The virgin of the sun

by George Chetwynd Griffith

“Ay, that were best,” replied Don Hernando, “when you start a savage running keep him going, and we may as well scale the wall while it is yet unguarded.”

While this conversation had been going on between the two leaders the archers and crossbow-men of the two parties had been busy collecting the arrows and bolts which they had shot, pulling and cutting them out of the flesh of those they had slain with them, and so Don Hernando, now taking the chief command, ordered them to scale the third undefended wall and spread themselves out in skirmishing order on the little plain above it. After them went the musketeers, of whom there were now five-and-twenty, and then Don Hernando, leaving half a score of mounted men to watch the horses and keep the terrace clear, dismounted and led the rest of his men, to the number of over sixty, to the final assault on the citadel.

While they were clearing the wall and dragging the ladders after them the archers, crossbow-men, and musketeers had been advancing slowly across the little plain towards the citadel, driving the now disheartened Peruvians before them. For generations the great fortress had been rightly believed to be impregnable. Horde after horde of the savage tribes of the east had dashed themselves to fragments against its triple walls and until now no enemy had ever yet set foot even upon its first terrace, and yet here a mere handful of these unconquerable strangers stood triumphant on its topmost tier. To them it was the work of demons rather than of men, and, following as it did upon unnumbered defeats and only a single victory, it was little wonder that in such a moment the hearts of the bravest failed them.

The three Spanish ranks advanced almost without resistance to the walls of the central citadel. The other two towers had been deserted, but round the base of the central one the remnants of the garrison were drawn up ten or twelve deep in a solid human wall of desperate, though it might be despairing valour, and its three terraces and broad, flat roof were filled with men who had there taken their last stand ready to die to a man for the country and the homes which they could no longer save.

But however desperate their valour and resolution they were of little avail against the well-proved science of Don Hernando and his lieutenants. Though there were others amongst the Conquerors who could have led a charge more brilliantly or fought a pitched battle in the open against overwhelming odds with better chance of success than he, yet when it came to such an attack as this, where skill and caution were equally needed, he was without a rival.

The moon had risen now and in the clear air of that elevated region the light was quite bright enough for accurate aim either with bow or arquebus, so he planted his force in three lines arranged in a semicircle about the citadel, which, as has been said before, stood close to the perpendicular face of the fortress overlooking the city. In front were the musketeers lying down with their pieces levelled at the close ranks beneath the walls. Behind them was the line of cavaliers and troopers armed with their long swords, battle-axes, and pikes, and behind them again were the archers and crossbow-men; and the plan of the battle was this:—

First the musketeers sent a murderous volley into the ranks round the base. Then, while they reloaded, the second line charged past them to increase with axe and pike and sword the havoc which the musket-balls had wrought, and while they were doing this the third rank sent their volleys of arrows and bolts into the crowded masses on the terraces. Then when the musketeers had reloaded Don Hernando gave the signal for the second rank to disengage itself and retire behind them, and as the defenders rushed forward they were met by yet another volley of balls, and hard after these came the charging steel again.

Thus, volley after volley and charge after charge were made and ever the close and well-directed flights of bolts and arrows rained with deadly effect upon the impotent defenders of the citadel whose feeble weapons were useless at a range at which the Spanish long-bows and arbalests were almost as deadly as modern rifles.

To such a fight there could be but one end, and so the time came when the last volley of musketry and the last charge of the sword and pike rent asunder the ranks of the defenders at the base and scattered their remnants weaponless and terror-stricken over the plain. Then Don Hernando bade his musketeers stand up and use their resting-forks so that they could play on the terraces of the citadel and he kept them and the archers and crossbow-men at this work until every bullet and arrow and bolt had been shot away. Then he ordered up the ladders and the last assault began.

All this time Ruminavi had been striding up and down the roof of the citadel exhorting his warriors to stand fast and die as he had sworn to do, in battle rather than in that slavery to the Strangers which was now the only alternative. Though ever erect himself and passing by some miracle scathless through the storm of missiles, he had kept his men crouching behind the parapets so that as many of them as possible might remain for the last struggle, and this struggle when it came was a bitter one, for now the fight was hand to hand, weapon to weapon, and man to man.