Francisco Pizarro, however, had no thoughts whatsoever of retiring. Having just allotted himself seven times the amount of gold and silver of a horseman in addition to awarding himself as a present the golden throne that Atahualpa had been traveling on the day of his capture (which itself weighed 183 pounds), Pizarro had come to Peru not to retire but in order to create a feudal kingdom—a kingdom over which he himself would rule. To conquer, control, and administer such a kingdom, however, Pizarro desperately needed conquistadors who, like himself, were willing to become permanent residents. Although Pizarro allowed a few of the married conquistadors to leave immediately after the distribution of the treasure, he ordered the rest to remain in Peru, at least until the conquest was complete.
One of those slated to leave was Pizarro’s thirty-two-year-old brother, Hernando, whom Pizarro now charged with the task of shepherding roughly half of the king’s “royal fifth” back to Spain. Pizarro trusted no one else to transport the king’s profits—the 20 percent standard cut that was the price all conquistadors paid if they wanted to carry out plunder in the New World with the blessing of a royal license. From this one massive gathering of precious metals in Cajamarca, and with little more effort on their part than signing a few royal documents, the king and queen of Spain received 5,200 pounds of Inca silver and 2,600 pounds of Inca gold.
As Hernando Pizarro and the small group of departing Spaniards prepared to leave, many of the conquistadors who were staying behind hurriedly wrote letters to send with them. The only surviving letter from that group was written by one of Francisco Pizarro’s pages, Gaspar de Gárate, a young Basque in his early twenties from northern Spain. Like his compatriots, Gaspar was eager to relate to his family the surprising news of his recent good fortune.
To my sorely missed father,
It must be about three years ago that I got a letter from you, in which you asked me to send some money. God knows how sorry I was not to have anything to send you then, because if I had anything then there wouldn’t have been any need for you to write; I’ve always tried to do the right thing, but there wasn’t any possibility till now….
I’m sending you two-hundred-and-thirteen pesos [2.1 pounds] of good gold in a bar with an honorable man from San Sebastian; in Seville he’ll have it turned into coin and then bring it to you. I’d send you more except he’s taking money for other people too and couldn’t take more. His name is Pedro de Anadel, I know him, and he’s the kind of person who will get the money to you, so that’s why I asked him to do me a favor and take you the money….
I’ll tell you something of my life since I came to these parts; you must know how … we got news of how Governor Francisco Pizarro was coming to be governor of this Kingdom of New Castile [Peru] and so, hearing this news and having few prospects in Nicaragua, we came to this district, where there’s more gold and silver than iron in Biscay and more sheep [llamas] than in [the province of] Soria, and great supplies of all kinds of provisions and fine clothing and lords among them; one of them rules over five hundred leagues [1,750 miles]. We have him [Atahualpa] in our power and, with him prisoner, a man can go by himself five hundred leagues without getting killed; instead they give you whatever you need and carry you on their shoulders in a litter.
We took this lord by a miracle of God because our forces wouldn’t be enough to take him nor to do what we did, but God gave us the victory miraculously over him and his forces. You must know that we came here with Governor Francisco Pizarro to the land of this lord where he had sixty thousand warriors, and there were one-hundred-and-sixty [sic] Spaniards with the Governor, and we thought our lives were finished because there was such a horde of them, and even the [native] women were making fun of us and saying they were sorry for us because we were going to get killed; but afterward their bad thoughts turned out the opposite….
Give my greetings to Catalina and my brothers and sisters and my uncle … and his daughters, especially the older one … and also to my cousins … and all the rest of my relatives … I really want you to tell them hello for me and to tell them that I greatly wish to see them, and pleasing God I’ll be there soon … the only thing I want to ask you is to do good for the souls of my mother and all my relatives and, if God lets me get there, I’ll do it very thoroughly myself. There is nothing more to write at present except that I’m praying to our Lord Jesus Christ to let me see you before I die.
From Cajamarca, in the Kingdom of New Castile, July 20, 1533.
Your son …,
Gaspar….
One can certainly imagine how this letter was read and reread by the writer’s family, how it was passed around, unfolded and refolded carefully, circulating among the many family members, relatives, and friends, and how excerpts were undoubtedly also read aloud to interested visitors, eager as everyone was to learn of the miraculous adventures occurring on the distant fringes of the known world. This particular letter writer, however, who had left for the Indies in his teens, would never see his family or home again. Only four months after handing the bar of Inca gold and the letter to his friend, Gaspar would be killed in battle in Peru. It would take at least another year before the news of his misfortune would reach his family.
As the last gold and silver bars were being distributed, Atahualpa no doubt watched the unfolding events with a growing sense of despair. When he learned that Hernando Pizarro was departing for Spain, in fact, he had apparently sunk even further into his gloom. Hernando had been Atahualpa’s best ally among the Spaniards, a man he had often played chess with and whom he had clearly befriended. The big, bearded, arrogant Pizarro brother was also a powerful influence in the camp, having served as Francisco’s right-hand man thus far during the campaign.
When Hernando rode out of camp, therefore, leading a pack train of llamas that was carrying the king’s treasure, Atahualpa “wept, saying that they would kill him since Hernando Pizarro was leaving.” Years later, Hernando would tell the king that Atahualpa had actually begged Hernando to take him with him to Spain. If he didn’t, Atahualpa had assured him, then “this fat man (meaning the [royal] treasurer [Alonso Riquelme]) and this one-eyed man (meaning Don Diego de Almagro) will kill me when you leave.” If Atahualpa did indeed say this to Hernando, then it was a prescient thought. Obviously, the Inca emperor didn’t like the hungry, penetrating look in Almagro’s single eye. With the gold and silver already delivered as promised, yet with new Spaniards in town and his freedom nowhere to be seen, Atahualpa must have realized that Pizarro had lied to him. Pizarro, after all, had promised Atahualpa that he would restore him to power in Quito. Now, however, all Atahualpa saw were Spaniards readying their equipment and horses for a march south toward Cuzco. Clearly, Pizarro and his men were planning an expedition of conquest—a far cry from the triumphal march that Atahualpa had envisaged leading down the Andes in the wake of his brother Huascar’s defeat.
Rumors now begin to swirl in the city that Atahualpa had actually sent secret orders to his northern army to rescue him, since it was now obvious to all that the Spaniards had no intention of fulfilling their side of the bargain. A local chief even told Pizarro that Atahualpa’s northern army was already marching on its way south,
and that all these men are marching under a great commander called Lluminabe [Rumiñavi] and are very close to here. They will come by night and will attack this camp, setting it entirely on fire. The first person they will attempt to kill will be you and they will release their lord Atahualpa from his prison. Two hundred thousand warriors are marching from Quito along with thirty thousand Caribs, who eat human flesh.
Pizarro immediately ordered that a permanent guard be mounted around the city and then went to confront Atahualpa with the incriminating information. “What kind of treason is this that you have prepared for me?” Pizarro angrily demanded. “After having treated you … like a brother, and having trusted in your words?” Pizarro had obviously missed the fact that it was hardly treasonous to want to escape from your kidnappers, especially if
your kidnappers had agreed to a bargain that they now refused to honor.
“Are you joking?” Atahualpa had replied, trying at first to make light of Pizarro’s accusation. ”You’re always telling me jokes. What reason would my men or I have of troubling men as brave as you? Stop telling me jokes!” When Pizarro replied that this was no joking matter and that if the rumors were true that Pizarro would kill him, Atahualpa attempted to reason with his captors, among whom paranoia was currently spreading as fast as an exploding contagion.
“It is true that if any warriors were coming they would be marching here from Quito on my orders,” Atahualpa replied calmly. “Find out whether it is true. And if true, you have me in your power and can execute me!” Wrote one eyewitness:
[He said] all of this without betraying any sign of anxiety. And he said many other brilliant things that a quick-witted man [would make] during the period after his capture. The Spaniards who heard them were amazed to see so much wisdom in a barbarian.
Atahualpa’s arguments did him little good, however, for Pizarro, not wanting to take any chances, now ordered that a chain be fastened around Atahualpa’s neck to prevent the emperor from escaping. Pizarro next called for a meeting of his top commanders to discuss Atahualpa’s fate.
While the rank-and-file Spaniards waited nervously in the city, scanning the hills for signs of an approaching army, a handful of their leaders now debated what to do with the captive Inca king. The makeshift jury included the corpulent royal treasurer, Alonso Riquelme; the Dominican friar, Vincente de Valverde—whose mistreated breviary had set off the massacre eight months before; Almagro; Francisco Pizarro; and a few others. Almagro, Riquelme, and several other captains wanted to execute the Inca emperor immediately, believing that once Atahualpa was dead, it would be easier to pacify the country. Pizarro and another group of captains, on the other hand, were in favor of keeping Atahualpa alive. They had been able to rule the country through Atahualpa for eight months, after all—so why couldn’t they continue? And who knew how the natives might react if their lord suddenly turned up dead? The entire country might rise up against them.
Like a hung jury, the Spaniards were unable to agree on whether Atahualpa had been sending out secret messages or had been telling the truth. They thus couldn’t agree on whether they should execute the Inca lord or spare his life. In order to address their most immediate threat, Pizarro decided to send Hernando de Soto with four horsemen to ride north and investigate. If they found no native army, then it was possible that Atahualpa had been telling the truth. If, on the other hand, they found an army, then one thing was certain: before the Spaniards lost their lives, Atahualpa would surely lose his own.
After Soto and his men had galloped off, the rest of the Spaniards were forced to wait nervously. Some fingered their ingots of gold and dreamed of what they would do with them if they survived this adventure and made it back to Spain. Others no doubt read well-thumbed, contraband novels of chivalrous adventures, such as Amadis of Gaul.* A few scribbled or dictated letters to their friends or family, hoping to send them home one day. Pizarro and his captains, meanwhile, were unanimously agreed upon one point: their next step was to march south and then seize Cuzco, the capital of the empire and the wealthiest and grandest of its cities.
