Adventures and Conquests of Pizarro - George Towle |
On crossing the Cordilleras, Pizarro had the choice of two roads. One led directly to Caxamalca, where the Inca and his army were encamped. The other took a more roundabout course, having the Inca's camp on the left, and passing by Chincha to Cuzco, the Peruvian capital. The first road passed over the most difficult and dangerous mountain heights: by the other, the way into the center of Peru was comparatively easy. If Pizarro went by the first, he would meet the Inca and his hosts face to face; if by the other, he would avoid this encounter, and might, perhaps, march without serious obstacles into the midst of the land of gold.
Which should he choose?
Some of his officers urged him to take the easier route. They pointed out the difficulties of the mountain ascent, the danger of ambuscades, the certainty of being confronted by Atahualpa, if he chose the road to Caxamalca. He would avoid all these by marching by the road on the right.
"No!" cried Pizarro. "We will not flinch, having come thus far, before the might of the Inca. Sooner or later, we shall have to meet him. I have told him I would visit him; and, if I turn aside now, he would say that I feared him, and would exult over the terror he had caused me. I go by the road to Caxamalca!"
At daylight the next day, the little army, with their captain at their head, began to climb the steep crags and cliffs of the Cordilleras. It proved a most difficult and dangerous journey. At a certain height the road dwindled to a mere path; and in some places the soldiers scarcely had room to walk, and lead their horses upon it; while the cliffs rose perpendicularly hundreds of feet above them, and descended in precipices hundreds of feet below them. Deep chasms had to be crossed, and steep crags to be clambered up; and this was no easy task for men who wore the burdensome armor of that period: while, from the heat of the valley, they gradually reached heights where they were almost frozen by the cold. Several times, as they mounted slowly towards the summit, they came upon strong fortresses built upon hanging cliffs; but they happily found no hostile array of Peruvians to oppose their progress; and Pizarro began to think that the Inca, in neglecting to defend these formidable passes, had made up his mind to welcome the Spaniards as friends.
After several days of the roughest climbing, Pizarro found himself at the summit of the pass. It was towards evening, and the air was biting cold. The soldiers hastened to gather some of the stunted trees that grew sparsely on the almost bald eminence; and presently the entire crest of the mountain was lit up by great blazing fires, about which the men eagerly crowded to warm themselves.
Pizarro halted at the summit long enough to rest his weary company, and to reconnoiter the path at some distance ahead; and, while he was there, he received another envoy from the Inca, who brought a present of some sheep, and repeated the message of welcome and invitation Pizarro had before received. It was from this envoy that Pizarro heard for the first time of the war that had been going on between Atahualpa and his brother Huascar, and of Atahualpa's triumph and usurpation; and, like the shrewd adventurer that he was, the idea at once struck him to turn these events to his own advantage.
The march was soon resumed through many narrow passes and defiles among the mountains, and then upon a road, which, descending on the other side, wound in zigzag turnings over the mountain spurs, and across many a deep and jagged chasm. Sometimes the Spaniards came upon villages, which they did not hesitate to occupy, though they refrained from plundering or otherwise ill-treating the inhabitants. At last they came in sight of the beautiful and wide-spreading valley where lay Caxamalca, and, beyond the town, Atahualpa's camp.
Pizarro stood upon a jutting crag, and gazed long and earnestly upon the fair and fruitful land that lay stretched out before him far as eye could reach. There, indeed, was the land which he had for so many years yearned to see, and longed to conquer, and which now seemed almost within his grasp. The supreme attempt was now near. Behind him lay ruin and death. To retreat now was not only to miserably fail, but to invite certain destruction. There was but one course to pursue,—to press vigorously and bravely forward, and to strain every nerve to possess the empire which had so long glittered, a glorious but almost unattainable prize, in his dreams by day and night.
There was still no sign that his approach to Caxamalca would be resisted. The villages he passed seemed friendly, and more than one hospitable message was brought to him from the Inca as he advanced.
