“Henceforth there is war without rest or mercy between us. Where any of this accursed race are found within the confines of the Four Regions, be they man, woman, or child, death, swift and pitiless, must overtake them. As they have dealt with us, so shall we deal with them. We will give blow for blow, death for death, and dishonour for dishonour, until the last of us shall have fallen in the holy strife or the last of them shall have paid the last penalty of their countless crimes—and that I, Manco-Capac, Inca and lawful Lord of the Four Regions, swear by the glory of our Father the Sun and his sister-wife the Moon, who now beholds my oath, and by the might and Majesty of That which may not be named, and in token of my oath I give my blood that it may bear witness for me or against me as I keep my oath or break it in that hour, be it soon or late, when my foot crosses the threshold of the Mansions of the Sun!”
As he said this the Inca lowered his sword and sheathed it. Then he drew his dagger, and baring his left arm he made a slight cut in it and held it over one of the bowls of chicha until a few drops of his blood had fallen into it. Then he gave the dagger to Ruminavi, who did the same and passed it on to the prince next in rank to himself, and so the dagger went round until a few drops from the veins of each one of the Blood had fallen into the vase. Then the dagger was passed to the other group, for it was not lawful that the pure blood should be mingled with any other, however slightly tainted, and the same ceremony was performed over the second bowl.
Then Manco raised the great goblet to his lips and drank and gave it to Ruminavi, and so the two goblets were passed round the two groups till they were drained to the last drop. And so the taking of the Oath of the Blood was completed.
There was not much rest that night for prince or warrior in the valley of Yucay and its guardian fortresses, for every hour runners came in from all parts of the country, some bringing news of new regiments marching up to the scene of action, some telling of isolated settlements of the Strangers cut off and given over to fire and sword, of detachments of the enemy making their way to the mountains overwhelmed in narrow gorges and on the brink of precipices, or caught on bridges and flung headlong into the torrents, and others again of the safe removal of stores and flocks of animals into parts of the mountains inaccessible to the heavy-footed Strangers and their war-beasts.
The next day the defences of the valley were once more inspected, outposts were thrown out, and ambushes laid, and so another day and another night passed, and at length, in the twilight of the second morning, there came runners in from the way of Cuzco bringing the news that a body of nearly a hundred horse were within two leagues of the fortress of Chinchero.
There was no need to give any further orders, for every man already knew what was to be done. All the way from Cuzco the Spaniards had not seen a single living thing. The whole country was silent and seemingly deserted. The great guardian fortress was as still and lifeless as a house of the dead.
They halted before it, and Juan Pizarro, who was in command of the troop, ordered half a score of his men to dismount and summon it to surrender. There was no answer to the summons, and when at length they entered it they found the vast halls of the palace stripped bare and deserted. Then they cautiously entered the fortress, only to find it in the same state. They had no men to spare for a garrison, for they knew not what work lay before them, and so, not a little mystified and not without some misgivings, Juan Pizarro ordered his men to re-mount, and then the difficult descent of the zigzag road began.
“I would sooner have seen that fortress swarming with men and have fought our first battle under its walls,” said de Soto, who was riding beside Pizarro, “than leave it empty like that in our rear. Methinks we shall find it full enough when we come back.”
“Ay, that is like enough,” said Juan, “but we could spare no men to keep it. We should have had a half-score of archers and as many arquebusiers to hold it for us, but they could ill be spared from Cuzco now, so we must take our chances of the retreat, if retreat we must.”
They accomplished the descent amidst an unbroken and ominous silence, and even by the time they reached the river they had not seen a single warrior. Fortress, palace, and terrace seemed alike deserted, and as they halted about thirty yards from the river-bank, Juan Pizarro said to de Soto—