Chapter X

The pilot Ruiz had held a steady course from Panama for the Bay of Tumbez. But, swept out of it by head winds and adverse currents, he was compelled to anchor in the Bay of St. Matthew, many miles north of his destination.

Pizarro put his forces ashore and ordered his ships to keep in touch with his signals. Marching southward he discovered a large village, assaulted and captured it, and secured a rich spoil of gold and silver vessels and many emeralds of great value.

The road became a waste of desert sands, drifting and yielding underfoot and blinding his men as they breasted the wind. The glare of the full equatorial sun was almost unbearable.

The bravest scout of his forces was a slender girl on a white horse always leading the van. Others dreamed of gold, she of a gallant lover deserted for more than two years in a tropic wilderness of the South.

A strange plague of ulcers swept the little army with extraordinary severity. Many died and received of their priests burial with the white sands of the desert as their shrouds.

Pizarro halted at the Gulf of Guayaquil and received a deputation of chiefs from the Island of Puna off the Bay of Tumbez. They invited him to their shores and offered safe passage on their _balsas_.

In spite of the warnings of his interpreters Pizarro decided to accept the invitation. He immediately dispatched all three of the ships back to Panama with the treasure which he had taken, and a call for recruits.

His little army was embarked on the huge _balsas_ of the islanders and safely landed. They camped on a good site selected by the chiefs and every soldier was provided with comfortable quarters. He resolved to remain till the end of the rainy season when the arrival of reënforcements would make his descent on Tumbez in ships an easy task.

The _curaca_ of Tumbez no sooner heard of the arrival of the friendly strangers who had visited their city two years before than he sent a delegation of armed men and invited the Spaniards to the mainland. The visitors, on the day of their landing, warned Pizarro of the treachery of his hosts, having discovered a secret meeting of the chiefs to organize an insurrection.

The Spaniard acted promptly. He surrounded the meeting, took prisoners the chiefs and turned them over to the officer from Tumbez. He claimed supreme authority over the island and its inhabitants, and immediately put them to death.

The people, enraged by the act, armed themselves and attacked Pizarro in thousands. The islanders rushed forward in confused masses and were cut down by Hernando Pizarro at the head of his cavalry.

Francisco Pizarro refused to permit Teresa to expose herself in the battle.

The sound of muskets did deadly work among the confused charging hosts. They were thrown into a panic at the first roaring volley; and the wild charge of Hernando Pizarro’s steel-clad horses completed the rout. The islanders fled into woods and disappeared.

Four Spaniards had been killed and many wounded, among the wounded Hernando Pizarro. The natives had been beaten, but remained ugly enemies. They hung on the edge of the forests, cut off stragglers and kept the Spanish camp in continuous alarm.

At this crisis Pizarro sighted two vessels from Panama. The ships brought a new captain, destined to make history. They were commanded by Hernando de Soto and carried a hundred volunteers with many horses.

The leader decided to embark at once for Tumbez. The interpreters had informed him that the empire had been divided and exhausted by a bloody civil war between the two brothers who were rivals for the throne. The moment was opportune for his invasion. A small army of Spaniards might accomplish a miracle under such conditions.

On landing at Tumbez, Pizarro was astonished to learn that one of his _balsas_, which had preceded him, loaded with baggage in charge of three of his men, had been captured by natives when it touched the shore. All three of the soldiers had been dragged into the brush and killed. Another _balsa_, loaded with his own effects, was barely saved by Hernando Pizarro’s charge of cavalry through the mud of the beach at low tide. The horses plunged in slime to the saddle girths but drove the attacking party to cover.

Pizarro was dumfounded at his reception. He had left the place with mutual expressions of high and friendly regard, promising a speedy return. It seemed impossible that news of his first attack on a village in the far north could have reached Tumbez.

He was still further amazed on entering the city to find it a complete wreck. But four or five private dwellings were left standing. The roof of the great Temple of the Sun had been burned. Only its walls remained and the interior had been stripped of all treasure.

The invaders were dismayed. The scene of utter desolation brought to the bold commander a moment of misgiving. What had happened? If he had to march through such scenes of ruin, why march at all? Could it be possible that the monarch of whom he had heard so much was a man of military genius? The ruins of Tumbez pointed to such a possibility. Yet the idea seemed preposterous. No ruler of millions could thus begin the destruction of his possessions to starve an army whose strength he had not tested. There must be another explanation. He hastened to find it, and he had need of haste. Tumbez had been the cry of every man on the way. He had never tired telling of its glories. His men began to throw sullen looks and laugh in ways that were disturbing.

