At this critical juncture, Pizarro was strengthened by the arrival of his old supporter, the licentiate Espinosa, with two hundred and fifty men, and a shipload of arms and provisions from his great cousin Cortez. He started for Cuzco, but at the overpowering news of Almagro's wanton treachery, retreated to Lima and fortified his little capital. He was clearly anxious to avert bloodshed; and instead of marching with an army to punish the traitor, he sent an embassy, including Espinosa, to try to bring Almagro to decency and reason. But the vulgar soldier was impervious to such arguments. He not only refused to give up stolen Cuzco, but coolly announced his determination to seize Lima also. Espinosa suddenly and conveniently died in Almagro's camp, and Hernando and Gonzalo Pizarro would have been put to death but for the efforts of Diego de Alvarado (a brother of the hero of the Noche Triste), who saved Almagro from adding this cruelty to his shame. Almagro marched down to the coast to found a port, leaving Gonzalo under a strong guard in Cuzco, and taking Hernando with him as a prisoner. While he was building his town, which he named after himself, Gonzalo Pizarro and Alonso de Alvarado made their escape from Cuzco and reached Lima in safety.
Francisco Pizarro still tried to keep from blows with the man who, though now a traitor, had been once his comrade. At last an interview was arranged, and the two leaders met at Mala. Almagro greeted hypocritically the man he had betrayed; but Pizarro was of different fibre. He did not wish to be enemies with former friends; but as little could he be friend again to such a person. He met Almagro's lying welcome with dignified coolness. It was agreed that the whole dispute should be left to the arbitration of Fray Francisco de Bobadilla, and that both parties should abide by his decision. The arbitrator finally decided that a vessel should be sent to Santiago to measure southward from there, and determine Pizarro's exact southern boundary. Meantime Almagro was to give up Cuzco and release Hernando Pizarro. To this perfectly just arrangement the usurper refused to agree, and again violated every principle of honor. Hernando Pizarro was in imminent danger of being murdered; and Francisco, bound to save his brother at any cost, bought him free by giving up Cuzco.
At last, worn past endurance by the continued treachery of Almagro, Pizarro sent him warning that the truce was at an end, and marched on Cuzco. Almagro made every effort to defend his stolen prize, but was outgeneralled at every step. He was shattered by a shameful sickness, the penalty of his base life, and had to intrust the campaign to his lieutenant Orgoñez. On the 26th of April, 1538, the loyal Spaniards, under Hernando and Gonzalo Pizarro, Alonso de Alvarado, and Pedro de Valdivia, met Almagro's forces at Las Salinas. Hernando had Mass said, aroused his men by recounting the conduct of Almagro, and led the charge upon the rebels. A terrible struggle ensued; but at last Orgoñez was slain, and then his followers were soon routed. The victors captured Cuzco and made the arch-traitor prisoner. He was tried and convicted of treason,—for in being traitor to Pizarro, he had also been a traitor to Spain,—and was sentenced to death. The man who could be so physically brave in some circumstances was a coward at the last. He begged like a craven to be spared; but his doom was just, and Hernando Pizarro refused to reverse the sentence. Francisco Pizarro had started for Cuzco; but before he arrived Almagro was executed, and one of the basest treacheries in history was avenged. Pizarro was shocked at the news of the execution; but he could not feel otherwise than that justice had been done. Like the man he was, he had Diego de Almagro, the traitor's illegitimate son, taken to his own house, and cared for as his own child.
Hernando Pizarro now returned to Spain. There he was accused of cruelties; and the Spanish government, prompter than any other in punishing offences of the sort, threw him into prison. For twenty years the gray-haired prisoner lived behind the bars of Medina del Campo; and when he came out his days of work were over, though he lived to be a hundred years old.
The state of affairs in Peru, though improved by the death of Almagro and the crushing of his wicked rebellion, was still far from secure. Manco was developing what has since come to be regarded as the characteristic Indian tactics. He had learned that the original fashion of rushing upon a foe in mass, fairly to smother him under a crush of bodies, would not work against discipline. So he took to the tactics of harassment and ambuscade,—the policy of killing from behind, which our Apaches learned in the same way. He was always hanging about the Spaniards, like a wolf about the flock, waiting to pounce upon them whenever they were off their guard, or when a few were separated from the main body. It is the most telling mode of warfare, and the hardest to combat. Many of the Spaniards fell victims; in a single swoop he cut off and massacred thirty of them. It was useless to pursue him,—the mountains gave him an impregnable retreat. As the only deliverance from this harassment, Pizarro adopted a new policy. In the most dangerous districts he founded military posts; and around these secure places towns grew rapidly, and the people were able to hold their own. Emigrants were coming to the country, and Peru was developing a civilized nation out of them and the uplifted natives. Pizarro imported all sorts of European seeds, and farming became a new and civilized industry.