Descending over the green and gentle slopes into the valley, Pizarro and his comrades pitched their camp on a broad plateau. No sooner had they done so than a large party of Peruvians came up the road, bearing a choice and plenteous supply of provisions which the Inca had sent. Upon these they feasted merrily till late in the night. The atmosphere was once more mild, and it seemed to them delicious to sleep again on the green turf and in a balmy air.
The next morning Pizarro led his little army to within three miles of Caxamalca. There he halted until the rear, led by his brother Hernando, who had come over the mountains at some distance behind him, came up. From the spot where he now found himself the Spanish adventurer could plainly discern the glistening white houses, the two fortresses perched upon their rocks, and the square temples of the town; and, extending his glance beyond, he could just see the white tents of the Inca's camp, dotting the plain and hillsides in the hazy distance.
It may be that at this moment the proud and brave heart of the cavalier sank for an instant within him as he gazed upon the vast encampment, and realized what a mighty force he was about to brave. If so, he soon recovered himself; and his face assumed an expression of grim determination, which betrayed his resolve to stake all in the attempt to conquer.
From his distant camp, too, the Inca Atahualpa gazed long and wonderingly at the procession of Spanish horsemen and soldiers, with their flying banners and their glittering mail, as they streamed along the high-road, and approached, unresisted, nearer and nearer to the famous town. For Pizarro had once more given the order to "Forward march!" and, as the Inca looked, he could just see the van of the Spanish column, marching three deep, and entering the gates of Caxamalca.
Pizarro advanced at the head of his troops. As he entered the streets, he was surprised to find them quite deserted. The houses were all closed, as if the inhabitants feared that the strangers would assail them; and only here and there did he see a stray Peruvian hastening around a corner to avoid being observed.
The procession moved in military order directly to the public square. Here their tents were pitched in a hurry; for at this moment a violent hail-storm burst over the town. It was just at dusk, on the 15th of November, 1532, that Pizarro thus established himself at Caxamalca.
Every precaution was necessary to prevent a surprise. Pizarro could not be sure of the Inca's real purpose. It might well be that he only waited to decoy the Spaniards into the town, in order to surround them with his infinitely more numerous force, and annihilate them then and there. Pizarro, therefore, posted his cavalry at convenient points, and sent out squads to reconnoiter the vicinity. No signs of hostility, however, betrayed themselves; and the Spaniards slept peacefully through the night in some low huts that surrounded the square.
No time was to be lost in finding out the Inca's real intentions. So the next morning Pizarro called De Soto to him, and told him to take fifteen horsemen, proceed to the Inca's camp, seek an audience of the monarch, and see if the Spaniards would be welcomed in Peru.
When the commander had given these orders, his brother Hernando, who was standing by, said,—
"I fear, sir, that fifteen horsemen will not be enough to send to the Inca's camp. If he should choose to attack them, they would soon be destroyed. We have in all sixty cavalry, and can spare twenty more, and still leave enough behind to act as sentries on the outskirts of the town."
"Very well," replied Pizarro: "do you take twenty more good horsemen, and yourself follow De Soto to the Inca."
The cavalcade set out, and was soon upon the highway leading to the Peruvian camp. At its head rode a trumpeter, who awoke the echoes of the lovely valley with loud blasts, and thus announced to the Inca the approach of the envoys. Rapidly they galloped over the well-built road; and when they came to the bridge, instead of crossing it (for they feared, lest, by accident or design, it might not hold them), they plunged their horses into the stream, and ascended the bank in safety on the other side.
Here they found a large force of Peruvian warriors drawn up in line, with their lances in rest, and their bows in their hands. For a moment De Soto suspected that he was about to be attacked, and ordered his cavalrymen to keep close together; but one of the Peruvian officers advanced, made friendly signs, and offered to conduct the party into the presence of the Inca. Hernando Pizarro now came up with his twenty horsemen, and accompanied De Soto to the imperial camp.
