbs—and the attack had failed.
But gloom, almost despair, was with the victors. Toward night, as the city grew quiet, Hernando summoned his officers in council in the square. They gathered about him, wounded, exhausted, and filthy with carnage, scowling sullenly beneath their lifted visors, morose and taciturn. The little said was scarcely heeded, their sombre glances turning to the grim walls of the Sachsahuaman, or to the hills around the city, now dark with the legions of the Inca. Hernando heard the reports of the wounded and dead, made no comment, and the council grew dumb. The storm had broken with such fury, with unexpectedness so entire, and its apparent magnitude was so great, that hearts before unknown to fear were filled with dread. The minds of the counsellors were stunned. The few words ventured by one or another were flat in their inadequacy, and were answered by silence. Hernando at last forced some phrases of encouragement, issued instructions for the disposition of what force there was, and the council gradually dissolved without words of dismissal.
Cuzco was invested. To oppose the thousands Hernando had only his infantry, a battery short of ammunition, with a thousand or more Cañares whom nothing could induce to go into action that day, and whose fidelity in the emergency was doubtful. Of the infantry, only the arquebusiers had signal superiority over the foe, and these were few, their powder limited. What fate had befallen Juan Pizarro and his troopers he feared to guess. Whether they should be able to make their way back to the city was a conjecture which gave little cheer.
As evening came on patrols were kept moving through the deserted streets, saluted with an occasional flight of arrows when they approached the suburbs, but there seemed no disposition on the part of the Peruvians to renew encounter. Night fell as calmly over the brooding mountains as if it were not curtaining the prelude of a weary length of tragedy whose last act would mean the destruction of a civilization.
For one heart within the besieged city, crushed and broken by sorrows that had searched and torn its every fibre, the rise of the sun upon the outburst of clamor of conflict saw the last flickering of the desire to live. Shocked and terrified by the tumult outside, the yells of fighting men, the roar of charging horse, and the thunder of guns—dread sounds which told her of agony and death for her beloved people—she closed her ears and prayed to die. Life was too full of horrors. Hers had been shadowed by a pall, lifted once by love, only to fall again with deepened blackness. Behind closed doors, with darkened windows, surrounded by cowering and weeping maids, she knelt through the long hours of anguish, offering up shuddering appeals to be taken away.
The Auqui Paullo came, flushed with excitement and fierce cheerfulness. He knew the dire significance of the turmoil, and bade Rava partake his own hope. The army of the Inca was afield, and deliverance at hand. Alas! no deliverance to Rava from her bondage of grief. She waved him away and wept afresh.
Late in the day came Father Valverde from his ministrations to dying Spaniards, and she knelt at his feet, imploring his prayers for her relief. The good priest, shocked at her longing for death, hastened to banish this vestige of her barbarism; prayed beside her for the renewing of her resignation; told her again of His agony and gentle patience, of the Mother bereaved, and gave her support. Once more he spoke of the saintly lives of nuns, and she listened with yearning for their holy peacefulness. He left her at last with new hope and a resolution fast growing. Rava would take the veil.
The night which closed the first day's struggle was without alarm. The Spaniards slept beside their arms, the troopers in armor and at the picket line of their saddled steeds. Guards were doubled, and patrols kept the streets. The stars came out, but they seemed rivalled in multitude and brilliancy by the fires of the besieging army, sparkling in a vast circle on the surrounding hills, and beheld with awe by the beleaguered conquistadors.
To one Spaniard, however,—to Cristoval,—viewing them from the ramparts of the Sachsahuaman, they gave hope and promise. Beside Mocho, and followed by Pedro as closely as his wooden member would permit, he had taken part in the storming of the fortress. Later, they watched the struggle in the streets below, and Mocho pointed out the Amarucancha, beneath whose roof was Rava. With strained nerves and fevered blood the cavalier had seen the conflict raging at the very doors of the palace, hardly to be withheld from descending to join in the battle, and deterred only by the manifest impossibility of reaching its front through the masses in the streets. Sick at heart he had witnessed the repulse, but with new resolution and a solemn, whispered oath. All day he had lingered on the parapet studying the city spread out like a map below him, and at nightfall the sight of the great girdle of campfires brought fresh courage. With such a host the Inca must triumph.
The next morning news came that Manco had engaged the Spanish cavalry near Yucay. Later, that the Spaniards were in full retreat toward Cuzco, and an order was received from the Inca permitting them to enter the city. On the following day they appeared on the Chinchasuyu road, uncovered for their passage. The highway passed at the foot of a spur of the hill Sachsahuaman, and from the height Cristoval and Pedro watched the entry of the cavalcade. Had it not been for a dozen empty saddles and the litters borne by Cañares in the rear, the return might have been from a victory. Pennons fluttered, plumes tossed jauntily on helmets, and as they passed the lines a trumpeter blew a quickstep.
Shortly after the column had entered the city achasquiarrived at the fortress announcing the approach of the Inca, and Mocho paraded his Antis to receive him. Messengers were sent to the several generals of the divisions surrounding the city, and the afternoon was spent in council with the monarch in the citadel.