The Sun Virgin
Trust yourself in his power and you are lost.”
“Trust myself in his power!” the little adventurer exploded. “I trust
myself in no man’s power. My force is equal to his. I’ll know how to
take care of myself.”
To widen the breach Almagro’s ambitious secretary, Perez, had sent
a secret letter to Pizarro declaring in blunt language that Almagro
asked nothing of him, and would give him no coöperation. He had come to
establish a colony and government of his own.
This disturbing news arrived but an hour after Pizarro had received the
first word of his partner’s arrival.
It presented a crisis of the gravest importance. The life of every man
in his triumphant expedition was at stake. Every ounce of gold--the
result of daring--was threatened. With the unerring instinct of a true
leader of men Pizarro instantly decided on his course of action.
He called his own secretary and dictated a letter to Almagro breathing
in every line the best spirit of their old days of suffering and mutual
hardships:
“_Dear Comrade: I have just heard of your landing with the greatest
joy. I salute you as my equal partner in the most glorious enterprise
ever set on foot by daring men. My first stroke has been a miracle.
My good fortune is yours. We have only begun the work. We are yet
in peril. We need every soldier and every horse you can command. My
faith in you as my old comrade and partner was never stronger. I
refuse to believe the foolish statement of your secretary that you
have broken our agreement and intend to set up a rival government.
Hasten to Caxamalca. Your old friend will receive you with open arms
and equal authority._
“_Francisco Pizarro._”
Almagro’s answer to this generous letter was characteristic of the man.
He bored his secretary through with an ugly light from his one eye.
“What’s this I hear of word to Francisco Pizarro that I will set up a
rival government?”
“I only wrote what I thought your interests demanded.”
“Without my knowledge!”
“I anticipated your wishes.”
“Well, my man, you’ll not do that again.”
He called his guard and pointed to Perez.
“This fool is guilty of treason. Call my men to arms and hang him to
the nearest limb.”
The trembling secretary was led to execution and Almagro marched to
Caxamalca. Had Pizarro’s shrewd diplomacy triumphed once more?
CHAPTER XXIV
The news of Almagro’s landing and his probable joining with Pizarro at
the head of two hundred more Spanish troops threw the Inca’s household
into profound gloom.
With the rising of the heap of gold Atahualpa had regained something of
the spirit of his strong youth. He saw, with hopeful eyes, the day of
his freedom rapidly approaching. And he trusted his captor, which faith
was rather pathetic in view of his betrayal and capture. Yet nothing
was surer in the mind of the fallen monarch than that Francisco Pizarro
would keep his agreement.
Certainly there was something compelling in the personality of the
Spaniard. It accounted for his supremacy as leader of the riotous
spirits who had crowded about his standard for the past eight years,
and who saw as he saw the dream kingdom of the South, the beckoning
vision of which they had followed to success.
So it was not to be wondered at that Pizarro’s astute and commanding
mentality found it easy to dominate the simpler mind of the Inca.
Relying on the promises and friendship of his own arch enemy, Atahualpa
had gradually relaxed the nerve tension of his early tragic, depressing
confinement.
He learned of the Spaniards to play dice. With keen interest he
mastered the intricacies of chess and became an expert at the game. In
the long tedious hours of his captivity he often forgot his unhappy lot
in the fascination of the game with the strangers.
The plates and cups of his royal table were of the gold to which he had
been accustomed. His royal wardrobe was kept with immaculate care by
the Virgins of the Sun in constant attendance. On ceremonial occasions
they exchanged his vicuna-robe of silken sheen for a curious one made
of the skins of bats, soft as velvet. He resumed the wearing of the
crimson _borla_ on his forehead, the symbol of his sovereignty.
The details of his court were conducted with the same care and
reverence as before his capture.
But the shock of the arrival of Almagro threw the Inca into a fit of
deep depression. He could not know of the rivalry between the two men;
all Spaniards were alike to him and he could see only two hundred more
ravenous wolves hungry for blood and gold.
To add to his despondency, a comet appeared in the sky and seemed to
trail its long stream of cold fire over his prison. He feared it a
token of coming tragedy although the Spanish soldiers viewed it with
equal alarm as a threat against their safety and treasure.
Yma determined to take advantage of the gloom of the court and
Atahualpa’s depression to spring her plan. It must be a surprise. She
had noticed with increasing amazement the growing influence of Pizarro
over the Inca. She distrusted this power intensely and did her work in
the utmost secrecy.
She was now ready for the opportune moment to strike. Five thousand
picked men were slowly moving on Caxamalca, threading their ways one by
one over unused and dangerous trails of the mountains. The crowds now
attending the Inca’s levees would give her the opportunity needed for
the final stroke.
The day chosen was the one of the conference of priests held with their
ruler to receive his orders for the celebration of the approaching
festival of Spring, when every man from the Monarch to the rank and
file of the people would repair to the field and open the sod with a
solemn prayer to the Sun God for his blessing on the seeds and a rich
harvest in return for their labor.
The day arrived. Only the Dowager had been made privy to the secret and
she stood close beside her royal son, her handsome face flushed with
excitement in spite of every effort at self-control.