Atahualpa had been apprised of their approach, and was once more seated, surrounded by his brilliantly-attired court and beautiful women, on the lawn in front of his pavilion. De Soto advanced on horseback in the midst of the throng, followed by Hernando and several other cavaliers, and stopped just in front of the Inca. All preserved complete silence. The Peruvians gazed in wonder and some fear at the richly-caparisoned horses, and their riders in shining armor: the Spaniards stared curiously back, but kept a bold and proud front.
Then Hernando Pizarro, through an interpreter, addressed the Peruvian monarch.
"Our commander," he said, has sent us hither to assure you of his friendship and goodwill. We are the subjects of a great and mighty prince across the ocean, who has vast and unconquerable dominions, and who seeks allies the world over. We have come to render homage to your power, and to offer you the aid of our arms in your battles."
The Inca had sat perfectly motionless, with his eyes bent on the ground, ever since the Spaniards had made their appearance. While Hernando was speaking he did not move a muscle, or seem to hear a word that was said. There was a moment of silence after Hernando had ceased: then a tall and dark-featured noble, more gorgeously dressed than the others, advanced a step, and said,—
"It is well."
Another interval of silence followed; but Hernando, who shared his brother's bold spirit, would not give up thus. He again addressed the Inca, and asked what reception it was intended to give the Spaniards in Peru. At this Atahualpa slightly raised his head, and replied, in a low, measured tone,—
DE SOTO IN THE INCA'S CAMP. |
"This is a feast-day with us. To-morrow I will go and visit your commander, attended by my chiefs. Let him remain in peace at Caxamalca. When I see him, we will talk of what is to be done."
The Inca then bowed, as if to end the interview; and, raising his eyes as he did so, they rested with an expression of curiosity upon the noble white war-horse upon which De Soto was mounted. Perceiving that the Inca's attention was fixed upon his steed, De Soto thought that he would exhibit his good qualities. He put spurs to the horse, which bounded, reared, and plunged about the field; then wheeled around and around, and reared high upon his hind legs. De Soto then suddenly tightened the rein and brought the horse up short, so near the Inca, that the foam from the animal's mouth sprinkled the Inca's robe. But Atahualpa did not shrink a hair's breadth, and his countenance remained stolidly immovable.
De Soto and his party were then invited in one of the larger tents to such good cheer as Peru afforded; and they gazed with covetous eyes upon the heavy golden goblets, studded with emeralds, which the women brought to them foaming with "chicha," a favorite Peruvian beverage made of maize.
They now returned to Caxamalca to tell of the things that they had seen. Their story of the mighty armament of the Inca, the sturdy frames and good discipline of his soldiers, and the suspicious reception they had met with, caused many a stalwart heart in the Spanish camp to sink with dismay.
How could a mere handful of men, however brave, and however well-armed, cope with a host numbering thousands and tens of thousands? How could they defy such an army, arrayed on its own ground, at its base of supplies, and with which the entire surrounding population claimed kindred and brotherhood?
That night there were somber murmurs in the squares of Caxamalca, and the mutterings of discontent could not long be kept from Pizarro's ears. For his part, he, too, had thought of the tremendous odds against him, of the folly of braving the Peruvians with his own little force, of the dangers that frowned grimly upon him from every side.
But Pizarro knew that the art of war did not consist wholly of struggles in the open battlefield. He reflected that he had other resources in his fertile brain than a desperate trial of arms with arms. The history of his own great kinsman Cortez had not been perused and studied over and over in vain. Cortez had conquered the haughty Montezuma by a bold stratagem which only a man of genius could have conceived, and only a man of unflinching courage could have put in execution.
Pizarro knew well he could not retreat. The avenging onset of the Peruvians would overtake and destroy him before he could reach the spurs of the Cordilleras; or, if he escaped into the bleak mountain defiles, it would be to die a miserable death of exposure and starvation.
