Читать книгу The Crimson Conquest - Charles B. Hudson - Страница 25

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Cristoval's suggestion let a ray of hope into the Inca's heart. To make it effectual without delay, and to bring the Spanish officers together, he decided upon a banquet. He mentioned his purpose to Cristoval.

"Good!" said the cavalier, emphatically. "Nothing could be better, my Lord Inca. 'T is an expedient in favor among Christian statesmen, and much history hath grown out of roast meats and wine—articles uncommonly fertile in liberal views of human affairs, and productive of flow of words in expressing them. Feed Pizarro well, and your proposal will follow most judiciously upon your cheer."

The Spaniards were unprepared for the splendor of their entertainment. Banqueting was a function which the Peruvians had developed to a degree of elegance hardly equalled in Christendom. The table was laden not only with the choicest viands of the region, but with a lavish display of plate that dazzled the eyes of the guests and rendered the veedor suddenly speechless.

The Inca watched closely to observe the effect of the gold, and a moment convinced him that Cristoval was right. He noted the quick lighting of Pizarro's saturnine countenance and the significant glance at his companions, though the leader gave no other sign. Some of his officers retained less of their equipoise, and there were ejaculations of the names of saints, the Faith, the Cross, the Sacrament, and the like, invoked to witness their astonishment. Mendoza broke into a coarse guffaw and slapped his neighbor on the back. De Soto, Hernando Pizarro, Cristoval, and two or three others of the cavaliers of gentle breeding, stood with faces reddened or pale with humiliation, until Pizarro put an end to the exhibition with a stern "Attention, Señores! For the sake of Heaven, be silent! Ye are at the table of a gentleman."

An uncomfortable constraint of some minutes' duration followed the seating of the company. The Inca meditated upon the manifest craving of his guests for the tableware, a greediness to him preposterous. The Peruvians were diligent miners of the two precious metals, not because they assigned to them any especial value, but for the reason that they were beautiful and adaptable to purposes of decoration. The idea of their use as a medium of exchange, that they could be representative of the value of other things, of the luxuries, comforts, and even necessities of life, was beyond the Inca's conception. Money was a thing unknown in Tavantinsuyu, and Cristoval had not yet explained to him its use in Christendom. But Atahualpa saw the Spaniards display an interest in his plate which seemed emotional, even passionate, and which made them oblivious, not only of the common courtesy due to him as their host, but of their own dignity. The unaccountable appetite excited at once his wonder and scorn.

After a moment, however, he recalled the obligations of hostship, and with Felipillo's help engaged different ones in conversation. Pizarro swallowed his irritation and took part with more graciousness than Atahualpa had suspected him capable of showing, and the chill which had threatened to mar the evening gradually wore away. There were several of his nobles present, and they joined as freely in the sociability as circumstances permitted; for at the royal table the extreme formality of the court was for the time suspended, and the rigid distinction of prince and subject laid aside.

At last the table was cleared, cups were served and filled with chicha, and the Inca, dipping his finger-tip into the liquor, filliped a few drops into the air as a libation to Inti, the Sun. He raised his cup and bowed to Pizarro. The latter responded, and in accordance with an ancient custom of the Peruvians remarkably like our own, the Inca touched his cup to that of his guest, and they drank together. Thus, with each of the company in turn Atahualpa took a sip of chicha. This ceremony completed, he turned again to the Spanish commander and said with nonchalance:—

"I perceive, Viracocha Pizarro, that your people are attracted by some of our metals—especially so by gold. It is something you have in your own country?"

"It is something which some of us have in our own country, my Lord Inca," replied Pizarro; "and of which more of us have little; but something, by the Faith, which all of us are pushing hardily to get!"

"Ah!" said the Inca. "But you possess a metal of far greater value in your iron, Viracocha. It hath surprised me that you can set so much importance upon one of comparatively little worth. But,—I would ask a question,—can freedom be purchased with gold?"

Surprised by its suddenness, Pizarro seemed to fail for a moment to find a reply.

"Can freedom be purchased with gold, Viracocha Pizarro?" repeated Atahualpa.

