The Conquistadors (38 page)

At the time Huáscar was defeated and captured, Pizarro and his Spaniards were already constructing the first colonial garrison town of San Miguel. Time was short, and clemency would seem to have been a political necessity for Atahualpa. The weeks passed: Atahualpa at Cajamarca, the Spaniards on the coast. Finally, in September, Pizarro marched. By mid-November his tiny force was emerging from the defiles of the Andes and descending into Cajamarca, where Atahualpa, waiting with his tented army by the hot springs two leagues from the town, meditated upon his course of action. He knew every detail of the Spanish force, for he had sent an embassy to Pizarro when he was still climbing laboriously through the defiles and another when he was advancing across the high ground. Both were embassies of welcome.

Was it a trick, as Pizarro believed, or was the welcome genuine?

For the answer to these questions we must see the situation from Atahualpa's point of view. Not Stalin, not Napoleon, not any dictator since the days of Rome, was so absolutely supreme as Atahualpa, now that he had assumed the royal
borla
and was Sapa-Inca of Peru at the peak of Inca power. He had only to speak and what he commanded would be done, his
chasquis
carrying the word through the whole three thousand miles of his fantastic empire. He might be apprehensive about what the incursion of this force represented for the future, but of the force itself he had nothing to fear; he could blot it out, or not, as he wished. Meantime, he was consumed with a sort of arrogant curiosity. So many reports, some of them conflicting, had been sent to him – about the ships, which he could probably just comprehend, about firearms and guns, which must have seemed to him highly exaggerated, about troopers who rode animals much larger than the llama. There was talk of a powerful prince across the water and of a new religion, with the cross as its symbol and a man-god who was killed by his own people. Pizarro had not gone to the same lengths as Cortés in giving invasion the semblance of a crusade, but the Dominican Friar, Valverde, was a dedicated missionary, and Atahualpa must have wondered about this Jesus, who, like himself, was the son of a god. So he waited with his army by the hot springs, letting the Spaniards struggle to the top of the defiles unmolested, letting them cross the high Sierra country without opposition, even giving them the stone-built security of Cajamarca for their rest camp. He was like a child mesmerized into inactivity by his curiosity.

Early on the morning of Friday, November 15, 1532, Pizarro arrived on the heights overlooking the town and saw for the first time the strip of lush meadowland beside the river, the tented camp sprawled out below the mountain on the far side of the valley. The slopes by which his army had to descend were grass-grown and not too steep; it was, in fact, relatively easy going and by noon he was within a league of Cajamarca. Here, Xeres says, he waited for his rearguard to catch up – ‘all the troops got their arms ready, and the Governor [Pizarro] formed the Spaniards, horse and foot, three deep, to enter the town'. Prescott says he marched in three divisions, which would seem more realistic since he could see for himself the size of the Inca's army and needed to make as brave a show as possible.

Cajamarca was empty and waiting for them, an extraordinary gesture on Atahualpa's part since it gave the Spaniards the advantage of a strong defensive position. Xeres gives us a very detailed picture of this Indian town of two thousand inhabitants.

The houses are more than two hundred paces in length, and very well built, being surrounded by strong walls, three times the height of a man. The roofs are covered with straw and wood, resting on the walls. The interiors are divided into eight rooms, much better built than any we had seen before. Their walls are of very well cut stones and each lodging is surrounded by its masonry wall with doorways, and has its fountain of water in an open court, conveyed from a distance by pipes, for the supply of the house. In front of the
plaza,
towards the open country, a stone fortress is connected with it by a staircase leading from the square to the fort. Towards the open country there is another small door, with a narrow staircase, all within the outer wall of the
plaza.
Above the town, on the mountain side, where the houses commence, there is another fort on a hill, the greater part of which is hewn out of the rock. This is larger than the other, and surrounded by three walls, rising spirally.

