The Last Days of the Incas (42 page)

A number of Hernando’s men were presumably equally suspicious of Almagro’s intentions. Most of these were wealthy
encomenderos
who owed their privileged positions directly to Francisco Pizarro. If Almagro did seize the city, then these same men might have the
encomiendas
they had just risked their lives for rescinded, and no doubt transferred to Almagro’s followers. They had won their
encomiendas
by force of arms, and by force of arms they would keep them. At one point, a group of them “seized their weapons in great anger and rode their horses out of the city, saying ‘Well then! Now that matters have come to a head, Almagro had better not think that he can give our native chiefs away to the men who came with him from Chile!’”

Other Spaniards in the city, however, especially those who had received no
encomiendas
, had mixed feelings. Perhaps Cuzco did lie within Almagro’s jurisdiction, after all. If so, then if they sided with Almagro they might be in a better position to receive
encomiendas
of their own. Besides, after being cooped up for nearly a year together under extremely difficult conditions, more than a few of them had developed an extreme dislike for Hernando Pizarro, if they hadn’t already felt that way before.

At thirty-six years of age, Hernando Pizarro was still
the same tall, heavy, massively built, arrogant, greedy, selfish, and insulting individual that he had been before the siege; that is, he was still the man who wore his position, status, and accomplishments on his sleeve—and who treated almost everyone else as an inferior. The emperor Atahualpa is said to have remarked that he had witnessed no other Spaniard who acted so much like an Inca lord than Hernando Pizarro, for the two shared a similarity of ruling styles in that both displayed open contempt for their subordinates. In the Inca case, such behavior was culturally prescribed—the display of contempt was standard Inca ruling protocol. In Hernando’s case, however, such behavior induced a strong negative reaction in many of his fellow Spaniards and thus was a decided defect in his leadership style. For years, Hernando had referred to the illegitimate Almagro as that “circumcised Moor”—one of the worst insults, apparently, that a Spaniard in the sixteenth century could use against a fellow Spaniard. Hernando had also often abused his other contemporaries. It shouldn’t be surprising, then, that not only did Diego de Almagro hate Hernando Pizarro, but so, too, did many of Hernando’s own men.

Since the recent lifting of Manco’s siege, the Spaniards in Cuzco were now no longer holed up in the two buildings on the main square. Many had returned to their original homes in the city, at least those homes that had not been consumed in the great fire. Hernando had already reestablished himself in Huayna Capac’s former palace on the eastern side of the main square, known as the Amaru Cancha. Somehow, the palace had miraculously escaped being burned.
^*
Hernando, Gonzalo, and about twenty Spaniards loyal to the Pizarros now set up artillery in the doors of the palace and used it as a redoubt, determined to resist if Almagro tried to seize Cuzco. Although some thought that Hernando’s distrust of Almagro was exaggerated, in this case at least, those suspicions turned out to be justified.

On the night of April 18, 1537, at about two in the morning, a heavy cold rain beat down upon the slumbering city. Diego de Almagro, seasoned commander that he was, had chosen this precise moment—when his forces would be least expected—to attack. With cracks of lightning periodically illuminating the night, Almagro and his men entered the city
and quickly captured the church of Hatun Cancha on the main square, one of the two buildings Hernando’s men had taken refuge in during the siege. Other captains now seized the principal streets of the city, deploying more than 280 cavalrymen in the process. Almagro’s second-in-command, Rodrigo Orgóñez, meanwhile—the same man who had beaten out Hernando de Soto for that position—led a detachment that surrounded the Amaru Cancha palace, where Hernando and Gonzalo Pizarro and about twenty men were still sleeping, unaware that a political coup was unfolding just beyond their doors.

It wasn’t until the Inca capital was already firmly in Almagro’s control that Hernando and his men realized that something was amiss. Leaping up, Hernando, Gonzalo, and the rest of the Spaniards grabbed their weapons and began a fierce battle against their attackers, who had seized the small cannons that had been stationed in the doorways and were now trying to force their way inside. Rodrigo Orgóñez, meanwhile, frustrated at not being able to enter, shouted outside in the rain that if Hernando would give himself up then he would be well treated. Hernando, ever disdainful, is said to have retorted “I will not surrender to a [lowly] soldier such as you are!” to which Orgóñez replied, “That he was Captain-General of the Government of New Toledo, and that he [Hernando Pizarro] was only a Lieutenant [Governor] of Cuzco; In any case, Orgóñez was a high-ranking man and Pizarro needn’t be so contemptuous [of the thought] of surrendering to him.”

