CHAPTER XL
Glory and Peace
We shall be brief with the last scenes of the tragedy of Tavantinsuyu. It was night when Cristoval arrived at the heights overlooking Cuzco, and the city lay dark and silent below. But the vast circle of the fires of the besieging host sparkled no more. The army had vanished. He found a remnant among the hills, picked warriors of the empire, led by Manco, and chosen to die in its last burst of glory.
There were long weeks of fighting about the city; fierce dashes by the Spaniards, driven by famine from their lair among the ruins, more fiercely resisted by the watchful Manco, to be many times hunted back with shattered ranks. The Inca's small body of horsemen grew as steeds were captured from the foragers, and it met the raiders in more than one sharp encounter and pursuit ending only in the environs of the city.
But at last came reënforcements from Francisco, and Manco withdrew to Ollantaytambo to rest and recruit his battle-worn warriors, leaving Cristoval with his riders and a small command of Antis to watch. Not many days later, it was learned from a captured Cañare that the Spaniards were planning an attack in force on Ollantaytambo. Assured of the information, Cristoval joined the Inca for its defence. They had not long to wait. With a strong body of cavalry and infantry, Hernando made a stealthy detour through the mountains in the valley of the Urubamba. He approached the fortress under cover of darkness and attacked at dawn, confident of taking it by surprise. Before midday his column was flying for Cuzco, defeated, demoralized, and in utter rout, with the Inca in hot pursuit.
Once more Cristoval's band of horsemen and Mocho's Antis were scouring the valley of Cuzco, lurking in the hills and passes, striking now here, now there; and intercepting, scattering, or destroying, the parties which need of food or greed of plunder led from the city. Informed by vigilant scouts of every move of the enemy, and guided by men familiar with every ravine and mountain trail, he struck often and with terrible unexpectedness. Repeatedly the Pizarros sent, and even led, in chase, always fruitlessly, or with disaster. If the swift-moving band was encountered, it was in some position of its leader's own choosing which more than offset the Spaniards' advantage of numbers. The cry, "El Renegado!"—for so Cristoval became known—grew to be one of terror; and raised suddenly in a party of marauders, it carried panic. Impelled by the wrongs of his adopted people—those suffered in the past, and blacker ones which he knew were to follow—he fought with reckless fury.
One night, while in bivouac a few leagues from Cuzco, a chasqui brought Cristoval a summons to Ollantaytambo with his command. The first thought of the cavalier was of the joy of seeing Rava. The next, an undefined disquiet. Before dawn he was on the march.
It was late when he entered the fortress, to be taken immediately to Manco's chamber. Paullo was with the Inca, and both embraced the cavalier with affection, the Inca adding a warm appreciation of his zeal and intrepidity. Paullo retired to apprise Rava. Manco regarded the march-stained soldier in rusty armor and said with less than his usual calm, but without the former gloom:—
"Cristoval, my brother, I have sent for thee to entrust another mission. Once more thou wilt take my loved ones to a place of safety. At dawn I leave with a few followers for a stronghold in the mountains of Apurimac, there to await the moment for reassembling my army. For the present, Ollantaytambo must be abandoned, and my few remaining troops disbanded. My last granary, my last armory, my last resource, have been exhausted.—But, my friend," he went on, with increased energy, and taking the cavalier by the arm, "think not that Manco hath succumbed!—nor that his sword will sleep through the months of waiting."
"Then I should be among your followers, my lord," said Cristoval.