Chapter XXVIII

Pizarro’s decision had been made quickly and the execution of his purpose went forward with sure and deadly speed.

With Almagro he assumed the place of chief judge. His brothers Hernando, Juan and Gonzalo were chosen associates. He would take no chances of a difference of opinion. His word must be law.

The forms prescribed for court procedure were ironically observed. His secretary was made clerk of the court, and its organization duly recorded. A prosecuting attorney was appointed, who at once summoned Atahualpa on trial for his life.

The Crown treasurer, Riquelme, with his associate royal officers, crowded close to the judges. They loudly demanded the Inca’s death as necessary to the safety of their treasures and the peace of the country.

Molina’s sudden entrance with Teresa, Gaspara, and Yma created a sensation that stopped the proceedings.

Pizarro’s rage against the Inca flamed anew over this outrage on the right of his ambassador. Almagro’s impetuous spirit rose to the occasion with a practical suggestion.

“We’ll burn the dog to death without a trial!” he shouted.

A chorus of approval shook the roof. But Pizarro lifted his hand for quiet and asked Molina his feelings.

Molina challenged the assemblage with head erect.

“I can but express my amazement,” he cried, “at your proposal to execute the Inca.”

“And this you say,” Pizarro exclaimed, “after months of chains in one of his dungeons?”

“Certainly, my captain. You sent me as your secret scout and spy. I understood the nature of my undertaking.”

“I sent you as my ambassador to his court,” Pizarro corrected.

“I had no credentials. You had no charter and could give none. The Inca knew from the first that I was a spy. He found the sketches of his forts and maps of his kingdom, which I had made, in my possession. Death would have been the penalty under Spanish laws for this offense. He only detained me until he could make sure of your purpose. I ask that the Inca be treated with Christian humanity.”

Pizarro saw that the cavalier was set in his determination to defend the monarch. Words on this point were a waste of breath. He wished confirmation of some conclusions of his own which bore directly on the wisdom of his course.

“I see,” he mused. “You have studied the customs and laws of the empire?”

“With care and keen interest.”

“Is it true, then, as we have been told,” Pizarro asked, “that the twelve million people of the kingdom are children of the State, their every want provided by the sovereign?”

“It is.”

“And the Inca is the State?”

Molina nodded.

“Not only is he the State, he is the living incarnation of their Sun God on earth,” he added.

“His word is the supreme law of life?”

“Absolutely.”

“His death would rouse or paralyze their wills?”

The cavalier caught the deadly purpose behind the question and hesitated to answer.

Pizarro faced him angrily.

“I am asking you, sir, for your report as my scout and spy. Answer.”

“His death for the moment would undoubtedly paralyze them.”

“And they would be twelve million automatons without a will?”

“Until called to action by some inspired leader--yes.”

The chief smiled.

“I thank you for your faithful services, and relieve you of duty until you regain your strength under the care of the brave girl who came to your rescue.”

Molina glared, but left the room with Teresa followed by Yma. Outside on the Plaza the cavalier turned to Teresa eagerly.

“You know the way to Huamachuco, the town to which they have sent De Soto?”

“Every mile of it. I’ve ridden there twice.”

“You must ride again and with all speed. Unless De Soto gets here before Pizarro can take action, the Inca’s fate is sealed. De Soto is not only entitled to sit as one of the chief judges, he commands a hundred men.”

“You’ll go, beautiful one?” Yma pleaded.

“I’ll go,” Teresa cried.

“Tell De Soto that they are putting the Inca through the farce of a trial in his absence. Beg him, if he loves truth, honor and decency to ride with every ounce of strength his horses possess.”

“And you will fight for his life until he comes?”

“I’ll do my best. I know none of these men save Almagro, and in this he will follow Francisco Pizarro. Have a care for your own life, my Teresa, but ride--ride for the life of the Inca and the love we bear each other.”

The fiery young horse was bridled, saddled and led to her. She mounted and followed the causeway to the north.

Yma seized the cavalier’s hand and kissed it.

“My glorious one--you, I shall worship always!”

Molina’s hand pressed hers.

“We’ve no time to lose, child--go quickly to the Inca’s mother and warn her of the peril of her son. Have her instruct Atahualpa under no circumstances to lose his temper at the trial. No matter what crude insults he may receive he is to answer not a word. I must return now.”

The girl flew to do his bidding and Molina entered the council chamber as the crisp words of Francisco Pizarro were summing up the situation for final action.

“The Inca alive is our constant peril. Molina has just confirmed my own opinions. His death at our hands will strike terror to twelve million people with no will save his. Our safety will be assured and the safety of our treasures. We cannot hold him prisoner without facing an uprising which he may order secretly at any time. The moment he is dead, the road to Cuzco is open and we are masters of the empire. We must comply with the forms of court procedure as a matter of record for the King. But we know what we are doing and we are going to complete the work without flinching. It is not a question of morals. That is past; it is a question of our lives or his. What say you, try him or not?”

“Try him!”

The vote was unanimous.

The clerk had been ordered to prepare the indictment. He was putting the finishing touches to the brief document when Molina reëntered.

“And this is your unalterable decision?” he asked Pizarro.

“That the Inca stand trial for his life within the hour.”

“I demand the right to appear in his defense,” Molina declared. “I have known him for two years and more. I am the man best fitted for the task.”