“God’s light!” he heard a grizzled veteran growl. “And this is the glory of Peru! This the city of gold and silver, where even the trees are made of precious metal! Give me a tavern in Panama with a good drink of liquor. I can doze and dream there with less trouble.”

Pizarro dispatched scouting parties through the surrounding territory and brought in a few captives. Among his prisoners he luckily found the _curaca_ of Tumbez.

When arraigned and asked an explanation of the attack on his men, the governor pleaded ignorance of the occurrence. It could only have been the folly of desperate stragglers or army deserters acting on their own initiative. During the civil war Tumbez had been stripped of its defenders who were serving in the army of Atahualpa, now supreme lord of all the empire. In their absence the fierce tribes of Puna, who had lured him to their island to destroy him, had attacked Tumbez and laid it in ruins.

The Spaniard was not sure of the truth of the explanation. There was still a chance that the city had been destroyed to prevent its capture by his men. The violence of his first attack in the north might, after all, have inspired this method of accomplishing his ruin. The _curaca_ offered his humble submission and promised the loyalty of his people.

Pizarro accepted the surrender and determined at once on a new policy. A people who could destroy a city and withdraw before an invasion were a force to be reckoned with. His only sane policy in meeting such a situation was to use strategy. He must advance with care. He must disarm fear. He must make the natives his friends.

Urged by Teresa, the commander made of the governor the most searching inquiries as to the fate of Alonso de Molina.

“The reports are contradictory,” the _curaca_ apologized. “Some say that he died of the plague. Others that he died in battles of the civil war. Still others claim that he lost his life in a struggle over a beautiful girl. The truth we know not.”

“He’s lying, Your Excellency,” Teresa muttered.

“Perhaps so, my child,” he soothed. “We’ll yet find the truth, never fear.”

The news of Molina’s death Teresa did not believe for a moment. Others were more easily convinced, and the word spread quickly through the camp. It was an ominous opening of the campaign. The golden city of their dreams was a blackened ruin, the first three men who touched shore had been killed, and now the news had come that the gallant cavalier Alonso de Molina had perished somewhere in the depths of Peru’s endless jungles.

The leader saw with clear vision that it would be impossible to make his headquarters at Tumbez. There would be a mutiny. A curse was on the place. He must move his men for new advances or lose control of them.

He left a small garrison to guard the sick, and boldly began to reconnoiter the interior. His soldiers were instructed, under penalty of death, that they should not lift a hand against a native unless attacked, and in that case, to use every effort to make peace at the earliest moment. They should neither attack nor rob. He would go always as a messenger of peace and good will.

Keeping to the coast line with his main division he sent Hernando de Soto with a troop of his horsemen to explore the edges of the sierras.

His new policy was a success. The natives met his friendly advances in the kindliest spirit, and the fame of his genial temper spread far and wide. The people were consumed with curiosity to see the strange beings of whose prowess they had heard so much. They now welcomed him with open hospitality. They quartered his troops in their houses or in the royal post stations and provided them with the best food.

At every stop the invaders issued a proclamation, in the name of the Holy Vicar of God, and his emperor, Charles V, requiring the obedience of the people as vassals to his royal master.

As the natives had no idea what he was talking about, they received his announcements with good humor, and their submission was duly recorded by the notary.

The invader selected the site of his first settlement in the rich valley of Tangarala on the banks of a river that opened on the sea. Here he concentrated all of his forces, built a church, an arsenal, a storehouse, a courthouse and fortress; and a town government was organized with a full staff of officials.

When the fortress had been completed and his power established he used for the first time a clause of his charter which established chattel slavery. Under the right of _repartimiento_ he allotted to each colonist a number of the natives needed to assist him in his work. The land had been staked out before this provision for labor had been made.

Here, Pizarro waited in vain for further reënforcements from Panama and finally made the bold decision to invade a kingdom of twelve million people with an active force of less than two hundred men. There were dangers ahead, and dangers in further delay. His men were growing restless and the younger blades were ready for mischief if not employed on bold adventures. He could not afford to wait for more men.