Quickly, therefore, he made up his mind what to do; but the plan he formed was so strange and daring, that he dared not at first confide it even to his officers. He went with a cheerful and confident countenance among his men. He roused their spirits by his reassuring voice and his defiant words. He told them that they were on the eve of an unlooked-for triumph, and he awoke all their pride and courage by ridiculing their fears. He reminded them that the Peruvians were heathen, while they were Christians; and persuaded them, that, in conquering Peru, they would merit the approval of God, and receive the choicest blessings of the Church.
Having thus suppressed the discontent which had begun to spread in his camp, he called De Soto, his brother Hernando, and several others, into his tent.
A light flickered feebly on a rude table in the center of the tent. Seating himself on a stool, and motioning the others to sit down also, the intrepid chief leaned his arms upon the table, and his face assumed a serious and resolute expression.
"My comrades," said he, "we are, as you know, in a desperate situation. To openly defy the Inca would be the greatest folly. His army outnumbers us, it may be, a thousand to one. It is fully equipped, composed of strong and brave men, who would fight desperately for their country. We cannot throw down the gage of battle. Nor can we retreat. To do so, would be, at best, to have failed in the great undertaking of our lives. Even if we got safely back to Panama, we should be despised and hooted at, and find ourselves impoverished, and perhaps outcasts. But we should not get back. We cannot leave this country safely, except as conquerors. To turn and fly would be as certain destruction as to march to-morrow, with two hundred men, against a camp containing two hundred thousand."
"What then, commander, do you propose?" eagerly asked the fiery-hearted De Soto. "Shall we remain here at Caxamalca, and defend ourselves to the last?"
"We shall remain here, but not to enter upon a desperate defense. I have thought of a plan, by the execution of which alone success is possible. To-morrow the Inca comes to visit us in our camp. He will come with some force, to be sure, but not a large one. He will not dream of any harm, with his great army lying but a league distant. When he comes, I shall take him prisoner."
"Take the Inca prisoner!" exclaimed the others.
"Why not?" retorted Pizarro, looking sternly around. Have you forgotten Hernando Cortez? He went to Mexico, as we have come to Peru, with a paltry force. He found there, as we do here, a mighty prince, surrounded by a brilliant court and a vast army. He entered a city of that prince, as we have of the Inca; he decoyed Montezuma to his quarters; he made him a prisoner; and, spite of Montezuma's court and army and riches, Cortez became the conqueror of Mexico."
"It is a perilous plan!" cried De Soto.
"But is not our situation perilous?" returned Pizarro. "If Cortez succeeded, so may we. Had Cortez failed, his fate would have been what ours will be if we, too, fail. The most resolute daring alone will save us, and we might as well risk our lives in strategy as in conflict or retreat. At the least, once in possession of the Inca, we shall have the strongest pledge of our safety. The Peruvians will not dare to lay hands on us when by a single blow we can take the Inca's life."
His comrades saw and felt the force of his words, and offered no further objection. They declared themselves ready and eager to take their share in the desperate plot, and left the commander's tent to prepare for the morrow. Sentries were mounted at every point which it was necessary to guard, and lookouts were posted on the fortress towers. The fires of Atahualpa's camp could be distinctly seen on the hill and plain three miles away. The broad high-road between the town and the camp was perfectly visible as far as the river; and, had a Peruvian force ventured to approach by it, the alarm could have been given in an instant, and the Spaniards called to arms.
But, as on the night before, nothing occurred to disturb the rest of the adventurers. The faithful sentinels, as they paced up and down, looked in vain for any signs of a hostile attack; and the soldiers, lying with their arquebuses loaded at their side, forgot the terrible dangers of their situation in profound slumber.
Pizarro alone did not close his eyes on the eve of his rash attempt. He walked to and fro in his tent, his brow knit in deep cogitation of the means by which he should put it in execution. By morning he had thought it all out; and, when the trumpets called officers and men to their breakfast, he met them with a cheerful and confident mien.