Chapter XXIII

As the piles of gold and silver grew higher, the lust of the conquerors mounted. They complained that the Inca was not using the speed he had promised. They could make no allowance for the distance covered by many of his messengers or the difficulty with which such treasure was transported by hand in litters, or on the slender backs of llamas. The pack load for this curious little camel of the south could not contain more than seventy-five pounds and five to six miles a day was the limit to which they could be pressed.

In spite of these difficulties, articles worth as much as two hundred thousand _castellanos_ sometimes came in a day and once the total daily receipts reached three hundred and fifty thousand.

Each article, carefully weighed, was piled in the room under heavy guard. With each day’s growth of the fabulous wealth before their eyes, nerves grew more and more taut. The strain at last became terrific. They began to build all sorts of wild fancies. Atahualpa had merely devised the scheme to gain two months’ time in which to organize in secret his forces. He never intended to allow this enormous treasure to be taken from the country. When ready to strike he would take it again. They would never get it to the coast. Felipillo saw to it that rumors of uprisings continued to disturb the peace of the invaders. It was impossible to trace these rumors to their source, a fact that made them all the more sinister and alarming.

The stir reached a climax on the arrival at the court of a messenger from Andamarca reporting the death of Huascar. Atahualpa sent for Pizarro and made the announcement.

“I am sorry to have to report to you, commander, the death of my brother Huascar....”

“And how did he die?” growled the Spaniard.

“It is said that in walking along a steep cliff of the river, he fell from the heights and was drowned....”

“It can’t be true!” stormed Pizarro.

The Inca’s voice expressed the deepest sorrow.

“I have just received the full account of his unhappy end.”

“If your brother is dead I will hold you accountable for his life!” thundered the Spaniard.

“But how, Your Excellency, could I be held accountable for the acts of a jailor in a distant province, seeing that I am a prisoner? His jailor is my friend and was appointed to his office by me. If this man believed that in Huascar’s death he might advance my interests surely you cannot accuse me of his acts?”

The smooth words of the Inca did not deceive the commander. That he was justified in executing his prisoner as a traitor, Pizarro did not question for a moment; but it did not suit his purpose to allow this view and he loudly refused to accept it.

He called a conference of his officers and it was decided to demand of Atahualpa an explanation of the continued rumors of an uprising.

The Inca’s astonishment was genuine.

“The latest rumor,” Pizarro sternly announced, “names the City of Huamachuco as the rallying point of the rebels--what say you?”

“That the story is the invention of an enemy,” was the prompt reply. “If there is a native soldier at Huamachuco I have no knowledge of it.”

“The influx of your ransom has slackened,” the Spaniard continued gravely. “My officers suspect that you are delaying its payment to give time for the uprising....”

The Inca moved in a gesture of indignation.

“No one of my subjects would dare to lift his hand without my orders. I am in your power. What better security could you ask?”

His logic was sound but Pizarro pressed him.

“Then why this delay in delivering the ransom?”

“You must remember that Cuzco, my capital, is more than seven hundred miles from Caxamalca. My royal couriers running with their best speed over the mountain passes require five days to deliver a message. It will require weeks for a porter to carry his load of gold over the same road--a llama much longer.”

“Our men are growing impatient,” was the curt answer. “And their mood is ugly.”

“To prove to you my good faith,” Atahualpa urged, “I ask you to send a delegation of your own to Cuzco and every important city of the Empire. I guarantee their safety. They can aid my officers in collecting and forwarding the gold.”

Pizarro eagerly accepted the offer.

“There is no trick in this?” the Spaniard demanded.

The Inca smiled.

“How can there be? My life is in your hands.”

It was true. The risk of the venture was small. It would give him an opportunity to verify the stories of the riches of Cuzco and make a complete survey of the state of the country.

Pizarro first sent his brother Hernando to Huamachuco to find if there were any truth in the report of an uprising.

