“And moreover,” chimed in Riquelme, in his soft, official voice, “methinks there is but little need, even if such a thing might be permitted, to which I, as the servant of his Majesty, could never consent. Have we not proof enough already—nay, have not the Inca’s own words convicted him of contumacy? Has he not defied us and laughed our careful justice to scorn? Have not all the witnesses spoken against him, and since none have spoken for him, not even himself, is it not best that we should deliberate forthwith on our judgment, and when arrived at consider the best means of putting it into effect?”
Pizarro, who all this time had been looking at the unmoved, averted face of the Inca, now glanced round the table at which they were sitting, and, reading approval in the faces of all present, he said in a tone which plainly showed how weary he was of the whole base business and how glad he would be to see it ended—
“Very well, Señores, since that seems to be the wish of all of you, so be it. Let the Inca be conducted back to his apartment.”
The captain of Atahuallpa’s guard saluted, and then touched him on the shoulder. The touch seemed to waken him out of a dream, for all this time he had never taken his eyes off the distant hills beyond which, as he knew, thousands of his faithful subjects were encamped, or it might be even now on their way to attempt his rescue. A little shudder seemed to run through his frame at the touch. He turned and saluted his judges with a gesture full of royal dignity, and without a word followed his guards from the room.
As might be expected, the court did not take long in finding its verdict, and within an hour Atahuallpa was found guilty of crimes enough to have sent half-a-dozen men to their death if judged by such a tribunal. He was guilty of fratricide in procuring the death of Huascar; of treason and conspiracy against the Spaniards and their sovereign as rightful lord of the country; of wasting, embezzling, and misapplying its revenues after the Spaniards had entered into possession of it. Further, he was guilty of idolatry and concubinage; and lastly, as though to fitly cap the solemn farce, he was convicted of prosecuting unjust wars to the injury and oppression of his country and its people!
“And now, Señores,” said Pizarro, when these formidable counts had at length been agreed to, “since the finding of the court is ‘guilty’ it remains but to pass sentence. Señor Zarate, what says the law in such matters?”
“The court,” replied the Doctor, rising and speaking in a pompous, inflated tone, “hath by the laws of Leon and Castille discretion to pass on one found guilty of so many grave offences two sentences at least. Should its judgment incline rather to mercy than justice it may pass sentence of a fine proportionate to the means of the culprit and banishment to some place of safe keeping. Should it, on the other hand, see in these heinous crimes no room for the exercise of mercy that would be compatible with the safety and good order of these realms, then the only sentence that it can pass will be death by such means as may be considered best merited by the crimes of the condemned.”
“But is there not a third course?” said Pizarro, as though even as this last moment he shrank from soiling his hands with the blood of his captive. “Is not this a somewhat hasty proceeding, Señores? I confess that of late my mind has somewhat misgiven me as to our competence to do this thing. Hath not, after all, the Inca a right to be tried, as every other man hath, by his peers? and if so, would not a more proper course be to pronounce the lighter sentence and send our prisoner, with a due statement of this process that we have held, to the government at Panama, so that either final judgment may be pronounced by the Viceroy or the Inca may be sent to Spain to receive his sentence from the august lips of our master the Emperor?”
In this wise and temperate proposition lay the Inca’s last hope of justice or even of life, but when, after a heated discussion, it was put to the vote only five out of the fifteen members of the court voted in favour of it. Valverde, Almagro, Riquelme, and Zarate all spoke vehemently in favour of death, and in the end their arguments and the veiled threats which they did not scruple to use so far prevailed with the Captain-General that when the vote had been given he, although with manifest reluctance, ordered his secretary to affix his signature to the death-warrant. The five dissentients, to their everlasting credit, not only refused to sign, but afterwards drew up a formal protest against the haste and injustice of the act which was about to be done, and this document has to-day an honourable resting-place among the archives of Spain.
As soon as the fatal parchment had been signed Pizarro took Filipillo with him and went himself to the Inca to acquaint him with his doom and make him ready to die on the morrow. Atahuallpa heard it with the dignity and composure which proved how fully he had already resigned himself to the inevitable, but this did not prevent him from reproaching Pizarro, albeit with mildness and dignity, for this shameful breach of all his promises and his treachery in first taking the ransom and then consenting to his murder. These reproaches, well merited as they were, did not reach Pizarro’s ears as the doomed Inca spoke them, for the malice of Filipillo, still unsatisfied even by the knowledge that by the light of the next sun he would see Atahuallpa done to death, translated them so that they became the vilest opprobrium, which, being uttered, as Pizarro saw it was, without passion or violence, appeared to him doubly insulting on account of the scorn and contempt which the Inca’s manner seemed to display.