The priests bowed to the floor in reverence for their Monarch, rose and
crowded about him for his blessing and his commands for the festival.
Yma whispered to him.
“Quick, my Lord, I have the robes of a priest for you. You can don it
quickly while we cover your body. The guards outside will pass you with
your men without question. The priests around you are your faithful
warriors. Five thousand more await you in the forest beyond the
causeway.”
“How dare you plan this without my knowledge?” he asked indignantly.
“There is at least one traitor in your household,” his mother breathed.
“She feared to trust her secret. I implore you to save your life and
the life of your people.”
“I have pledged my solemn word to the commander.”
“And who will make him keep his?” she asked. “A new horde of invaders
are on the way. It may be too late when they have come--fly at once.”
“Am I a coward to flee from my own palace in my own kingdom?”
“No--put yourself at the head of your men,” Yma begged. “Five thousand
warriors will attack these invaders before nightfall.”
“Silence!” the Inca sternly ordered.
A hush as of death fell on the black-robed throng massed about his
person.
“My word is pledged. It is sacred. Go.”
He pointed to the door and the “priests” slowly filed out. Their five
thousand comrades again melted into the forest, and Yma found her way
with a heavy heart to the house of the prisoner she loved. Her head
was swimming. A sense of utter despair gripped her soul. The Inca had
failed to take the tide at its height.
CHAPTER XXV
Almagro, at the head of his two hundred men, arrived at Caxamalca the
middle of February. The occasion was made one of great joy and feasting
by order of Pizarro.
In a gust of stormy emotion the commander met his partner with
outstretched arms and the two men embraced.
“Our dreams have come true, my comrade!” Pizarro cried. “For eight
long years you and I have been laughed at and ridiculed. The deed is
done. Our names--yours and mine--go down in history with all the glory
we have dreamed and more. It’s yours--it’s mine. The treasure we have
taken here is but a token of what is yet to come. The two hundred loads
of gold from Cuzco scarcely made an impression on its riches.”
“Then we’ll on to Cuzco!” shouted the little partner.
“This is now possible with your help and the help of your two hundred
brave men. A vast empire of twelve million people, with all its power
and wealth, is ours. There is room for all. There are fortunes for all.”
“Good!” Almagro exclaimed. “We forget our differences!”
Pizarro grasped the extended hand.
“And pledge anew our loyalty and eternal friendship.”
But one man refused to shake hands with the new captain. Hernando
Pizarro not only failed to join in the welcome, but hung back with
words of bitter insult to all who came to hear his ugly talk.
He complained loudly to De Soto whose judgment he prized.
“Now that we have won an empire,” he snarled, “this ignorant, coarse
little ass appears on the scene to share our honors and demand a
division of our treasures. It’s more than human flesh can endure. My
brother Francisco is a sentimental fool. He talks of comradeship and
loyalty. The one-eyed ugly brute hates him and he is too generous to
see it. Or seeing and knowing it, he passes it over for the sake of the
old days at Panama.”
De Soto maintained a stolid silence to the tirade of abuse and promptly
followed his chief in extending a cordial welcome to Almagro.
Francisco Pizarro faced his brother trembling with passion.
“All my life,” he complained, “I’ve looked up to you with the loyalty
and love of a little boy for his big elder brother. When the Emperor
showered honors on me, I hurried to Truxillo to share them with you. I
have honored you above all the men under my command.”
“And have I ever failed you when danger called?” Hernando demanded.
“In your sullen pride and overbearing manners towards my comrades in
arms--yes! You embroiled me once in a dangerous quarrel with Almagro
in Panama. You are now risking a clash of arms between us at a moment
that imperils the work of a lifetime. I cannot and will not permit such
folly!”
“Clash of arms? What do you mean?” Hernando interrupted.
“Just what I say. The sight of our treasure will excite his men. I
signed with Almagro a contract providing that he should receive a
third of all the spoils taken. He has under his contract the legal
right to demand his third. If he does, and persists in the demand, his
two hundred men will back him up. They outnumber our force. In such a
clash the Inca’s army may rise and all is lost. You must apologize to
Almagro.”
“I’ll fight the little beast down to the bottom of hell first!”
Hernando shouted.
Francisco squared himself before his brother with his heavy jaws set.
“You’ll go with me now to his rooms and apologize in my presence, or
I’ll deprive you of your command and put you in irons!”
“I dare you to try it!” the older brother hissed.
“I’ll not try it,” was the firm answer, “I’ll do it. Will you obey my
orders as your superior officer?”
Hernando sullenly submitted, followed his brother to Almagro and gave a
grudging apology. He hurried from the hated presence and left Francisco
with an angry frown watching his departure.
Almagro slipped an arm around his old partner and laughed.
“It’s all right, Francisco. Forget it. It’s all right with me.”
“Well, it’s not all right with me, and I’ll see that he gives us no
further trouble. I’ll send him to the Court of Spain to deliver the
Crown’s fifth to the Emperor.”
“And we’ll be rid of him! Great!” The little partner shouted.
“Francisco Pizarro, you’ve brains as well as brawn. I’ve always said
it.”
“That satisfies you?”