Pizarro recovered himself, and replied with emphasis: "By the Crucifix, that it can!—provided gold enough be offered."

"Provided gold enough be offered!" repeated the Inca, unable to conceal his eagerness. "Then hear me, General Pizarro: Promise me liberty, and I will cover the floor of this room with gold!"

The company ceased talking. Pizarro looked at him in astonishment, while a smile of incredulity went round the table. Atahualpa misinterpreted the silence and the expression, taking them to mean that his offer was too meagre. He looked from one to another for a moment, then sprang to his feet, and striding to the wall, stretched his hand above his head as far as he could reach.

"I will fill the room to this height with gold, Viracochas!—Is it enough?" he demanded, his eyes blazing with hardly suppressed excitement. "Is it enough?"

Still the Spaniards were silent—dumb with amazement. Several had arisen. "Mad!" whispered one. The Inca stood waiting for their reply, his arm upraised, his commanding figure drawn to its full height, glittering in the lamplight with gems and golden decorations, while his dark eyes gleamed from beneath the fringe of the llautu as he surveyed the astonished Viracochas.

"Is it not enough?" he demanded again. "Then a like amount of silver!"

"Hold, in the name of Heaven!" exclaimed Cristoval warningly in Quichua.

Pizarro regained his voice: "What sayest thou, Peralta?—Can he do it? Ask the noble beside thee!"

The noble answered with emphasis in the affirmative.

"Then 't is done!" shouted Pizarro, unable to restrain his excitement. "Done! Agreed, my Lord Inca! We accept your offer. Make good your terms, and you are a free man—at liberty to go and come without let or hindrance. Here is my hand upon it. Wait!—We'll give you an instrument in writing. Zapato, step out and send an orderly for my secretary. Hernando, mount a chair and scratch a mark with thy dagger where the Inca put his hand. My lord, deign to raise your hand again. By the gods, Señores! What say you to 't? A hundred thousand demons! D'ye believe your ears? We are all rich men! Ask the noble again, Peralta, whether he can do it!—Ask another of them! Saith he yes? Art sure? Blood and wounds and gods of war! Ha, ha! What say ye to't, Señores?"

Pizarro's cold reserve had gone. Cristoval had rarely seen him smile before: now he laughed, even roared, not pleasantly; and his pale countenance showed unaccustomed color. The veedor had pulled several times at his sleeve, unheeded.

"Pizarro!" he whispered. "Pizarro! Hold off a bit! He would have offered more, I am sure of it!"

Pizarro turned upon him with impatience: "Oh, a curse upon thy money-gluttony, Rogelio! Hath it no bounds? Art insatiable? Be silent!"

"He had opened his mouth to offer more, I'll swear it! Oh, misery!" snuffled the veedor, as he turned away.

The room was in a hubbub. Every man was on his feet, talking at the top of his voice and gesticulating. Now the chicha flowed without stint. When the secretary entered and set about the work of drawing up the agreement they crowded upon him, explaining, suggesting, and advising, until in despair he appealed to the commander, and they were ordered back while Pizarro dictated the document. Rogelio was a notary, and the paper was duly attested and sworn to, the Inca looking on with interest, and making his mark at last in accordance with a confusion of instructions from the wrought-up Spaniards. The business finished, he retired with a faint significant smile to Cristoval; but his going was almost unnoted by the others, and they lingered over their chicha and their jubilation until the small hours, when the guard was summoned to carry certain ones to their quarters. Rogelio was hauled from a corner, and awoke to bitter tears and incoherent reproaches hurled against Pizarro's want of commercial sense. Pedro had appeared upon the scene at its close, and directed the veedor's removal.

"What, my fat pet!" exclaimed the cook in commiseration. "What, Rogelio, my barrel of grease! Melting thus in tears? Wasting thy blubber in futile drippings? Prithee, now, check thy thaw! A most melancholy deliquation, my friend! A sad prodigality of tallow! Come, stay thy liquefaction! Swab, wipe, stop thy leaks, desiccate, run dry, my civil officer of the Crown; thou'rt growing soggy!—What! Damn Pizarro? Agreed!—Damn the Inca? Fie, my cherub!—Damn everybody? Ah! But with one exception, and that's Pedro, the cook. Now thou 'rt hiccoughing, and I'm done with thee. Adiós, Rogelio, my lard-firkin! Good-night, my Cupid!" and Pedro stumped away.

