Chapter IX

When Yma discovered that Molina could not be taken through the mere sight of her beauty or the voluptuous appeal of her lovely body, by a quick intuition she changed her method.

She would make her presence free from all attempt at allurement. She would work a charm of habit so subtle that he could not arm himself against it. Never once, after the first night of offered surrender, did she hint of love. She was simply a slave to the bidding of her master. His commands were her joy; her service an act of worship.

Her first suggestion for his daily life was so sensible he agreed immediately. He must master the Quicha language, the spoken word of the Inca Empire. She would learn to speak his tongue and together they could train others.

The Spaniard found her new ways harder to resist than the more obvious one with which she began. Through the long hours of their study of the languages she was ever modest, gentle and worshipful.

Her attitude of worship was the one restful thing about her. It was a strange experience for the cavalier. The sense of being regarded as a god was a queer feeling. It reacted on his conscience and his outlook on life. It held him to ideals. He could not afford now to act as common clay. The girl’s worship was an incense that glorified life. It gave him strength to resist the lure of her body. It brought to his loneliest hours of longing for Teresa a new strength. And yet, it was this very attitude that, to an extent, weakened him. It was easier for his conscience, but it maddened his masculinity. Yma’s strategy was subtle. Molina’s ideals struggled with his inclinations. If she threw her beautiful arms around his neck now--and he tacitly hoped she would--the battle would be a hard one.

As the days passed and no sign of an invasion of the kingdom appeared, the Inca’s fears passed. He allowed his strange guest complete liberty to go and come as he pleased.

Yma planned a journey of inspection of the kingdom to which Molina eagerly agreed. It would give him the opportunity to map the country, locate its roads and forts, gauge the number of its inhabitants, and estimate the strength of its resources and armies. To the girl it meant the glory of moonlit nights in the tropics amid scenes of surpassing splendor. His heart would be of stone if it did not melt at visions she would show to him.

The highways were a source of endless wonder to Molina. The litters on which they were swiftly borne passed over endless miles of wide, paved roads, such roads as Europe had never seen or the world known since the days of the Roman Empire.

Yma led him first over the highway of the Grand Plateau between the first ranges of the Andes. They climbed swiftly into the clouds. Across trackless sierras of dazzling snow the trail was never lost. Tunnels ran through miles of solid rock. Rivers were crossed over slender suspension bridges that spanned gorges miles in depth. Mountain crests were scaled by hewn stairways cut into the rocks. Narrow ravines of almost fathomless depths were filled with solid masonry to meet the level of the tunnels.

“How long, my Yma, is this miraculous roadway?” Molina asked as they began the descent into the great plateau.

“Two thousand miles, Señor,” was the quick reply.

He laughed at the quaint way her lips framed the Spanish “señor.”

They stopped at a post resthouse perched on the cliff to enjoy the grandeur of the view. Molina never tired inspecting the huge granaries of these stations. He always found them not more than five miles apart. These were not only for the use of the traveling public, but were the homes of the post runners who carried the royal mails with such swift efficiency.

These runners, called _chasquis_, were young athletes selected for their speed and fidelity. In addition to the delivery of the royal mail they also carried delicacies for the table of the Inca and his nobles: fish, fresh from the sea and streams, and fruits and game. Molina could recall no such institution in all Europe.

In the great plateau he found the kingdom of the Inca in its full development, a complete system of civilization more highly organized than life in Spain. All labor was for the common good. No man could accumulate more than his needs. There could be no poverty. There was no want. No man might better his lot, or leave the place of his birth without the summons or consent of the Inca. Every man, not assigned to duty in the army or the public works, was required to till the soil. The Inca himself set the example at the spring festival by entering the fields and spading the soil.

Agriculture had developed in the most marvelous ways. Arid spaces were watered by a system of aqueducts conveying swift streams of pure water from the mountain heights. The mountain sides were terraced for miles in height. These terraces were covered with rich soil carried and hauled by hand. Potatoes, corn, and vegetables grew in rich profusion.

Each man’s crop, when harvested, was divided into three portions: one for the Inca, one for the Temple of the Sun, and one for the man who toiled. The portion of the Inca was stored in the royal granaries against any possible day of want. From these storehouses, all public servants, the army, and the miners were supplied. The labor required to till the soil was light, when evenly distributed. The people held no fear of the future. They literally had become children of the sun. Their chief pleasure was the dance. When night softly fell from the tropic skies, the lights of a thousand feasts and dances gleamed in the valleys.

An overseer was set over a group of ten families. A controller ruled a hundred families. A lieutenant-governor ruled five thousand families, a governor ten thousand, and a viceroy had the oversight of a province consisting of forty thousand families. Each officer reported to his superior and the viceroy went several times a year to report in person to his emperor, the Inca.

Secret agents traveled continuously, incognito, over the kingdom, inspected each village, noted the conduct of its officers, and reported to the sovereign.

Crimes were rare, but when committed were met with swift, dire punishment. Murder, adultery, rape, incest and similar violations of the moral code were punishable by death. Only a governor could pronounce a death sentence, with the right of appeal to the highest authorities.

