The Sun Virgin
“Soldiers of Spain! When the crucial moment comes, I depend on you! No
hurry, no confusion, deadly order and obedience. In concert move coolly
and swiftly to your tasks.”
He carefully inspected their arms. To the cavalry he gave his especial
attention. On these would depend the stroke that would bring victory.
The wide openings were made for such a charge as he planned. In
solid lines the troops were pressed far back into the shadows of the
building. The floor was on a level with the plaza. They could charge
four abreast without pause from the depths of their hiding place. He
was careful to see that the breastplates of every horse was set with
bells. This would add to the terror of their charge.
The orders of attack given, the inspection complete, the men were
served a hearty breakfast, and the priests, who came under the
provisions of the charter, called them to mass, which was celebrated
with great solemnity in the somber shadows of the building in which
the cavalry were stationed. At the end Pizarro prayed the God of their
fathers to strengthen their arms for the battle to extend the Kingdom
of the Cross over the world. He led and all joined in singing the
chant, “_Exsurge, Domine_”--“Rise, O Lord, and judge Thine Own
Cause!”
Whatever his faults the cavalier of Spain in the sixteenth century
was not a hypocrite. In this hour of sublime daring he was the true
believer--a soldier of the Cross. For the moment he forgot his lust for
gold in the greater issues of life and death.
Pizarro watched his men with deep satisfaction. They were fired with
enthusiasm. Such men, in the crisis, would be true to their religion,
their leader and themselves.
It was noon before a decided movement could be seen in the camp of
the Inca. The men were growing restless, when a messenger arrived.
The _Quicha_ language had no alphabet, and, the words made with
the knotted colored strings of the _quipa_ being unknown to the
Spaniards, the message was delivered by spoken word.
“Our Lord of the Sun begs to inform you that he comes fully armed in
the same manner as your messengers to his camp last night. The delay in
movement is due to the selection of his soldiers, that he may honor his
guests with his best.”
The message was ominous. While Pizarro had no right to expect that the
Emperor would come unarmed, yet he had hoped it might be possible.
That he should spend half the day in selecting his best warriors was
disconcerting. He commanded his attendants to keep from the men the
meaning of the message. He could afford to express to the messenger no
surprise or regret at his announcement. On the other hand he went out
of the way to express his pleasure at the news.
“Inform your master, that, come as he will, he will be received as a
friend and brother!”
An hour later the Indian procession began its slow march in state
towards Caxamalca. When the procession had reached the causeway the
Spaniards could see hundreds of men with brooms sweeping the way clear
of dust and rubbish for the passage of their sovereign.
And when the causeway was crowded, the procession having come halfway
across it, there spread over the meadows a vast army of tens of
thousands. The sight was disturbing and it gave Pizarro a bad hour. He
was thankful that only the few men stationed on the ramparts of the
fortress with Pedro de Candia could see the swarm of these ugly looking
locusts.
Pizarro hurried to Candia in person.
“Warn your men to be silent. See that no word of this great host
reaches the soldiers hidden below.”
“Not a word.”
The commander hurried back to his position and watched the approaching
throng on the causeway with kindling eyes. It would matter little how
many men were massed in the meadows if he once captured the Inca. He
could see now the gold litter of the sovereign high above the heads
of his staff borne on the shoulders of noblemen in gorgeous attire.
Their dazzling, gold trimmed uniforms completely surrounding the litter
blazed in the sun.
At the end of the causeway, Pizarro saw to his dismay that the Inca had
ordered a halt and his soldiers began to put up their tents for the
night. Before he could recover from his surprise, a second messenger
arrived from the royal procession. He spoke with authority.
“The Lord of the Sun pitches his tents at his present position. He will
enter the city in state to-morrow morning.”
Pizarro received the news with ill-concealed distress. His men had
gripped their arms since daylight. Their nerves had been for hours
taut to the snapping point. They had held their entrusted positions
in a silence broken only by the call of the sentinels on the ramparts
marking the approach of the Inca. Another night of this was more than
flesh could endure. The suspense would quench enthusiasm and breed
panic. The old soldier was too wise in his knowledge of men to doubt
this for a moment. He must urge the monarch to change his plans.
His manner was suave, but his tones were cordially urgent as he spoke.
“Say to your royal master that his decision to camp in the open for the
night has greatly distressed me. We beg him to enter the city at once,
as we have prepared a table with rare refreshments in his honor and
expect him to dine with us to-night.”
The returning messenger could not reach the Inca for a moment. A
delegation of priests blocked his way.
Yma had prostrated herself before Atahualpa and her clear tones could
be heard in an earnest prayer.
“I beg the Lord of the Sun to hear his servants.”
“I have heard once and rejected their advice--what more?”
“They have consulted the signs of the altar.”
“So did they consult for Huascar at Cuzco and their advice was wrong.
In great moments I think for myself.”
“I pray you, O Lord, hear them.”
The Chief Priest of the Temple pressed forward and spoke with trembling
earnestness.
“The signs, O Lord of the Sun, tell of dire evil. We implore you to
change your purpose and return to your imperial camp.”