He left fifty to garrison San Miguel. With them remained the royal treasurer, the inspector of metals, and all the officers of the Crown. Antonio Navarro was made commander of the fortress.

Pizarro then struck boldly into the heart of the country in the direction of the reported camp of the Inca. If his army was too small to fight he still counted on his powers of strategy. He could at least meet the sovereign and offer his men in the service of the imperial army.

He had been informed that the Inca was at Caxamalca beyond the first _cordillera_ of the Andes. He inquired at every stop for news of Molina.

Five months had passed since the day of his ill-fated landing at Tumbez and he was still unable to gain an adequate idea of the number of people in the empire or the positions of the main units of the native army. From his interpreters he had learned that more than three hundred thousand men were enrolled in the standing army. This might be a gross exaggeration, or it might be an underestimate of the truth. The only way to find out was to march into the camp of the ruler.

Only the bravest of adventurers, the conquerors of the sixteenth century, could have conceived or dared to execute this move. Pizarro was a gambler first and last. All he asked was half a chance, and he played for the highest stakes. Dangers and difficulty spurred him to the greatest reach of achievement. His faith in the fulfillment of his mad dream had become, after seven years of toil, struggle and disappointment, an obsession. His confidence now was supreme. The odds against him were overwhelming, but the fact only spurred him to greater daring.

As his little band advanced through the foothills it became entangled in a jungle almost impenetrable. Shadows steamed with poisonous vapors, mingled with the perfume of gorgeous flowers. Hundreds of parrots mocked from the trees. Monkeys chattered and squealed. Snakes slipped by and struck from points of vantage. Alligators, lying on the banks of sluggish streams, snapped their jaws with fatal aim. A man sank in a deadly morass and disappeared before the terror-stricken eyes of his comrades.

Pizarro was compelled to halt and spend the night in the jungle, determined now to retreat and find a better way in a flank movement toward the mountain ranges.

His men were for the moment overwhelmed with the weird atmosphere of the tropic jungles. The coloring was terrifying. It struck them with resistless force. They had just moved from the sterile wastes of the seacoast, a barren desert of sand, except for the verdure along the streams. And now a smothering wilderness burst in their faces. On its rich background were splashed great sheets and huge bouquets of unbelievable colors, daubs of lurid yellow, crimson, blue and dazzling white. Such colors used by an artist on canvas might drive a beholder to violence; their combined effect in the jungle was one of positive terror. It made the flesh creep. Its beauty was unearthly.

The bare stalk of a tree shot straight into the air without leaf or limb to end in a cluster of giant buttercups, each half a foot across; the _lignum vitæ_ was covered with myriads of tiny flowers the color of wisteria; the royal poinciana towered in flaming glory among a dozen others. One variety in particular seemed to break into endless billows of honey-yellow as far as the eye could penetrate.

And swinging through all and over all were the orchids. The white variety Teresa named “The Tears of the Virgin.” A startling red variety she named “The Seventh Deadly Sin.” Another “The Annunciation,” and still another, “The Bride of Christ.” And yellow varieties of daffodils waved everywhere in thousands.

The feet of the invaders sank into masses of rotting leaves that seemed but half developed before being pushed to death by the surge of endless new life. And back of it all, pervading all, hovered the soul of the jungle, a thing of terror indescribable, yet fascinating--a beauty haunted with lurking death!

To Teresa the experience was one of rich emotion and uplifting faith. Beyond the language of reason, she yet felt its kinship with the wild beat of her heart for the man she loved.

On the following day Pizarro devoutly thanked God to find his way back to the open world with the loss of so few of his men.

A half day’s march on leaving the jungle brought him in sight of orchards laden with strange Indian fruits and fields of yellow grain. The adventurer suddenly found himself among a people who had developed the arts of agriculture to a point of beauty and fruitfulness beyond anything known in Europe. They marched through a veritable paradise.

And everywhere the Peruvians received them with kindness. Their “allotment” of natives was yet too novel an event to have made any impression on the interior. In fact it had not yet fully dawned on the simple people “allotted” that they were held as slaves. Their labor in assisting the wonderful beings who had come had been freely given as a sort of welcoming hospitality. And acting under strict orders of their leader the Spaniards vied with each other in winning the good opinion of all the people along the line of march.

