The Crimson Conquest 1

The Crimson Conquest 1

The Crimson Conquest

A Romance of Pizarro and Peru

Author: Charles Bradford Hudson

 

Chapter

 

I Booty from Peru

II The Señora Declares a Purpose

III Nipping a Conspiracy

IV The Inca’s Encampment

V The Monarch and the Princess Rava

VI The Massacre

VII Cavalier and Cantinero

VIII An Arm of the Inquisition

IX Cristoval Meets the Princess

X A Royal Ransom

XI The Inca’s Last Prayer

XII Vengeance Foiled

XIII Cristoval a Prisoner

XIV Pedro to the Rescue

XV The Flight

XVI Pedro in the Thumbscrews

XVII The Fugitives in the Wilderness

XVIII The Vale of Xilcala

XIX Hearts Perplexed

XX Hearts Revealed and Sundered

XXI The Señora Descends upon Pedro

XXII Rava in the Toils

XXIII Rogelio Finds Gall and Wormwood

XXIV Pedro Seeks Tidings of Cristoval

XXV A Glimpse of Cuzco

XXVI The Inca Manco

XXVII The Incarial Diadem on a Spanish Saddle-Bow

XXVIII Two Comrades Reunited

XXIX A March and Another Reunion

XXX An Encounter on the Plain of Chita

XXXI Inca and Conquistador

XXXII The Storm Breaks

XXXIII The Doomed City

XXXIV In the Burning Palace

XXXV The Lurking Morisco

XXXVI The Barricades

XXXVII A Night Attack and a Deliverance

XXXVIII A Tie of Mingled Blood

XXXIX Again the Señora Descends

XL Glory and Peace

 

 

 

 

*FOREWORD*

 

 

This tale is to be of days when the green forest-aisles and mountain

trails of America saw the glint of the steel of men in armor. It will

have to do with times when the aborigine looked upon the sparkle of

lance, the flutter of pennon, the gleam of corselet, helm, and morion,

and felt his primeval turf tremble beneath the hoofs of steeds in full

panoply. It will tell of plumed and plated cavaliers, "In brave pursuit

of chivalrous emprise," who found in the wilderness of the New World

adventures no less hardy, and near as strange, as any fabled one

encountered by knight of old.

 

It is easily half forgotten that our continent has its chronicles which

link us with the age of chivalry; that its soil once sustained the march

of men armed cap-a-pie, as bold of heart, greedy for renown, and thirsty

for blood, as ever a crusader. They came, proof-valiant against all

peril; of a fire-eating, eager courage surpassed alone by their

truculence and cruelty; of a courage to meet not only dangers real, but

a myriad direful ones born of fancy. For they were, withal, men of

imagination and fine, wide credulity. They peopled the West with

Amazons, giants, dragons, and legions of beings of varied and curious

monstrosity. They were prepared in mind not only to fight battles, but

to encounter sorcerers, witches, and the Fiend himself; to undergo all

manner of spells, charms, enchantments, and kindred grisly experiences

and phenomena. They sought earnestly, conscientiously, and with

diligence, for golden Manoa and its emperor, El Dorado, and for the

Fountain of Perpetual Youth. If they failed to come upon these, and did

no preternatural deeds, they were none the less heroes, animated by the

spirit of knight-errantry, which with them took its final leave of

earth.

 

 

 

 

*THE CRIMSON CONQUEST*

 

 

 

*CHAPTER I*

 

_*Booty from Peru*_

 

 

Toward the end of a day in the year Fifteen Hundred and Thirty-one, as

the air cooled slightly with the sun’s decline, the plaza of the little

Spanish city of Panama grew languidly animate. The square had blazed,

shimmered, and baked all day, shunned in its fervor except by those

compelled to cross it in order to avoid the exertion of going round, or

by the few straggling natives whose half-naked bodies and sun-tanned

hides were proof; but this was the hour of listless awakening, and

groups formed at the corners, exchanging gossip—if by a blessing there

was gossip to exchange—and awaiting the sole break in the sultry

monotony of the day, the evening parade of the garrison with its

stimulating bang of the culverin at sunset.