With Hernando and his defenders refusing to come out, Orgóñez now ordered that their palace be set on fire. Although the Amaru Cancha was built of high stone walls and possessed two stone towers, part of its roof was covered with a fine, maroon-colored tropical hardwood while the rest was roofed with traditional native thatch. Despite the rain, Almagro’s men soon succeeded in setting the thatched roof on fire. Sheets of flame now began to rise up, illuminating in red the faces of many of the besiegers. As the fire spread, smoke began flowing out from beneath the stone lintels of the palace’s doors, like a series of black, upside-down waterfalls. Almagro’s men, meanwhile, waiting expectantly outside with their swords drawn, were surprised that Hernando and his men made no attempt to surrender. According to Cieza de León,

Such was the reunion—“with blows and other outrages”—of the two groups of Spaniards who had been separated now for nearly two years, both having desperately fought for their own survival in different parts of the Incas’ vast empire. Almagro’s men now bound, chained, and imprisoned the two Pizarro brothers along with their twenty supporters. The following day, Almagro had them transferred to the temple of the sun—once the holiest place in the empire, now a makeshift Spanish prison.

While Almagro occupied himself with the capture of Cuzco, Manco Inca, meanwhile, had been gathering an assembly of his chiefs at Ollantaytambo, some thirty miles away. Native spies had informed their emperor about the Spanish struggle over Cuzco and, once the city had been seized, about how most of Hernando’s men had gone over to the side of Almagro. Almagro was presently in possession of Cuzco with more than six hundred Spaniards, the spies told Manco, plus perhaps four thousand native auxiliaries. Manco was also well aware that a second Spanish force of nearly five hundred men was fast approaching Cuzco from the north. If either or both groups decided to attack him at Ollantaytambo, this time he would be unable to repel their attack. Looking out over an assembled crowd of expectant
chiefs and captains, most of whom had fought alongside him during the last year, and also over the large number of feather-adorned, bow-and-arrow-wielding Antis in attendance, Manco addressed them as follows:

The speech was no doubt both a solemn and a poignant one, for, despite Manco’s casual mention that he was merely off to visit his fierce Amazon allies “for a few days,” its real message was not lost on any of those present. Manco Inca, Son of the Sun, emperor of Tawantinsuyu, was abdicating control of the western, southern, and northern quarters of the empire. He was abdicating control of the coast. He was abdicating control of the majestic, snow-capped Andes—the home of his ancestors and of the Incas’ immortal mountain gods. He was abdicating control of Cuzco, his boyhood home and the capital of the empire, despite having fought for nearly a year to recapture it. He was abdicating control of Calca, of Yucay, of Ollantaytambo, and of the entire Yucay Valley. In short, the emperor was abandoning most of the vast empire that he had inherited and that his ancestors had founded. Manco was instead about to take refuge in the small, eastern portion of the empire, in what the Incas called the Antisuyu.

Only in the rugged Antisuyu, Manco felt, could he and his loyal followers find safety from future attacks. Perhaps there, where the Andes sloped down and finally plunged beneath a vast carpet of seemingly endless forests, and where hirsute animals that looked like humans, or
runa
, swung through the trees, could he and his Inca nobles continue to rule. The rest of his subjects, millions upon millions of them, would unfortunately have to submit to the will and depredations of the invaders.

For the audience of native chiefs, it was clear that their own widely scattered towns and villages would soon be heavily affected by Manco’s decision. And although many of them likely made their own individual speeches at this historic juncture, Manco’s son Titu Cusi recorded only one of them. A noble, wearing a knee-length tunic and with large golden plugs in his ears, replied:

Manco responded to the chiefs by reassuring them that he would soon see them again and that he would also stay in close touch via messengers. Manco warned them, however, not to trust the bearded strangers and not to “believe a word they say because they lie a lot, and have lied in everything they have had to do with me.” As the living representative of the divine Inti, or sun god, Manco also warned the assembled crowd that the invaders would probably insist that their own gods be worshipped: