Manco drew his cloak over his face with a groan. He dropped it and exclaimed hoarsely: "My lords, I go to the army to-night! The hour hath come for action. Mayta, thou wilt go with me. Do you, my friends, remain until the women are in safety. You will join me at Ollantaytambo."
"Sapa Inca——" began Quehuar; but Manco raised his hand and continued vehemently:—
"I go to-night! What wouldst have? That I sit clutching mine ears, or shuffling my feet to drown the wails of these unfortunates? Hear them! Hear them! Oh, by the gods, they drive away my reason! Come, Mayta: we go!"
He grasped the officer's arm, waved back the others, and hurried across the court. At the entrance of the next stood a sentinel, and the Inca halted, checking his salute. "Here, Mayta, thou 'rt unarmed. Take this." With his own hand he drew the soldier's sword and passed it to his companion. They hastened across another court filled with shuddering attendants, and through a third and smaller one to a narrow corridor along which they groped until halted by a door at its end. Manco hastily unbarred. It was a postern opening upon a terrace between the wall of the palace and the rivulet Huatenay. Opposite was a flight of steps leading to the bed of the stream, and they descended.
Meanwhile, within the walls of the Convent of the Virgins and in the street without, a hell-carnival was in progress too hideous to dwell upon. At the moment the Inca was passing through the outskirts of the city Juan Pizarro, mounted bareback, unarmored, and bareheaded, was charging into the tumult, followed by his brother Gonzalo and a few other cavaliers, sword in hand. Bellowing oaths, laying about with the flat of their blades, not infrequently with the edge, and leaping their horses upon the obstinate, they cut their way to the convent and rode in to rescue the unhappy inmates. Behind followed a dozen of the guard, only to throw aside their pikes and join in the fiendish revel, leaving their duty to the black-robed priests and friars who struggled through in their wake. One bore a crucifix; but the stout Valverde did better work with a bludgeon, breaking many a wicked face and ruffianly head in his career through the desecrated halls and gardens.
The night was far spent before the place was cleared, and its doors closed and guarded. Juan Pizarro was riding slowly back toward the square when a Cañare, who had lurked about the Spaniard for an hour in a vain effort to approach and be heard without a cleft skull for his pains, touched his leg and sprang back with hands upraised. Juan halted.
"Well?" he demanded brusquely, scowling at the Indio. "Hast business with me? If so, be brisk." The Cañare jabbered a stream of broken words in Quichua, not intelligible, but something, it seemed to be, about the Inca,—enough to arrest the attention of Juan Pizarro, and he demanded impatiently of his brother:—
"What saith the dog, Gonzalo? Canst make it out? Here, thou, say it over and slowly."
The Cañare repeated his words with better effect,—with immediate and startling effect, for Juan turned with a shout to his companions: "Dost hear, Gonzalo? Do ye hear, Caballeros? The Inca hath fled the city!" He kicked the ribs of his horse and galloped madly to the palace of Viracocha, across the great court and into the hall that served as a guard-room, filling it with the clamor of hoofs, and throwing its occupants into confusion. They seized their arms in a panic.
"Ho! The trumpeter!" he roared. "Out, and sound to horse! Out, and sound to horse! Presteza! Salta! To horse! To horse!" He went out like a whirlwind. Before he had reached his quarters the shrill, quick notes were rising from the square. Again, and again, and again the stirring measure, and the stable was alive with men, tossing saddles, tugging at straps, swearing, and panting in a frenzy. One after another, and by twos and threes, the mailed riders swung into saddle, seized lances from the rack, and clattered out into the plaza. The line formed rapidly, and the plunging, kicking, and head-tossing of the excited steeds had hardly subsided before it was in column and, led by Juan Pizarro, took up a trot behind the Cañare.