Having positioned his men in the main courtyard, Pizarro waited for some time, but as no messenger arrived from the Indian camp he sent de Soto with twenty horse to invite the Inca to meet him. He then went up to the top of the fort, was
appalled at the number of Indian warriors gathered in front of their tents and at once ordered his brother, Hernando, to follow de Soto with a further twenty horse. By then the usual afternoon clouds had gathered; it was raining and bitterly cold, with some hail. Because the dirt road between Cajamarca and the hot springs had been cut by the Indians, Hernando had to make a detour. This brought him to a bridge, where he found the first troop facing a group of warriors across a small stream. De Soto had gone on ahead with the interpreter, Felipillo. Hernando followed at once, fording the stream and pushing his horse straight through the Indian force on the further bank. He found the Inca seated at the door of his quarters on a small stool or throne, with his
orejones
and
curacas
about him, women squatting on the ground at his feet and a bodyguard of some four hundred armed warriors standing behind him.

The hot springs, now called the Baños del Inca, have hardly changed in more than four centuries. They still bubble out of the grass, steaming pools of sulphurous water covering about a quarter of an acre, and at week-ends the Indians come in bus-loads to immerse themselves in the public baths erected on the spot where Atahualpa had his quarters. These, according to Xeres, consisted of four rooms surrounding a courtyard with a bath to which pipes supplied both hot and cold water. There was another bathing pool outside. Both had stone steps leading down into them. ‘The room in which Atahualpa stayed during the day was a corridor leading into an orchard, near it there is a chamber where he slept, with a window looking towards the court and the ponds. The corridor also opens on the court. The walls were plastered with the red bitumen, better than ochre, which shined much, and the wood, which formed the eaves of the house, was of the same colour. Another room is composed of four vaults, like bells, united into one. This is plastered with lime, as white as snow. The other two are offices. A river flows in front of this palace.' This was the stream where de Soto had left his troop, and it still exists.

Since Xeres must have seen Atahualpa on many occasions, his description of him is probably more accurate than that of Cieza de León already quoted: ‘Atahualpa was a man of thirty years of age, good-looking, somewhat stout, with a fine face, handsome and fierce, the eyes bloodshot. He spoke with much dignity, like a great lord. He talked with good arguments and reasoned well, and when the Spaniards understood what he said they knew him to be a wise man. He was cheerful; but, when he spoke to his subjects, he was very haughty, and showed no sign of pleasure.' He was not talking at all, however, when Hernando saw him for the first time at the hot springs. He was wearing the
borla
‘which looked like silk, of crimson colour, fastened to the head by cords', and he was very much on his dignity – ‘his eyes were cast on the ground, without looking in any other direction'.

De Soto, still mounted, towered above him, his armour gleaming dully in the cold altiplano light. According to some accounts, he had forced his horse so close
to the Inca that the breath of its nostril stirred the fringe of the
borla.
This Atahualpa ignored, though he had never seen a horse before, remaining absolutely still and not speaking a word. Other accounts of this episode say that de Soto, seeing Atahualpa's natural interest in the beast on which he was seated, suddenly wheeled about and began showing off his superb horsemanship, the display culminating in his bringing his charger on to its haunches right in front of the Inca. In this account Atahualpa is supposed to have sentenced to death several of his chiefs who had flinched before the final charge. Whichever is correct – and the latter is certainly in keeping with the high-mettled character of de Soto – there is little doubt that the armoured caballero made a deep impression on both Atahualpa himself and his assembled chiefs, and that this was the cause of the indecisiveness on the following day.

At the time Hernando arrived de Soto had already delivered Pizarro's message requesting Atahualpa to visit the Spaniards in their camp. He had been answered indirectly by one of the
orejones,
who declared that Atahualpa was fasting, but would visit the Spaniards the following day. But when de Soto introduced Hernando as the Spanish commander's brother, Atahualpa broke his silence and began to complain that his chiefs in the Chira river had been ill-treated. He had had word of it from his local governor, who claimed that he had personally killed three Spaniards and a horse. Hernando immediately and hotly denied it – ‘neither he, nor all the Indians of that river together, could kill a single Christian'. They argued for a moment through the interpreter, Hernando bragging about what the Spaniards would do to Atahualpa's enemies and Atahualpa himself saying, ‘A chief refuses to obey me, my troops will go with yours, and you will make war on him.' To which Hernando countered quickly: ‘Ten Christians on horseback will suffice to destroy him.'

