The Sun Virgin
withdrawn to make room for his troops. It was so. Not a man, woman,
child, or animal had been left behind. The silence was uncanny. The
echo of horses’ hoofs and soldiers’ heavy shoes reverberated with weird
sounds. At the entrance to the city they had passed a majestic temple
adjoining a convent in which dwelt the Virgins of the Sun, but there
was no sign of life in either building. The capital of an empire was
deserted.
The main street through which they marched led to a large triangular
plaza which recalled to Pizarro the Zocodoro of Toledo. And with the
memory came the new consciousness of his destiny as the Viceroy of a
mighty Christian Emperor.
He halted, surveyed the scene with care, dismounted, and with his
brother, Hernando, and De Soto inspected the buildings. Spacious halls
with wide openings on the square filled one side. At the further end of
the plaza stood a fortress with a main stairway leading from the city
and a smaller one from the country beyond. On rising ground commanding
the whole city stood another fortress of hewn stone surrounded by three
walls of massive masonry.
The sun was now obscured by the clouds of a coming storm and Pizarro
decided to send a delegation at once to inform the Inca of his arrival.
He selected for this delicate and tragically important mission
Hernando De Soto, not his overbearing and rash elder brother. He had
been quick to appreciate the sterling qualities of the cavalier who had
brought a hundred volunteers to his standard when sorely needed. His
brother had gained an unwholesome influence over Francisco Pizarro, but
in this moment of supreme trial his brain overruled his heart and he
selected the man best fitted to the task.
De Soto gathered fifteen horsemen, among whom rode Teresa and Gaspara.
He was not going forth to battle. His mission was one of diplomacy.
At the last moment, struck by the small force sent on such a novel
mission, the commander ordered his brother Hernando to follow as rear
guard with twenty more horsemen.
Between the city and the camp of the Inca on the slopes of the hills
stretched a wide meadow, across which ran a stone-built causeway.
Across this paved highway the little squadron of fifteen horses
galloped with banners flying and lances set. A mile brought them to the
Peruvian camp. Before each tent stood the lances and battle-axes of the
men within. A few Indian troopers lounged along the highway and watched
the strange procession of horses and men with profound astonishment.
They had not yet fully comprehended the fact that horse and man were
not a single being. To their eyes, unaccustomed to the sight of a
horse, they were looking at a curious kind of human centaur with the
four legs and feet of a beast and the head and upper body of a man.
At the outer edge of the greensward on which the pavilion of the Inca
stood, Hernando Pizarro, unable to restrain his curiosity spurred his
horse forward and joined De Soto.
Atahualpa was seated Turkish fashion on a huge gold-meshed cushion in
front of the pavilion of his baths, surrounded by a group of richly
robed noblemen accompanied by their wives. The entire corps of five
hundred Virgins of the Sun from the Convent of Caxamalca attended the
sovereign under the leadership of Yma.
The monarch’s face was a mask that gave no inkling of the thoughts
passing in his brain. He wore his full robes of State.
The High Priest, or _Villac Vmu_, was also in full regalia and
an even more striking figure than the Inca. Above a dark sleeveless
garment covering the old man’s body was wound a silk-like white toga
adorned with gold and precious stones, bordered with red fringe and
tassels. His bare arms were circled by bangles. From his left wrist by
a chain of gold hung the concave mirror with which, at the feast of
Raymi, he had kindled the sacred fire on the Sun God’s altar. On his
head he wore a tiara-like crown blazing with the emblem of the Sun,
and below his chin was fastened the golden sickle of the new moon.
The invaders noted with surprise that the High Priest’s make-up was
strikingly like that of an important dignitary of their own church.
In keeping with his jealous, overbearing character, Hernando Pizarro
usurped De Soto’s place as spokesman and without dismounting from his
horse, addressed the Inca.
“We have come, Your Highness, ambassadors from my brother, commander
of the white men, to inform you of his arrival in Caxamalca. Subjects
of a mighty prince beyond the seas, we are here, drawn by reports of
your powers and your victories, to offer our services and proclaim the
doctrines of the true religion which we profess. My brother, as general
in command and Viceroy of our Emperor, Charles V, invites you to visit
him at his present quarters.”
To this the Inca made no reply although its purport had been made clear
by Felipillo the interpreter. He did not so much as lift his head.
A nobleman standing near broke the embarrassed silence by murmuring:
“It is well.”
With rare discretion Hernando Pizarro restrained his anger at the
apparent affront and again urged the Inca to speak. His manner was ever
courteous.
“We are distressed and puzzled at Your Highness’ silence. We beg to
know what is your pleasure?”
A little smile played about the Inca’s fine mouth and he slowly replied:
“Tell your captain that I am keeping a fast that will end to-morrow
morning. I will then visit him with my staff. In the meantime, he may
occupy the public buildings on the square and no others, till I come,
when I will order what shall be done.”
The cool peremptory tone in which the command was given was not lost
on the Spaniards, particularly on De Soto, a man of far greater poise
and judgment than Hernando Pizarro.
