The Crimson Conquest 15
Atahualpa gazed at him for a moment in silence, the look of astonishment
in his eyes rapidly yielding to one of anger. "Dost mean to say," he
demanded, in a voice grown suddenly harsh, "that this measureless
calamity hath been brought upon me and mine by the childish desire of
thy people for these trumperies? Great God! Are you madmen, that you
count human lives paltry beside this dross which we dig from the earth?
Are the murder of my people and the base treachery to me but trifles?"
"My lord, even greater wrongs have been committed for the love of gold.
Few crimes in the fiend’s category but have sprung from it. It hath
reddened the earth with blood, and made hell populous."
Cristoval encountered a look of mingled wonder and abhorrence. It was
some seconds before Atahualpa spoke. Then he said slowly: "Strange
beings! Do you consider that it hath some magic virtue, this gold, or
doth it not possess some hidden power to give madness?"
"Both, my Lord Inca! It hath a magic that can bring all things to its
possessor—save only happiness, love, and salvation; and it can cause
madness."
"It is a riddle!" exclaimed the Inca, with impatience. "But enough!
Thou tellest me you have come for gold. Dost thou want gold, Viracocha
Cristoval? Hear me!" He drew near and lowered his voice, speaking
rapidly and with intensity: "I would be free! I want thine aid and
friendship. I can give thee more gold than thou couldst carry the
length of this garden—more than thou and the strongest of thy companions
could raise from the ground!"
Cristoval raised his hand: "My Lord Inca, I pray you, do not offer it.
My friendship cannot be purchased. You have it now; and when my aid
availeth you shall have that also, though not for gold, my lord. I will
do all in my power in your behalf and to procure your freedom. I know
not my commander’s design, but should a greater evil threaten you than
hath already befallen, reckon my sword, if need be, in your defence."
Atahualpa studied him intently. The sincerity of Peralta’s tone was in
his eyes, and not to be mistaken. "Viracocha Cristoval," said the
monarch after a pause, giving his hand, "I know not whether an Inca ever
before asked forgiveness of any man, but I ask thine now! I believe I
know thy friendship’s worth."
"I thank you, my Lord Inca," replied Cristoval, simply. "But now, let me
counsel you. If you have gold at your command, offer it to Pizarro.
You shall find that when his nose smelleth a ransom he will turn a
willing ear. Have others present to witness your proposal; have De
Soto—he is an honorable man—and Candia, and Hernando Pizarro—the more
the better. And heed this carefully: Be not too liberal in your tender;
rather, be a shade niggardly at first, lest you over-stimulate his
cupidity. Your offer to me was extravagant, my lord. Be moderate, or
you may defeat your end. The hint of a too bountiful source from which
to draw may rouse ambition to possess the source itself. Were your
supply boundless as heaven, greed would rise to its full measure."
Atahualpa had listened with close attention. He pondered a moment, then
said: "I believe thy counsel is wise. I thank thee, my friend. I will
follow it."
*CHAPTER X*
_*A Royal Ransom*_
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?
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