Hernando found the place quiet, and was received hospitably by the people of the city. While resting his troop he received an order from his brother to continue his march across the mountain to the famous city and temple of Pachacamac, situated a hundred leagues further, near the coast. Pizarro had discovered that pilgrimages were being made to this place from every quarter of the Empire. It was the holy city of the kingdom, as Mecca is the holy city of the Mohammedan world. He believed that vast treasures would be found in this temple.

The journey was difficult and Hernando’s progress slow. It required several weeks to cover the ground. But the journey was a new revelation of the wealth, beauty and boundless resources of the Inca’s Empire. The highways were broader and more solidly built. They found the suspension bridges so heavily constructed that the cavalry crossed them without accident.

Flocks of thousands of llamas browsed lazily on the hills and in the beautiful irrigated valleys. In every direction stretched fields of corn and grain. As the climate grew warmer the edges of the roadway were lined with gorgeous flowers, some of them bearing a rich perfume. Every mountainside was terraced with gardens and orchards of the most luscious fruits and vegetables, and every field was irrigated by aqueducts through which flowed limpid waters from the mountains.

By order of the Inca they were everywhere received with honor. In every town of size the people welcomed them with singing and dancing. Strong porters were furnished to carry their baggage.

At length Hernando stood before the temple in Pachacamac, a vast pile of buildings clustering around a cone-shaped hill. Pizarro was refused permission to enter by the priests in charge. He thrust the guardian aside and boldly entered with his men.

The door was set with crystals, turquoise and coral. But great was the Spaniard’s astonishment to find a bare, dark interior. Instead of a great room blazing with gold and precious stones the only ornament found was the simple wooden image of the God of the Universe. The worship of the Great Spirit, Creator of heaven and earth, was a religion thousands of years old when the Incas built their temple of the Sun close beside it. Religious toleration was one of the first principles of their faith.

In a rage of disappointment Pizarro tore the sacred image from its recess, hacked it to pieces and erected a large cross in its place.

The natives, terror-stricken at the sacrilege, in seeing no bolt from heaven strike the invaders, humbly submitted their lives to the Spaniards, watching them in trembling awe. Hernando preached them a sermon on the truths and beauty of Christianity and taught them the sign of the Cross as a talisman against all evil.

Although sorely disappointed in the bare walls of the temple of the Great Spirit, the Spaniards reaped a good harvest of precious metal from the adjoining temple of the Sun and the homes of the nobility in the city. When weighed it amounted to the value of eighty thousand _castellanos_.

On his journey returning to Caxamalca he made a grave discovery. He learned that the ablest general of the empire lay at Xauxa with an army of thirty-five thousand men. Could he capture this famous officer as his brother had taken the Inca, the greatest danger to their safety would be removed at a stroke.

He determined to take Challcuchima. He knew that the general’s inactivity was due to an order from the Inca. Yet a new secret order dispatched at any time, could bring this general down on them with an army twice the size of the one he now commanded.

He forced his march on Xauxa, and found the road far rougher than the one to Pachacamac. Their horses’ shoes gave out and there was no iron with which to shoe them. But they solved the difficulty by using their store of silver. The twenty horses were shod with solid silver shoes and the march resumed. The Indian smiths were experts in working silver, and no further trouble developed in the cavalry.

The Spaniards, arrived at Xauxa, found a large, prosperous city of a hundred thousand inhabitants. They were hospitably received and immediately dispatched a message to Challcuchima inviting him to a conference.

The general entered the city in state borne on a litter by his soldiers. He received the most striking tribute from the crowds which lined the way attesting his fame and popularity.

Pizarro received him with courtesy and found no difficulty in persuading him that he had come at the request of the Inca to escort him to Caxamalca to receive his master’s orders.

Challcuchima fell into the trap and accompanied the Spaniards to the prison of the Inca.

Great was Atahualpa’s surprise and dismay to see his famous general. He had counted on his army to march to his rescue when the hour struck. Challcuchima, too, was a prisoner of war.