In the moments of embarrassed silence which followed, Teresa who had
reined her white charger beside De Soto, saw her opportunity to win a
personal contact with the camp that might lead to a clew of Molina’s
fate. That he was alive, she was absolutely sure. Noting the keen
interest in her horse taken by the Inca and mistaking the intense gaze
of Yma she instantly determined on the plan.
She suddenly gave her horse the rein, dashed furiously over the level
ground, wheeled, charged, recharged, and displayed her excellent
horsemanship before the wondering throng. Swinging back to the royal
pavilion she brought her charger to his haunches so close to the Inca
that the foam of his mouth touched the monarch’s robe. The crowd surged
in a wave of alarm and a guard standing beside Yma drew back in terror
and dropped his lance.
The girl stared for a moment at Teresa. She knew, then, this Daughter
of the Sun. For she loved. She loved a strange god-man from beyond
the peaks, from beyond the borderless sea. She loved him with all the
fervor of her race, with all the warm passion that centuries of sun
worship had endowed her, and she knew. Her love tore away Teresa’s
mannish garb. The Spanish girl stood before her as if naked. And Yma
knew this was her adversary. She stared, and in her gaze was tender
challenge. Also there was a look of fear, but she smothered it, and
denounced the lancer’s cowardice to the Inca.
The Emperor was stern. Also, it might have been that he wished to make
an impression. He ordered the man’s instant death.
Teresa sprang from her horse, and the act created the greatest
consternation among the natives. The strange being had divided into two
parts before their eyes! The Inca alone seemed unconcerned.
Teresa appealed for the man’s life.
“I beg of Your Highness to remember that your guard had never before
seen a horse. Mine is so fierce and beautiful it was not to be wondered
at that the man lost his head for a moment. As an act of good will
toward me and my people I ask his pardon.”
The monarch stared in new amazement as he recognized the woman beneath
the shining coat of mail.
The Inca smilingly replied:
“His life is spared, and he will follow you as your servant.”
The trembling guard sprang to Teresa’s side murmuring his gratitude.
Yma attempted too late to warn the Inca.
“Recall him, oh, Lord of the Sun,” she begged. “He will surely reveal
the secret of Molina’s prison and I shall be lost--recall him!”
The monarch sternly refused and waved the girl back to her duties as
hostess of the royal household.
At her command the Sun Virgins swarmed about their visitors offering
delicious wines in huge goblets of gold. The Spaniards drank with
eager grip on the massive yellow vessels and sharp eyes for the
beauties who served.
Yma cleared the space before the ranks of mailed Knights and led her
five hundred Virgins of the Sun in a dance of enchanting beauty. From
the space behind the Inca’s seat, the strains of music came with
far-off plaintive call. The swaying bodies of the girls were again the
incarnation of the soft sensuous strains.
The cavaliers rode back to Pizarro in silence, depressed at the vast
display of power, and fired by the beauty of the magnificent reception
accorded them. They could not escape the feeling of sheep fattened for
the slaughter. A trap had been set, they had walked into it, and the
gate had closed behind them.
CHAPTER XVII
As the squadron of thirty-five horsemen approached Caxamalca a
hailstorm broke over the town and they galloped furiously across the
causeway to escape the sharp teeth of its jagged missiles of ice.
Teresa’s new servant had mounted behind Gaspara. She led him into the
quarters assigned and began at once to question him sharply as to
Molina’s fate.
The man, grateful for his life and charmed by her beauty and
gentleness, became a willing slave and told all he knew with eager
honesty.
“The Spaniard has been attached to the royal household since his
arrival, dear lady. Yma, first of the Sun Virgins, whom you saw leading
their dances to-day, was given him for wife.”
“His wife?” gasped Teresa.
“So the monarch decreed.”
“He lives with her as man and wife?” the girl asked in amazement.
“I only know, dear lady, that Yma lives with him, presides over his
house and ministers to his wants with many servants.”
“And where is he now?” she fiercely asked.
“When your army approached,” he paused and dropped his voice, “he was
imprisoned by orders of the Inca.”
“And why imprisoned if he had taken a wife and joined his fortunes with
the empire?”
“He wished to join his people....”
Teresa laughed in triumph. What he might or might not have done
mattered little; what he would do now, had he the chance, meant
everything.
“Where is he imprisoned?”
“In the great fortress on the crest of the mountain behind the city. We
know that he has been put in chains.”
Again the girl cried for joy.
“In chains, you say?”
“Yes. He tried to escape. Yma caught him, brought him back and the
governor ordered him manacled.”
“I’ll kiss his chains. Lead me to the spot to-night.”
Hastily eating a supper Teresa with Gaspara and her new servant crept
cautiously through the town still beaten by the storm, crossed the
causeway, passed the camp of the Inca and carefully climbed the long
steep stairs of stone.
The man led the approach with the safe tread of a cougar. Only in
flashes of distant lightning could the outlines of the huge pile be
seen. The only possible entrance lay from the upper side where the
massive stone door swung open when released from within.
“Can the guard be bribed?” Teresa whispered.
In vain the interpreter tried to make the simple native understand the
question. It was beyond his ken. Gold was a thing used by the Emperor
for pots and pans, plates and cups and ornaments, but there was no
incentive for any man to accumulate it. It was useless trash to the
average citizen whose wants were all supplied by the State. A guard