“You understand that as an officer of our expedition you can not vote on the verdict if you act as his counsel?”

“I understand.”

“Then it is agreed,” Pizarro replied without asking the opinion of his colleagues. “Bring your prisoner into court.”

“But I protest, your honors,” the cavalier gravely said, bowing both to Almagro and Pizarro, “that I have had no opportunity to confer with the accused. I have not seen the articles of indictment. I have had no time to secure or examine a single witness. I ask for an adjournment for at least twenty-four hours that I may prepare the defense.”

“We grant you one hour, no more,” Pizarro replied turning to Almagro. “You agree?”

“The hour’s too much time. I say burn him first and then discuss the case.”

“And I,” Molina protested, “will enter my solemn impeachment of this indecent haste. I demand that the clerk of the court put it on record.”

Pizarro waved his hand to his secretary.

“Enter it.”

The cavalier demanded of the clerk his indictment and read it with a scowl of contempt.

The charges were twelve in number. The important items in the bill of indictment charged that he had usurped the crown of the empire and murdered his brother Huascar, the rightful heir to the throne; that he had squandered the public revenues of his kingdom since the conquest of the country by the Spaniards and lavished them on his kindred and his minions; that he was guilty of adulterous practices indulging in a plurality of wives; that he was guilty of idolatry in worshiping the sun; and that finally he had attempted to incite an insurrection against the Spaniards.

The young cavalier glared at the judges with scorn.

“I ask the court to strike out as irrelevant all the clauses in this indictment save the last. What have you to do with the laws of the Incan Empire? Atahualpa succeeded to the throne of Quito by the will of his illustrious father, Huyna Capac. His brother declared war on him, was defeated, lost his crown and afterwards his life in the clash. Only the Emperor Charles V could sit as judge or arbiter in such a case.”

Pizarro lifted his hand.

“The charges stand.”

“Surely you can not consider the impudent assertion that he is guilty of idolatry in worshiping the only god he knows, the only god taught him by his father and mother? That he has a plurality of wives is the custom of his country. You can not stultify yourselves by listening to such an indictment!”

“We’ll hear them all!” Pizarro snapped. “I told the clerk to write them. Bring on your prisoner and proceed with the trial. You talk like a lawyer. Lawyers are forbidden to live under our charter!”

The Inca confronted his accusers with a look of dazed incredulity on his bronzed face.

When the indictment was read to him by Felipillo, his big head sank as if in an effort to escape the insults of a mob. He restrained his anger and replied with dignity.

“I am Inca of the Kingdom by its laws. My brother was executed by an order of royal council before whom his trial was held. They voted his death unanimously.”

“Then you lied when you declared that his jailors had killed him?” Pizarro thundered.

“I merely dissembled for the moment, commander. The jailor did execute him but by orders of the council. My wives are my own by rights thousands of years old. Your own soldiers have taken many women as slaves and held their bodies their property, denying them the rights of a wife to be loved and protected. That I never did. And you have established prostitution in Caxamalca--”

“Silence!” Almagro shouted. “We are not on trial. We’re trying _you_!”

The Inca bowed gravely.

“The only question on which you have the right to place me on trial is whether I have conspired to raise an insurrection. So far from this being true, I refused to escape when offered my freedom by a secret organization of my young men.”

“So there _has_ been a conspiracy!” Pizarro broke in angrily.

“At my command they dispersed. I had given you my word and kept it. Since that day there has not been lifted a single hand in my kingdom for my rescue. My word is law. There are no warriors gathered at Huamachuco. The country is quiet. My people await my orders. When your noble Hernando De Soto returns he will tell you this.”

By order of the clerk the Inca was asked a number of questions which Felipillo put with cunning and each time lied as to the answer.

Molina sprang to his feet in rage.

“I ask the court to dismiss this lying interpreter. He has given a false answer to every question put to the accused. If you will allow me I will ask the questions and give you the true answers.”

“You will not,” Pizarro promptly replied. “Your answers might be colored. He is the official interpreter. You cannot act in his place.”

The Inca returned to his quarters and a number of native witnesses were examined. In each case Felipillo supplied the fatal answers no matter what the frightened wretch said.

Unable to restrain his anger at the farce, Molina deliberately began a slow cross-examination designed to prolong the trial and give his messenger time to reach De Soto. He dragged these questions through an hour before Pizarro saw his purpose.

“No more questions, sir!” the presiding judge ordered.

The case was closed and the four Pizarro brothers with Almagro held a brief conference before pronouncing judgment.

“The only question, gentlemen,” Francisco Pizarro declared, “for us to decide is not whether he is guilty or innocent. We all know that he is guilty of the crimes charged and that death is the penalty. The only question we must ask ourselves is whether his death will bring us good or evil?”

“The quicker we kill him, the better,” snapped Almagro. The Pizarros agreed.

Francisco Pizarro, as presiding judge, pronounced the sentence.

“We find the Inca guilty of all charges made in the indictment and order his death in the Plaza of Caxamalca. Our executioner will burn him alive at the stake to-night.”

“Surely not to-night!” Molina shouted. “In the name of common decency I beg that he be given adequate time to prepare for his death.”

Pizarro fixed his eyes straight on Molina.

“I understand your purpose of delay, Sir Knight. He dies to-night.”

“Yes, and, by God’s wounds, De Soto can talk at the funeral to-morrow!” Almagro snarled.