Women appeared with gold vessels filled with
chicha,
were sent back for larger ones, the Inca thus overwhelming the Spaniards with the traditional hospitality of the Sierra. They left finally, expecting Atahualpa to visit Cajamarca the following day. Xeres adds: ‘His camp was formed on the skirts of a small hill, the tents, which were of cotton, extending for a league, with that of Atahualpa in the centre. All the men were on foot outside the tents, with their arms, consisting of long lances like pikes, stuck into the ground. There seemed to be upwards of thirty thousand men in the camp.'

Though Atahualpa had said he would visit the Spaniards the following day, it was quite late on that fatal Saturday, November 16, that his state procession got under way. Since he was camped with all his warriors around him, the delay could not have been due to the time necessary to assemble the procession; it can only have been caused by a council of war in which the opinion of his advisers was either divided or contrary to his own. This is confirmed by the fact that, when he finally decided to make the move to Cajamarca, he sent a messenger to Pizarro to say that he would come armed as the Spaniards had into his camp. This was
clearly a concession to his military chiefs, who were probably disturbed at the strange lack of movement in the Spanish camp, no horses being exercised, not a soldier to be seen. As a precaution they lined the causeway with their warriors, sent thousands more into the grasslands on either side of the procession.

Though the main body of Atahualpa's army was in the Cuzco region, it was still a formidable array. First came a squadron of what might well be
chasquis,
since they were dressed in a chequered livery of different colours, who moved slowly down the causeway sweeping the road ahead of the Inca. Behind them came three squadrons in different dresses, singing and dancing, followed by ‘a number of men with armour, large metal plates, and crowns of gold and silver'. These were presumably the eighty or so chiefs who are described as carrying the Inca's litter, for it was amongst this group that Atahualpa appeared ‘in a litter lined with plumes of macaws' feathers, of many colours, and adorned with plates of gold and silver'.

Atahualpa was apparently dressed much more richly than on the preceding evening; besides the
borla,
his short hair was covered with golden ornaments, and round his neck he wore a collar of large emeralds – these were more probably turquoise. The state in which he moved, the whole cavalcade blazing with gold, was calculated to impress, for Atahualpa, in his march south, had grown accustomed to using the trappings of state as the visual symbol of power to consolidate what he had gained by force. His personal retinue was of the north,
orejones
from Quito determined to impress upon the old empire their power and wealth. To them Atahualpa was more than Inca – he was the conquered North reborn. He was, in fact, surrounded by men who were devoted to him personally and for whom he represented the glorious future.

His warriors, however, were almost certainly levies from the territories he had conquered, a fact that may have had a bearing on his subsequent behaviour. The distance to be covered was not great – six kilometres, in fact – but it was long enough for Atahualpa to have second thoughts. Alone there, seated high above the crowd, he had a clear view down the causeway to the silent, empty-seeming buildings ahead. Did he feel the menace of that dead, empty town – did he sense the plot that had been hatched, the slayers waiting at their posts? He was not, like Moctezuma of the Aztecs, a member of the priesthood. He was the son of the Sun, a god himself. A god cannot shrink from such small fears. But he was also human.

Half a mile short of Cajamarca he halted, gave orders for the tents to be pitched, and sent a message to Pizarro to say that he would stay there the night and enter Cajamarca in the morning.

The last moments of Inca power were now falling away like sand in an hourglass. Some instinct, some sixth sense may have warned him of this. We do not know whether he called a council of war, but he had clearly come to the decision that he needed more time, a night at least, in which to reflect upon the situation.

The extraordinary thing is that, on receipt of a reply from Pizarro, he changed his mind again, struck his half-pitched tents, and resumed the march, this time unaccompanied by the main body of his warriors and going forward with only some six thousand Indians, all unarmed. It makes us wonder what was in that message from Pizarro. What had so goaded him that he delivered himself helpless into the hands of the Spaniards? Did Pizarro, with the deadly insight of a peasant soldier, impute cowardice and a lack of true nobility and royalty?