Theft was punished in a unique manner. If the culprit stole from want the official responsible for his condition must pay the penalty. The thief was then provided with land, clothing, food, and all necessities. If such a man still would steal, he was executed immediately.

The men did the heavy work, the women assisting in seedtime and harvest. In addition to her house-work, while men tilled the fields and worked the mines, the women made shoes, cloth and clothes for their families.

Immoral women were not permitted to live within a village. Their heads were shaven and they were driven into the forests. If a respectable wife spoke to such a woman she suffered the same penalty. There were no brothels in Peru. There were no public drinking places, no brawls over drink or women.

The fishing off the coast and in the rivers and streams was free to all, but only the Inca or his wardens were allowed to kill game.

The standard type of dwelling was of the simplest form suitable to the tropics--small buildings of adobe brick, thatched with straw. Large families had two rooms, small ones but a single room. Wooden chairs and tables, an open fireplace with cooking pots and pans and a bed, slightly elevated from the floor, completed the ordinary outfit.

Corn, potatoes, and llama mutton were the staple foods. The people ate but two meals a day, one in the forenoon and one at sunset.

Their principal drink was a beer made from corn and a more highly developed whisky which was called _sora_. They had early learned the magic qualities of the coca shrub and chewed its leaves as a sort of tobacco. Its effects were stimulating to a high degree. By chewing these leaves, from which the modern drug of cocaine is distilled, a workman could labor a day without food, unconscious of fatigue. Tobacco was used only in the form of snuff.

The travelers reached a large village at a most exciting moment. The entire population had gathered on the green.

“What is it?” Molina asked of his fair guide.

The girl laughed gayly.

“Come. It’s the marriage festival day. Every boy and girl in Peru must be married, the boy before the age of twenty-four, the girl before the age of twenty.”

“And if they do not?”

“The controller makes them marry.”

“I see!” the cavalier exclaimed.

“On this day in every village of the kingdom the boys and girls gather on the greens and claim their mates. They must choose their mates from their own community. Both the parents and the bride and groom must consent....”

“But unless they find a mate, the controller will arrange it for them?”

“By all means, Señor. They must marry.”

She looked meaningly at Molina, and he, unable to meet her gaze--half yearning, half amused--turned away.

They went to an excited group of people. The controller was in action. A stubborn youth had refused to marry, though twenty-four years of age. Again Molina avoided her look.

The unmarried girls of the village were set before the recalcitrant. They laughed and shouted at his stubborn folly. The official commanded that he take one, love her and rear a family.

He angrily refused.

“Damn all women!” he exploded.

A chorus of shrill laughter greeted the explosion.

The controller walked sedately before the row of smiling girls, selected one, seized the youth’s hand, placed the girl’s in his and proclaimed them man and wife. He announced their honeymoon of a year’s leisure and sent them to the community house to begin it. Each newly wedded couple were allowed a year’s exemption from any toil.

“So that’s the way it’s done in Peru?” Molina laughed; but his laughter was nervous.

“Yes, Señor,” Yma demurely answered. “If a man will not do his duty, he must be made to do it.”

Her dark eyes held him for the instant, and he felt hot blood suffuse his face.

He turned away and watched moodily, while the crowds gathered everywhere at the doors of the newlyweds. Song and dance and feasting would last for days. The last census had put the population at more than twelve million.

Molina sought the controller and asked at length of their marriage customs. He was curious about the penalty of death fixed for the crime of incest.

“Is it not strange,” he asked the official, “that you enforce such a law in an empire whose ruler is commanded to marry his sister?”

“Not at all, Señor,” he gravely explained. “We know the dangers of incestuous marriages. The Inca of the South is required to marry his sister that the heir to the throne may ever be the purest strain of royal blood. After the birth of the prince, he no longer lives as the husband of the queen. He has many wives. Neither the common people nor the nobles are permitted this violation of natural laws commanded of the royal family. Huyna Capac, the monarch who divided the kingdom, began a new line of Incas by marrying the Queen of Quito. Atahualpa is his son by the new royal line born of a union without incest. We know that Atahualpa is the better man and Huascar will yet yield the southern kingdom to his brother.”

He had scarcely finished his speech when a royal runner bounded to his side and delivered a _quipa_ message bearing the imperial seal of Atahualpa.

The official read with frowning brow.

“You have bad news?” Yma asked.

“The worst,” he answered addressing Molina. “Civil war!--the first our empire has ever known. But it had to come. Atahualpa is marching on Cuzco and bids you join his camp at once. He asks your aid against Huascar.”

To the courier who bore the message of war, Molina said:

“Tell your monarch that I obey his summons and will join his standard without delay.”

Yma’s face was radiant. She came impulsively to Molina and kissed him on the mouth. In the excitement of the moment he returned it with passionate eagerness, and trembled as the wave of swift warmth overspread him. Yma smiled.

“My glorious god-man will lead his army to victory....”

Rushing his litters with fresh carriers Molina hurried to the camp of the Inca. He tried, feebly, to leave Yma behind, but she refused to seek safety in Quito. In answer to Molina’s protest her voice quivered.

“I am your slave. My place is by your side.”