Besides this development of the new little nation, Pizarro was spreading the limits of exploration and conquest. He sent out brave Pedro de Valdivia,—that remarkable man who conquered Chile, and made there a history which would be found full of thrilling interest, were there room to recount it here. He sent out, too, his brother Gonzalo as governor of Quito, in 1540. That expedition was one of the most astounding and characteristic feats of Spanish exploration in the Americas; and I wish space permitted the full story of it to enter here. For nearly two years the knightly leader and his little band suffered superhuman hardships. They froze to death in the snows of the Andes, and died of heat in the desert plains, and fell in the forest swamps of the upper Amazon. An earthquake swallowed an Indian town of hundreds of houses before their eyes. Their way through the tropic forests had to be hewn step by step. They built a little brigantine with incredible toil,—Gonzalo working as hard as any,—and descended the Napo to the Amazon. Francisco de Orellana and fifty men could not rejoin their companions, and floated down the Amazon to the sea, whence the survivors got to Spain. Gonzalo at last had to struggle back to Quito,—a journey of almost matchless horror. Of the three hundred gallant men who had marched forth so blithely in 1540 (not including Orellana's fifty), there were but eighty tattered skeletons who staggered into Quito in June, 1542. This may give some faint idea of what they had been through.
Meanwhile an irreparable calamity had befallen the young nation, and robbed it at one dastardly blow of one of its most heroic figures. The baser followers who had shared the treachery of Almagro had been pardoned, and well-treated; but their natures were unchanged, and they continued to plot against the wise and generous man who had "made" them all. Even Diego de Almagro, whom Pizarro had reared tenderly as a son, joined the conspirators. The ringleader was one Juan de Herrada. On Sunday, June 26, 1541, the band of assassins suddenly forced their way into Pizarro's house. The unarmed guests fled for help; and the faithful servants who resisted were butchered. Pizarro, his half-brother Martinez de Alcántara, and a tried officer named Francisco de Chaves had to bear the brunt alone. Taken all by surprise as they were, Pizarro and Alcántara tried to hurry on their armor, while Chaves was ordered to secure the door. But the mistaken soldier half opened it to parley with the villains, and they ran him through, and kicked his corpse down the stair-case. Alcántara sprang to the door and fought heroically, undaunted by the wounds that grew thicker on him. Pizarro, hurling aside the armor there was no time to don, flung a cloak over his left arm for a shield, and with the right grasping the good sword that had flashed in so many a desperate fray he sprang like a lion upon the wolfish gang. He was an old man now; and years of such hardship and exposure as few men living nowadays ever dreamed of had told on him. But the great heart was not old, and he fought with superhuman valor and superhuman strength. His swift sword struck down the two foremost, and for a moment the traitors were staggered. But Alcántara had fallen; and taking turns to wear out the old hero, the cowards pressed him hard. For several minutes the unequal fight went on in that narrow passage, slippery with blood,—one gray-haired man with flashing eyes against a score of desperadoes. At last Herrada seized Narvaez, a comrade, in his arms, and behind this living shield rushed against Pizarro. Pizarro ran Narvaez through and through; but at the same instant one of the crowding butchers stabbed him in the throat. The conqueror of Peru reeled and fell; and the conspirators plunged their swords in his body. But even then the iron will kept the body to the last thought of a great heart; and calling upon his Redeemer, Pizarro drew a cross with bloody finger upon the floor, bent and kissed the sacred symbol, and was dead.
So lived and so died the man who began life as the swineherd of Truxillo, and who ended it the conqueror of Peru. He was the greatest of the Pioneers; a man who from meaner beginnings rose higher than any; a man much slandered and maligned by the prejudiced; but nevertheless a man whom history will place in one of her highest niches,—a hero whom every lover of heroism will one day delight to honor.
Such was the conquest of Peru. Of the romantic history which followed in Peru I cannot tell here,—of the lamentable fall of brave Gonzalo Pizarro; of the remarkable Pedro de la Gasca; of the great Mendoza's vice-royal promotion; nor of a hundred other chapters of fascinating history. I have wished only to give the reader some idea of what a Spanish conquest really was, in superlative heroism and hardship. Pizarro's was the greatest conquest; but there were many others which were not inferior in heroism and suffering, but only in genius; and the story of Peru was very much the story of two thirds of the Western Hemisphere.