Atahualpa lifted his hand in a gesture of angry impatience.
Yma again prostrated herself before him crying:
“And I bring to you, our Lord, sad assurances from my beloved, noblest
and wisest of all these men, that you are in grave danger.”
“Your god-man sends me this message of warning against his own people?”
“Not in words,” she admitted.
“How then?”
“I asked of him their purpose. He could not tell. But from his tone
and words I caught the sense of uneasiness. He has learned greatly to
respect and admire you in spite of his chains and imprisonment. He
fears for your safety.”
“He fears for their safety!”
The Inca sneered. Over the heads of the priests he caught a gesture
from his messenger and called him to report.
“The strangers have prepared a feast for the Lord of the Sun. They
expect him to dine with them to-night. They beg that he does not
disappoint them.”
The Inca turned sharply to his priests.
“Return immediately to the temple and your duties. No more of your
cackling. As for you, presumptuous girl--” He paused and fixed Yma
with his eyes.
“I spared your life once when you had gone too far. Another mission of
this kind and I will bury you alive within the hour.”
The girl bowed humbly.
“I beg your pardon, Lord of the Sun. I came with the priests drawn by a
great reverence for your holy person. I pledge anew my oath of loyalty
to your service.”
He waved her aside.
In spite of his warnings Yma lingered among his attendants, her heart
sickened with a dumb terror.
As if to mock the fears and warnings of his people he turned to his
messenger and spoke in clear command.
“Return at once to the Spanish commander and say that I will accept
his cordial invitation to dine at his table to-night. And say that my
trust in him is so great that I will enter informally with only unarmed
attendants.”
A low murmur of surprise and consternation came from his noblemen,
and a cry of pain from Yma. But none dared brook his anger by further
protest. It was evident to all that he resented their fears as unworthy
of his exalted rank and power.
“And say to the Spaniard,” the Inca added, “that he may reserve for my
accommodation to-night the House of the Serpent opening on the plaza.”
Pizarro received the astonishing message with a grim smile.
“Verily God hath delivereth the enemy into our hands!” he breathed
devoutly.
The word was quickly passed and once more the soldiers gripped their
weapons in a tense silence.
As the sun was sinking behind the peaks of the _cordillera_
the royal procession entered the gates of the city. As the Spaniard
watched he could now have little doubt that the first purpose of the
march with a splendid army was for display and in honor of his guests.
The acceptance of the invitation to dine showed a confidence in his
visitors and a sense of security in his own power. The audacity of an
attack on his person by a handful of men was evidently unthinkable.
The plan was working. Pizarro watched the spectacle with trembling
eagerness.
First came the hordes of sweepers cleaning the streets of every piece
of rubbish. As they neared the plaza a chorus of hundreds of voices
burst into a triumphant song that rang in strange echoes through the
shadows of the halls. The startled horses pricked their ears and lifted
their heads. A stallion neighed in answer and the rider threw him to
his haunches in stern rebuke.
Behind the sweepers and singers slowly moved a mass of attendants with
symbols of the various divisions of industry in the Empire. They were
dressed in gay liveries. Some wore cloaks checkered white and red like
a chess board.
One division wore pure white and carried maces of silver and copper.
The royal guard wore uniforms of rich azure decorated with many
precious stones. The Peruvian noblemen were easily distinguished by
the profusion of gems and the huge pendants that hung from their ears.
In an open litter Atahualpa sat on a magnificent throne of gold,
gleaming in the rays of the sinking sun. The canopy above his litter
was covered with the gayest plumes of tropical birds and studded with
gem-set yellow plates. He wore a costume of more resplendant materials
than at his first reception. His neck was circled with a collar of
brilliant emeralds of enormous size, and the scarlet _borla_ that
bound his brow was bordered with priceless stones. He glanced at the
crowds of his attendants with an air of commanding indifference.
As the royal procession entered the square the ranks opened and stood
in silence awaiting the advance of the Inca’s litter. The monarch
passed through the long lane of his people in silence. Not a Spaniard
was to be seen.
No hint of the tragic meaning of their absence yet dawned on his mind.
A moment of suspicion and there was yet time for a swift withdrawal to
the head of his army in the meadows. In perfect confidence his litter
slowly moved to the center of the plaza surrounded by five or six
thousand attendants.
The sharp eyes of Pizarro saw the crowd close behind him.
“Where are the Spaniards?” the Inca inquired.
In answer to his question, Vincente de Valverde, the Dominican friar
who acted as Francisco Pizarro’s chaplain, stepped from the building in
which the infantry lay concealed, carrying his Bible and crucifix and
approached the monarch who had descended from the litter.
The friar with dignity and solemn mien preached a sermon to the heathen
potentate and his assembled people.
“I am here, Your Highness,” he began in measured tones, “by order of
our commander to expound to you the doctrines of the true faith. For
this purpose the Spaniards have come, at great expense and suffering
many perils, across the sea.”
He first proclaimed with high-sounding phrases the mysterious doctrine