But with Cuzco lying some six hundred miles to the south and the Inca road leading there apparently crossing over some of the roughest terrain in the world, Pizarro and his captains worried that they would be unable to prevent Atahualpa from being rescued by Inca troops during their journey. Their isolated Spanish force would be much more vulnerable while traveling, and they would inevitably find themselves exposed amid unknown terrain. According to the three Spaniards who had helped to loot Cuzco, in fact, there were probably a thousand places where Pizarro’s force could be successfully ambushed along the way. If Atahualpa were rescued by his troops, then surely the emperor would quickly galvanize the entire country to rise up against them.
That evening, after dinner, Pizarro and some of his captains began to play cards. The group of nouveaux riches undoubtedly bet quantities of gold and silver and generally enjoyed themselves. Suddenly, however, the door to the room burst violently open and a Spaniard rushed in, dragging a reluctant native behind him. The Spaniard, a Basque seaman named Pedro de Anadel, was one of the original conquerors of Nicaragua. The native accompanying him was one of his Nicaraguan servants, not a native from Peru. Nevertheless, Anadel rather breathlessly told the dinner party that his servant had recently journeyed outside Cajamarca and had seen a massive Inca army advancing toward the city, only eleven miles away.
Pizarro rose and began questioning the servant, who presumably spoke basic Spanish. After the servant described in great detail what he had seen, it soon became apparent that a native army was definitely on the move. Everyone in the room now became agitated, especially Almagro, who had been urging Pizarro to execute Atahualpa ever since the first rumors of the emperor’s presumed treachery had surfaced. A chastened Pizarro quickly sent word to his men to prepare themselves for battle; he also ordered an immediate meeting to plan their strategy and to debate Atahualpa’s fate anew. By now, however, the tide in support of Atahualpa had unmistakably turned. With the sudden and frightening threat of an impending attack, it didn’t take long for those gathered to make a quick decision. “Insisting vehemently on his death, Captain Almagro … [gave] … many reasons why he should die,” one eyewitness remembered. The obese royal treasurer, Riquelme, now sided with Almagro, urging that the emperor be quickly executed before the massing native forces could attack, thus fulfilling Atahualpa’s own prophecy.
When a final vote was taken, all those in attendance voted that Atahualpa should die, the last one to do so being a reluctant Pizarro, who found himself no longer able to support his earlier view that they were better off with Atahualpa alive. An entire native army could not be marching against them without Atahualpa having ordered it, Pizarro no doubt reasoned. And since Atahualpa had thus committed treason—at least to the Spaniards’ way of thinking—Pizarro finally gave the order that the Inca emperor “should die by burning unless he converted to Christianity.”
The son of Huayna Capac—who had fought to gain the Inca throne for years before the Spaniards had arrived and who had had little compunction in killing his own brother to possess it—was quickly informed of the Spaniards’ decision. Not surprisingly, Atahualpa was devastated by the news. “Atahualpa wept [openly] and said that they shouldn’t kill him,” recalled Pedro Pizarro, “for there wasn’t one Indian in the country who would make trouble without his command. And since they had him prisoner,” Atahualpa said, “what were they afraid of?” After trying with no success to convince his captors that his empire would devolve into chaos if he were executed, Atahualpa now tried a last-ditch effort to save his life. “If they were going to do it [kill him] for gold or silver,” Atahualpa said, no doubt looking into his captors’ eyes in order to gauge their reaction, “then he would give them twice what he had already commanded.” The emperor’s last-minute offer didn’t even seem to register on the Spaniards this time, however, and Atahualpa noticed anxiously that Pizarro had difficulty even looking at him.
“I saw the Governor weep from sorrow at being unable to grant him [his] life,” remembered Pedro Pizarro, “[but] … he feared the consequences and risks to the country if he were released.” Pizarro, however, along with the rest of the Spanish leaders in camp, was now convinced about one thing: if a native army were less than eleven miles outside of town, then that army could launch an attack this very evening. Thus, in terms of keeping their hostage from falling into enemy hands, there was no time to lose. Atahualpa’s life had to be ended immediately.
The sun was beginning to set on Saturday, July 26, 1533, as a group of Spaniards led the emperor of the four suyus to the main square, the same square where he had been captured the previous November. Always sticklers for formality, the Spaniards sounded the trumpet and began reading out loud the charge
s against the emperor. Atahualpa, meanwhile, was tied to a stake that had just been impaled into the ground. Apparently either because what was happening was so obvious or else because one or more of the interpreters had informed them, some of the local townspeople had gathered to watch. For the ordinary native inhabitant, watching the Spaniards prepare for the execution of their lord and god was as frightening as knowing that the sun was about to disappear—and that their world was about to be upended. For a Spaniard, the only thing similar would have been to witness Christ being led to the crucifixion at Golgotha.
The Incas, after all, believed that history was a succession of ages divided from one another by a cataclysmic event, a pachacuti, or an “overturning of the world.” The first pachacuti had begun with the formation of the Inca Empire itself. Now, as the natives watched their lord Atahualpa being tied to a stake, many feared that a second grand pachacuti was about to begin. “When he [Atahualpa] was taken out to be killed,” remembered Pedro Pizarro, “all the native people who were on the square, and there were many, prostrated themselves on the ground, letting themselves fall to the earth like drunken men.”
The Last Days of the Incas Page 15