In every village of any size was found a royal commissary, whose wide halls and stored grain gave unusual comforts. Their every want was thus supplied by the generous government against which they were marching.

The uniform politeness of these receptions by the royal officials, however, began, at length, to excite Pizarro’s suspicion. It was too smooth to be spontaneous. He had a growing conviction that his receptions had been arranged from Caxamalca. He now moved cautiously, preceded by swift scouts.

The richer the cultivated fields became, the denser the prosperous population that watched his progress, and the more restless grew a portion of his followers. On reaching the road which turned from the main highway leading from Quito to Cuzco to cross the _cordillera_ to Caxamalca he halted his troops for a few days’ refreshment and a council of his officers.

It was now plain to all that they were penetrating the heart of a great, prosperous empire of a strong, united, happy people. The evidence of wealth and power was gradually sapping the nerve of some of his followers. Murmurs of fear and discontent had reached his ears daily. The enterprise on which he had now embarked called for a united front. His men must be of one mind. To a man they must be fired with faith in their leader and his sure triumph.

When Cortez faced such a situation on his landing in Mexico he had burned his own ships and ordered his men forward. Pizarro was now deep in the interior of a strange, powerful kingdom with but a handful of men under his command and they indifferently equipped. His little army numbered but one hundred and seventy-eight and he possessed but four muskets, the one weapon that struck terror to the natives. His swords were of the best steel, his lances strong and the riders of his sixty-seven horses wore the best mail and carried every weapon except the new firearms. His artillery under Pedro de Candia consisted of two small mountain cannon carried on the back of sure footed mules. But he must cure discontent or his daring march would end in disaster. The longer he lingered in the village at the parting of the ways, the more lowering became the glances of some of his men. Discontent, of course, was a mild word for their troubles. They were scared. The farther they got into this rich, mysterious kingdom the farther they were from home, and the longer the tramp to possible safety.

An officer suggested to Pizarro the plan of a swift march down the great highway against the rich capital of Cuzco. The story of its dazzling temples and palaces they had heard at every stop.

The grizzled commander, fifty-seven years of age, faced his comrades with a frown:

“Surely you cannot advise this madness. Declare war and march for the capture of a great city without knowledge of its defenses or the size of the army we will encounter on the way? And leave in our rear the emperor of the realm with an army to cut off our retreat? No, gentlemen, we have set out to find the Inca and present ourselves at his court. We’ll face the issue and cast our fortunes and lives on the outcome. Call the men together!”

A trumpet summoned the soldiers and Pizarro faced them calmly. His voice was smooth and genial with no hint of the gravity of the situation.

“Soldiers,” he began slowly, “we have come now to the parting of the ways in more senses than one. Before us lies the road to Caxamalca where the sovereign of the kingdom is encamped with his army. Its size we do not know.

“Let no man enter on this daring final march unless sure in his heart of success. We have left a weak garrison at San Miguel. More men are keenly needed there. If there is one among you who has a doubt of the wisdom of my order to march at once to Caxamalca, he may now volunteer to reënforce the garrison of Navarro with full honors of a soldier. Those who wish may now return to San Miguel and have the same allotment of land and natives as given to those who are there. All who wish to follow me on this dangerous and unknown road will see the matter to an end.”

But nine men faltered and chose to return, four from the infantry and five from the cavalry. The remaining one hundred and sixty-nine crowded about their leader and shouted:

“Forward!”

Pizarro had cleared his camp of discontent and advanced with closed ranks. His army was now a unit and its heart beat with a single stroke, the stroke of the heart of its commander.

At Zaran the _curaca_ received him with kindness and quartered his troops as usual in the royal commissary. The governor could give him no information as to the exact spot of the Inca’s camp but had heard that a division of the army lay at Caxas, a village among the hills at no great distance.

The leader sent a strong force of scouts forward under Hernando de Soto to reconnoiter the ground, determine the size of the army before them and their disposition towards the visitors. The commander urged Teresa to remain in camp, but as he did not forbid her joining De Soto, she was in the van of the party when they rode gayly forward towards Caxas.

The course of empire meant little to her. She was nearing, now, the man she loved--her kingdom and her conquest. And she was making good her proud boast to Pizarro. She was laughing at danger, flouting the elements, and challenging death itself.