CHAPTER VIII.
THE OATH OF THE BLOOD
That same night, when the last of the escort had returned, the bridge was taken up out of the river and all the dispositions for the defence of the valley against an attacking force were made as complete as possible. The Inca and his General personally inspected the vast stores of arrows, javelins, and spears that were accumulated in the fortresses. Between twenty and thirty sets and half-sets of armour, with as many swords, pikes, and battle-axes which had been taken from the Spaniards in the skirmishes of the last six months, were distributed among the bravest and most stalwart of Manco’s body-guard, and great stones and fragments of rock were laboriously carried up from the river bed and collected from the mountains and plateaus surrounding the valley, to be piled up on all the points of vantage ready to be hurled down on the heads of the attacking force.
Then towards midnight, when all the preparations had at length been completed, Manco and Ruminavi assembled their princes and chieftains on a high plateau of bare rock overlooking the valley.
Three hundred torchbearers formed a wide circle round them, and in the midst were two huge golden vases full of chicha. About these the nobles and chief warriors were grouped, and between them stood Manco clad in his Spanish armour, saving only for the helmet, in place of which he wore the scarlet Llautu surmounted by a plume of coraquenque feathers.
He looked round the ring of torchbearers and then upon the two groups of princes and warriors which had silently ranged themselves round either of the vases. But for the space of several minutes not a word was spoken. At length the broad yellow disc of the full moon began to show itself above the eastern ridge of the mountains. Instantly all eyes were turned towards it; then every head was bowed as the brilliant orb rose into full view.
As soon as its lower edge was clear of the mountain-tops Manco drew his sword and held it aloft so that the moonlight fell upon the long, polished blade, making it look like a slim shaft of burnished silver, and then he began to speak in tones very different from those in which he had that morning bidden his Spanish guests farewell. Then they had been gentle and courteous; now they were deep and full, instinct with majesty, and thrilling with indignant emotion.
“Brothers of the Sacred Blood and warriors of the Four Regions,” he said, addressing each of the groups in turn, “the ancient glories of our race and nation lie behind us, and between us and them there is the shame of division and the sorrow of defeat. But if the division had not gone before the defeat would not have followed after. Had not the Usurper—whose name shall be for ever accursed in the ears of the Children of the Sun—divided the armies of my conquering father into hostile factions, these calamities could never have fallen upon us. Is it to be believed that if the great Huayna-Capac had still commanded the united armies of the Sun these strangers, falsely called the sons of Viracocha, would have crossed those mountains which our Father in his wisdom raised up as bulwarks to guard the homes of his children? Would not they have been overwhelmed in the narrow passes? Would not they and their war-beasts have been starved on the bare and wind-swept punas; and would not those who might have been left have perished amidst the ice and snows through which the servants of the Usurper guided them in safety?
“But all that is past now,” he went on, with an added note of passion in his voice. “The conquering Strangers are here in our midst. They have plundered our treasure-houses, they have defiled our temples, and dishonoured the holy vestals of the Sun. They have proved themselves, not the descendants of gods, but of demons, and yonder, in the heart of the empire of our fathers, in the sacred City of the Sun itself, they are even now perpetrating their vilest abominations and wreaking their cruel will and sating their foulest lusts like masters and conquerors in a land of slaves!”
The Inca paused for a moment, and as he looked about him he saw by the light of the torches frowning brows, dark, gleaming eyes, and white, clenched teeth shining through parted lips, and he heard a low, growling, hissing sound that would have boded but ill in the Spaniards’ ears. Then he went on again—
“But as the Ancient Wisdom says, out of evil there may often come good, and out of the grave evils that have befallen us and our people there has come this good—that, though defeated and broken, we have become united, and so are still unconquerable. Now, for the first time since the death of the great Huayna, the heart of every warrior within the Four Regions is beating high and true for his lawful Lord and his beloved country. It has fallen to me, the unworthy bearer of the Divine Name, to lead you, my brothers of the Blood, in the last struggle with the invader of our country and the dishonourer of our holy things. Before two more suns have risen and set that struggle will have begun, and we have come here unto this holy place, where the Divine Manco held his first war-council, to take the most solemn oath that the lips of the Children of the Sun can utter that, when that struggle has once begun, it shall not end while an invader is left alive in the land or one of us has power to do him harm.