 

The dominant type in these groups was that of the fighting man. Some

were sailors, a few were planters; but most of the swarthy faces wore

the unmistakable marks of the soldier. The dress and bearing of a small

number indicated rank; but all, save a sprinkling of ecclesiastics and

civil officers of the Crown, were adventurers, and bore evidence, in

their worn apparel, in their scars, and in their bronzed and

weatherbeaten features, of severe campaigns and hardship.

 

This particular evening the ceremony of the parade received less than

usual attention. Two ships had entered the harbor the day before,

bearing news and plunder from Francisco Pizarro’s expedition to the

coast of South America. The inn at the side of the plaza was full of

men. Its wineshop was overflowing, but the rattle of dice, the oaths,

and controversy were wanting. In front lounged a crowd, thickening at

the door, where swayed lazily a banner displaying a device new to

heraldry,—the arms of Pizarro. At the portal stood a halberdier in

corselet and morion fresh-burnished, recounting with vaunt and gasconade

an alluring tale of rapine, which was heard with varying degrees of

interest, credulity, or scepticism. There was no enthusiasm. Some

sauntered doubtfully away. A few heeded, and finally entered the door.

Within, there was more animation.

 

Behind a table near the rear, leaning comfortably against the wall, his

legs sprawled under the board and his hands thrust into his belt, sat a

sturdy cavalier. He was listening with some amusement to the excited

comments of the men about him as they passed a golden bracelet of

barbaric design which he had tendered for their inspection. He was

between thirty-five and forty years old—perhaps nearer the latter. His

sunbrowned countenance gave the impression of being stern, almost

fierce. A close-shorn beard, nearly black, covered a firm, well-formed

jaw, and with the trim cut of his hair, suggested a care of person

conspicuous among the rough-looking campaigners in the room. The upward

twist of his mustachios and strongly aquiline nose gave his face a

pronounced military character, borne out presently, when he straightened

up from his lounging attitude, by the erect bearing and squareness of

shoulder that belong to the soldierly calling. A closer view dispelled

the first notion of fierceness, for from the ruggedly marked brows

looked a pair of dark eyes, clear, frank, well lined about with

crow’s-feet, and enlivened by good humor.

 

While he conversed with those nearest, the bracelet circulated from hand

to hand, was scrutinized, bitten, rung upon the tables to test its

metal, and was finally handed back by a seedy-looking soldier, who

observed: "By my faith, Señor Cristoval, that bauble hath the proper

color. There is more of yellow in its complexion than I’ve seen for

many a day. Thou mayst set me down. I go to Peru. _Hola! camaradas_,

d’ye hear? I go to Peru. Who will follow?"

 

His example and the lure of the gold had their sure effect. In a moment

the officer was busy with his pen, while an eager group leaned over the

table to watch as he wrote their names and answers to his brisk

questions. Their enthusiasm spread among the loungers outside, and

before it subsided a dozen or more enlisted for the expedition. Most of

the recruits were half-starved fellows who had idled about the colony

for months, unable to secure employment for their swords since the

rebellion in Nicaragua had been suppressed, and disdainful of work less

honorable. A few were fully equipped, but many had sold, pawned, or

gambled away their arms and armor, and had only their rapiers, which

they retained as a necessity. During this first day of recruiting, a

score had been sent to the temporary quarters, with instructions first

to gather up or locate whatever of equipment they could find.

 

Candles had been brought, the room had nearly emptied, and the officer

was arranging his papers, when he heard the sound of hoofs and the voice

of the halberdier, evidently addressing a rider.

 

"_Hola_, Pedro! Blessed Faith! Is it thou?"

 

The response was not immediate, and the creaking of the saddle, with

sundry grunts and adjurations to the animal, indicated that the newcomer

was dismounting. The operation was made difficult by the fact that he

had a wooden leg, the left having been taken off at the knee. He puffed

as he finally stood, but presently answered the soldier in a voice of

much volume and with uncommon blandness and fluency.

 

"It is I,—that is, my solid parts. Of the rest, those volatile are

volatilized; those meltable, melted and bedewing the grass along my

trail. Thou seest but a parboiled residuum. Wilt hold my mule?"

 

"Hold thy mule!" replied the halberdier, with proper soldierly scorn.

"Not I, by the fiend!"

 

"Nay! Keep thy temper, my lusty buck soldier," said the other, with suavity. "I meant no flattery."