Without loss of time Atahualpa despatched his chasquis to Cuzco and other important towns, bearing orders that temples be dismantled of their gold and silver decorations, that palaces be stripped of their utensils; that, in short, the precious metals be drawn from every possible source and forwarded with all speed to Caxamalca. The report of the fabulous offer of ransom went abroad among the Spanish soldiers, received by most of them with incredulity and jeers; by a few, with riotous demonstrations of joy. The room was promptly measured. It was found to be about seventeen feet broad, by twenty-two feet long, and the height indicated by the Inca in the neighborhood of nine feet from the floor. This space was to be filled with gold in two months, and a smaller room adjoining to be twice filled with silver.

It was days before there were returns from the Inca's orders;—days of restlessness for him, for he was desperate to see the fulfilment of his terms begun. Pizarro's eagerness was hardly less, but it was tempered with much doubt of Atahualpa's ability to produce so vast a treasure.

At length, however, the first consignment arrived, borne on the backs of porters. The news spread rapidly. The Indios were halted in the square by an importunate rabble of soldiers, clamorous for a sight of their burden, and made to open their packages. As the rich booty was disclosed the soldiers stared a moment in stupefied silence, then raised a shout. Others came running, gazed for a second, and added their whoops. They went mad. They embraced one another, joined hands and danced around the glowing yellow heap, bellowing their glee. They mauled each other in heavy horse-play, roaring in uncouth laughter, without words to fit their raptures. The Indian porters looked on, wondering, as had the Inca, whether gold had not some hidden power to give madness. The soldiers seized them, whirled them into their clumsy fandango, clapped their backs and called them "amigos," "hermanos,"—friends and brothers,—and made them dizzy. Presently the treasure was gathered up and borne by the singing, yelling mob in triumph to Pizarro's headquarters in tumultuous invasion. That night no man slept.

Thereafter, the stream of gold flowed steadily into Caxamalca for weeks, fortunes in a day. But soon came the inevitable reaction. Exultancy gave place to uneasiness and discontent. The treasure did not come in fast enough! The Inca was delaying for the purpose of gaining time to prepare for hostilities! Even Pizarro became suspicious, and went to Atahualpa with the charge. The Inca met him with a dignified reminder of the distance to be traversed by the gold, and the difficulties of the road. Pizarro was half satisfied; his soldiers less. Rumors persistently arose of native uprisings to rescue the monarch and regain the treasure, which the Spaniards could not conceive to be less an object of greed to the Indios than to themselves. Pizarro bluntly accused the Inca of conspiring against him, but Atahualpa disdained the imputation. The event proved his innocence, for a reconnaissance by Hernando Pizarro to the south not only failed to find disquiet, but was received everywhere with good-will. For a time the suspicions were allayed, only to rise again later in greater strength.

About this time an event occurred which still further strained the relations between Pizarro and his captive. Huascar, Atahualpa's half-brother, then a prisoner at Xauxa, learned of the ransom being paid the Spaniards, and sent secret emissaries offering an even greater price for his own liberty. The negotiation was terminated suddenly by Huascar's death. Whether the unfortunate prince was executed by the Inca's order is a matter of doubt, but the fact that he was drowned in the river Andamarca gives credit to the belief that he perished in an attempt to escape.

As soon as the tragedy was reported to him the Inca sent for Pizarro and informed him of Huascar's death with every expression of regret, apparently sincere.

"What!" shouted Pizarro, his face livid. "Huascar dead! What tale is this? Beware trifling with me, my Lord Inca! You will produce your brother in Caxamalca, alive and unharmed. This controversy between you shall be tried in a Christian court, as I have said to you before. Seek not to avoid it by subterfuge, my lord!"

"General Pizarro," replied the Inca, with dignity, "I have said that Huascar is dead."

"Then, by the Eternal!" flamed Pizarro, "you shall pay for it with your life!" and turning on his heel, he left the room.