He did not object. He found the Inca at Ambato, sixty miles from his capital, confronted by an army from the South.

Atahualpa was the idol of his men. He had served in more than one campaign with his illustrious father. The democratic manner of the young ruler had endeared him to his soldiers. In the crisis he found himself surrounded by the ablest officers of the old régime, who had lived at Quito since the death of Huyna Capac.

The Inca called Molina to a council of war with his two generals, Quizquiz and Challcuchima. The strength and position of the enemy were duly reported and Molina advised that they join battle at sunrise.

The scene was set at the foot of the towering peak of Chimborazo. The Spaniard’s blood leaped at the sight of Atahualpa’s host drawn up in line of battle. The strength of their equipment amazed him. Without cavalry, swords or muskets, they still carried weapons, that, used _en masse_, made sure impressive results.

They had developed nearly every weapon known of man before the invention of gunpowder. Only their swords and lances lacked the hard edge of steel. (In this, the sword of the cavalier, wrought by master hands at Toledo, was easily the superior weapon.) Yet as both armies were without steel, the advantage was with neither.

Bows, arrows, lances, darts, battle-axes and slings were ready.

The weapons of the commander were tipped with gold and silver and the gorgeous costumes of the army gave to the scene a festive color. The mass of the soldiers wore the dress of their provinces; and the gay plumage of their local uniforms added to the gala character of the host.

Beneath his gay coloring each soldier wore a close tunic of heavily quilted cotton, strong enough to withstand the thrust of an arrow, dart, or lance, and tough enough to break the force of the hardest stone hurled by the sling.

Each company carried its banner and above all floated the imperial standard with the device of the rainbow, the ensign of the Incas, proclaiming their kinship with sun and sky.

From sunrise to sunset the battle raged. As the sun sank, the army of the South gave way, and their retreat became a rout. Atahualpa swept over the bloody field strewn with the dead.

He pressed his advantage without pause until he reached the gates of the capital town of the province of Canaris, which had sided with his brother. The Inca drew up his army, entered the place in triumph, razed every house to the ground and put the inhabitants to the sword. He sent his army into every district of the offending province and laid the country waste. At length bands of children led by old men and women met him bearing green branches in their hands praying for mercy. But the young conqueror, deaf to all appeals, spared no man capable of bearing arms.

The terror spread by his stern revenge on the treacherous province opened the gates of every city before him for miles. At the roadway leading across the Andes to the hot springs at Caxamalca, the Inca paused, detached a small division of the army, led it across the mountains, and established the imperial headquarters at Caxamalca. The women of his court accompanied the monarch and Molina sent Yma with them. Atahualpa refused the cavalier’s plea to lead a division into battle. But he attached the stranger to the staff of his two generals and asked for his best advice in every council of war.

From Caxamalca, whose approaches were strongly fortified, Atahualpa could advance on Cuzco if his army were victorious, or retreat to Quito if it met defeat.

The main army moved rapidly along the great highway that leads from Quito to Cuzco. They crossed the river Apurimac and were within striking distance of Huascar’s capital before the ruler of the South moved to check the advance. Atahualpa’s priests in the Temple of the Sun consulted the oracles, made sacrifices, read the signs, and advised him to wait.

Meanwhile, advised by his generals of the peril of his capital Huascar raised a levy of recruits with all speed, reënforced his lines and met the invaders on the plains of Quipaypan. The battle ground had been carefully selected by Molina and approved by Quizquiz and Challcuchima. Both armies fought with desperation. Not merely a battle was at stake--an empire was the prize.

Atahualpa’s men were flushed with the victory of Ambato and Huascar’s fought under the personal leadership of their Inca. An hour before sunset the field was piled with heaps of the dead and dying. Huascar’s lines again broke in wild disorder and his army fled. A thousand of his faithful noblemen rallied about his person too late to save him from capture. He was taken prisoner and the victorious generals of the North marched into the capital and occupied it in the name of their emperor, proclaiming him sole ruler of the Kingdom of the Four Corners of the World.

Atahualpa immediately called a meeting of all the nobles in Cuzco to advise with him on the future of the empire. At this conference the wily young Inca, now supreme, arrested the ringleaders who had urged his brother to war and executed them.

His triumph was now complete, and he had taken steps to insure a future peace. Huascar, the weakling, he sent to the fortress at Xauxa to be held pending his abdication of the throne.

While still celebrating his triumph in Cuzco and preparing the capital for his formal entry with the Queen and Dowager Mother, a royal courier dashed into the palace and proclaimed:

“The strange white men, carrying thunderbolts, and with queer animals, which they ride, have again landed at Tumbez!”

The Inca left his ablest general, Challcuchima in command of Cuzco, surrounded himself with a strong guard, and hurried to his headquarters at Caxamalca. From Molina he carefully guarded this news, carrying him in his train a virtual prisoner.

Riding in his litter, Atahualpa remembered the prophecy made to his father and wondered. Evening came, and he looked at the battlements of the Andes, towering in the quiet hush of day. Beyond them the sun was setting. Its rays struck the eternal snows of the peaks, and the snows became as blood.