In startling contrast to the pomp of his estate at the head of his army Challcuchima entered the presence of his royal master barefooted with a burden on his shoulder to symbolize the humble submission of a servant.

Standing before his sovereign, the grizzled warrior, victor of a hundred battlefields, raised his head and cried:

“Would I had been here--this could not have happened to you, my Lord of the Sun!” He knelt, kissed the hands and feet of the Inca and bathed them in his tears.

Atahualpa betrayed no emotion. In an even voice he bade his general welcome.

The payment of the ransom had been greatly quickened by the delegation of Spaniards sent to aid the natives. The higher piled the gold, the higher mounted the excitement in camp.

They awaited with impatience the return of the commissioners sent to Cuzco. They should have reported long before Hernando Pizarro. Their journey had been along the great State highway to Cuzco. They had been borne on swift litters in luxury by order of the Inca. They had been received with royal honors along the entire journey. Pizarro knew this from native couriers who had reported their progress and reception.

Something had happened in Cuzco to hold them. And a wave of suspicion and uneasiness again swept the Spaniards at Caxamalca. Had their commissioners met with foul play in the Temple? Had they been overwhelmed by an army marching from the South? Again the rumor mongers were busy, and nerves were on edge.

Something _had_ happened in Cuzco. The men sent on this mission had proven themselves the veriest boors in the presence of the distinguished priests and nobles who received them. The royal message to desecrate the temples had been received with surprise and grief; yet it was done with all possible speed. The priests were forced with rude threats to tear from the Temple seven hundred huge plates of gold.

The commissioners demanded more speed. With heads swollen by the tributes paid them on every hand by the nobility, they began to assume the airs of princes. They demanded a rich feast every evening. At times they drank the native liquor and wines until dawn. No woman whom they saw, however high her rank, was free from insult. Their debauchery reached a climax that threatened an armed clash when they boldly invaded the convent and forced the Virgins of the Sun to join them in their revelry. Their scandalous conduct with these girls sacred to the Inca and Temple, sent a wave of horror and indignation over the city. An ugly mob gathered before the building and the commissioners were held prisoners for days, fearing to emerge.

The High Priest, holding the message of the Inca in his hand, addressed them:

“My people, in the name of the Lord of the Sun, I command peace. These men are here sent by him. They bear his royal commission to gather the treasure for his ransom. They are under his divine protection. You will not dare to lift your hand against them without his order.”

The mob sullenly dispersed and the revelers, sobered by their danger, emerged from the convent and hurried to make good their return to Caxamalca.

They took with them two hundred loads of gold, the limit in weight that could be carried by four stalwart men at the handles of a baggage litter. They were relieved by fresh porters at each royal storehouse, never more than five miles apart.

The storage of this immense treasure was made at Caxamalca with shouts and songs. The stories of drink and the revelry in the convent at Cuzco stirred the camp to new dreams of splendor and license. Pizarro found the maintenance of discipline a problem of increasing gravity.

In the midst of the turmoil caused by the return of the commissioners from Cuzco, Pizarro received a startling message from San Miguel. Almagro had just landed from three vessels, a hundred and fifty foot-soldiers, and fifty cavalry. This force was sufficient, if the fiery little partner was so inclined, to dispute his supremacy in Peru. And if Almagro still cherished a grudge--and there were many reasons for fearing that he did--Pizarro might have to fight his own countryman for the huge store of yellow metal piling higher each day in his treasure house. Almagro should have reported long before with the first recruits. That he had waited to equip three ships and organize an expedition as formidable as his own was significant.

There were men in the garrison at San Miguel who had deserted Pizarro at the crucial moment. The stories of his great fortune had driven these weak ones to desperation. That they would whisper ugly things in Almagro’s ears he could not doubt. They had hastened to do precisely this.

The leader of these deserters did not hesitate to warn Almagro and his secretary Perez in no uncertain terms:

“Pizarro speaks smooth words, but he hates you with a deadly enmity. 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?