“In those days,” he said, “the Inca was all-powerful, and a vast army bowed to his will. The city was surrounded by a triple wall of stone, in the heart of which stood the citadel and the home of the Virgins of the Sun. The Inca, knowing no fear, and ignorant of all treason, allowed the white men to enter the city and received them as friends, as envoys from that other great emperor beyond the seas.
“But the leader of the Strangers, doubting the generous heart of the Inca, had divided his army into three bands, marching toward the city in battle array. Then the Inca said, ‘Since they fear our hospitality, let us all leave the city, so that peace may enter their hearts.’ Thus it was that when the Conquistador rode through our streets, he met not a living soul, and heard no sound but the stamp of his own warriors’ feet.” Here the speaker stopped, as if to gather his thoughts, and continued:
“This was at a late hour in the afternoon. The Stranger then sent an ambassador to the Inca’s camp. He sent his brother, Fernando, and twenty horsemen. The Inca received Fernando on his throne, his forehead adorned with the royal borla. He was surrounded by his officers and wives.
“The Strangers came with words of honey, and the Inca replied: ‘Tell your leader that I am fasting until to-morrow. Then will I and my chiefs visit him. Until then, I allow him to occupy the public buildings on the square, but no others. I will decide to-morrow what is meet.’
“Now it happened that after these good words, a Spaniard, to thank the Inca, put his horse through its paces, for the prince who had never seen such an animal. And several of those present having shown fear, while the Inca himself remained impassible, the Inca ordered them to be put to death, as was just. Then the ambassadors drank chicha in golden vases brought to them by the Virgins of the Sun, and returned to Cajamarca.
“When they told their leader of what they had seen, the splendor of the Inca’s camp, the number of his troops, despair entered the soldiers’ hearts. At night they saw the Inca’s camp-fires lighting up the mountain-sides, and blazing in the darkness like a multitude of stars.”
The Indian paused again, then went on:
“But the Stranger, intent on evil, went among his men spreading the shameful words which gave them new courage. The next day, at noon, the Inca’s bodyguard advanced toward the city. The King could be seen above the multitude, carried on the shoulders of his princes. Behind him, the ranks of his own soldiers stretched as far as the eye could reach. The city was silent, save for the cry of the sentinels on the citadel walls, reporting the movements of the Inca’s army.
“First there entered into the city three hundred servitors, chanting songs of triumph to the glory of the Inca. Then came warriors, guards, lords adorned with silver, copper, and gold. Our Atahualpa, Son of the Sun, was borne above all on a throne of massive gold. Now, when Atahualpa, with six thousand men, had reached the great square without seeing a single white man, he asked: ‘Where are the strangers?’ And a monk, whom none had seen until then, approached the Inca, a cross in his hand. With the monk was an interpreter of our race. The Inca listened while the priest told him of his religion and urged him to abandon the faith of his fathers for that of the Christian. Atahualpa replied: ‘Your God was put to death by the men to whom he gave life. But mine lives still in the Heavens, and shines upon his children.”
At these words, the Indians surrounding the little band of Europeans turned toward the sun, just about to vanish behind the Andes, uttering a strange cry, a cry of mingled farewell and hope handed down by generations as the salutation of their faith to the God of Day. Above the reverently bowed throng, a purple sky awaited the coming of night.