The discovery only heightened the nervousness of Pizarro’s men, who had already seen evidence of cannibalism and human sacrifice. In an age when witchcraft was common in their native hamlets and villages, such bizarre manifestations did little to relieve their growing fear. Nothing, it seemed, could raise their spirits, not even the arrival of a provision ship from Nicaragua, bringing a further twenty volunteers. Pedro de Candía, who at Trujillo had openly boasted of the great riches he alone had seen beyond Túmbez, now became the butt of ridicule: for no gold was to be found. Not even Pizarro’s discovery of a note purportedly written by one of the unfortunate men he had left behind on his last voyage, claiming that the land possessed more gold and silver than all the iron of Biscay, lessened their hostility and ill-feeling, or their sense of desolation.
Pizarro had already pardoned his treasurer Alonso de Riquelme for attempting to flee on one of the provision ships. It was the last act of clemency his men would witness. Shortly before leaving the settlement Pizarro ordered the executions of thirteen caciques who had been captured in the vicinity of Túmbez, and who had refused to assist him in transporting his men on to the mainland. They were garrotted and burnt before the entire encampment in reprisal for the deaths of two of his conquistadores. It was as much a demonstration to his own men as to the natives of the coast.
Once more the small contingent of men struck out into the endless swamp and equatorial forest, their leather and steel-coated armour soaked by their sweat, and their bodies burnt by a relentless sun; the slaves and women carrying on their heads the provisions and tents; their horses in the mangroves falling prey to the caymans, their bodies dragged down into the depths of the water pools marked by their blood. Each day their difficulties mounted as they searched desperately for food and fresh water, and struggled against the debilitating effects of the fevers and dysentery from which most of them suffered. It took them almost two months to reach the southern coastal lands of Tangarara, a distance of almost a hundred miles. There Pizarro founded the settlement of San Miguel, in honour of the Archangel St Michael, where he gave orders that the women and the sickly were to remain. Among them was his page Pedro Pizarro.
On 24 September, sixty-two horsemen and one hundred and six foot soldiers with Pizarro at their head left the settlement with some hundred slaves. Their march took them across 70 miles of treeless desert until they reached the village of Serrán. Here, Pizarro again heard reports from the local tribesmen that much of the northern coastal region had surrendered to the armies of the Inca Atahualpa. In order to clarify the situation Pizarro ordered Soto and a squadron of horse to ride inland to Cajas. After riding for two days and a night, stopping only for food and to rest their horses, Soto’s forty horsemen finally reached the township. There they made contact with its cacique, and one of the Inca warrior chiefs, who had some two thousand men under his command. Diego de Trujillo and Cristóbal de Mena, who accompanied Soto, left an account of their journey:
The township was greatly destroyed because of the war and many Indians could be seen hung from the buildings. The Captain [Soto] sent for the cacique of the township and soon he came, complaining bitterly about Atahualpa, and how his warriors had killed so many of his people, some ten or twelve thousand, and that no more than three thousand were left. And he said he had no gold, for Atahualpa’s warriors had taken it all; even though he gave us four or five bars of mined gold.
It was then one of Atahualpa’s lords came: and the cacique was greatly frightened, and he stood up in his presence, but the Captain made him sit beside him. This lord had brought us a present from Atahualpa of stuffed ducks: and which made us imagine a similar fate; he also brought us two small fortresses made of clay, saying that there were many such as them in his land. There were three houses of women, called mamaconas, virgins of the sun. And as we entered their houses and took the women into the square, some five hundred of them, the Captain gave many of them to us Spaniards, something which greatly infuriated the Inca lord, who said: ‘How dare you do this? With Atahualpa only twenty leagues from here? Not one of you will be left alive.’16
There is not one description by an eyewitness of the mass rape of the mamaconas by Soto’s men; it is recorded only that Soto ordered his harquebusiers to fire into the air, causing the trembling women to fall to their knees for fear of being killed. Cajas offered the Spaniards the first real indication of the grandeur of the empire they had come to conquer: its streets and buildings, though gutted and burnt, were built of stone and laid out in an orderly and geometric manner, with the large square and temple forming a central point. The rich dress and evident authority of the Inca lord were a far cry from the primitive clothing of the caciques of the coastal region, whose villages were constructed of wood and mud.
Having inspected the neighbouring village of Huancabamba, which also possessed fine stone buildings, Soto led his men back to Serrán, taking with him the Inca lord and the women. The booty from Cajas and the rich clothing they had also found, woven with gold thread and decorated with plumes, prompted Soto’s horseman Diego de Gavilán to note that ‘great merriment was had by all, for the Adelantado [Soto] declared he had discovered a land as rich as Castile!’17 After meeting Pizarro, who presented him with a lace shirt and some Venetian glass, the Inca lord left the camp, taking Pizarro’s message of friendship to his master Atahualpa. He left behind a number of guides to lead the Spaniards to Atahualpa’s encampment in the valley of Cajamarca.
In early October the conquistadores broke camp and began their march into the Andes, the foothills of which they reached in the first week of November. The horseman Mena recorded:
We were only to find the roads destroyed, also their villages, whose caciques had fled; and as we approached the mountains Hernando Pizarro and Hernando de Soto went on ahead with some men, swimming across a great river [the Saña], for we had been told that in a village beyond we would find much treasure.
Before we reached the village we captured two Indians in order to get information about Atahualpa: the Captain [Soto] ordered them tied to two poles, for they were scared and would not speak; one of them said he knew nothing of Atahualpa, and the other said he had only left his encampment a few days before, and that he was waiting with many of his people for us in the valley of Cajamarca. He also told us that many warriors were guarding two passes in the mountains ahead, and that for their banner they now used the shirt the Governor had sent Atahualpa: but neither by the torch nor any other inducement did they tell us more.18
The Andalucian López de Jerez, who was Pizarro’s secretary and who accompanied him at all times during the march to Cajamarca, also left a description of their final march:
The Governor travelled for two days through the densely populated valleys, sheltering in the night in the tambos, small fortified lodgings made of mud-brick, and which the caciques informed him were used by Huayna Cápac when he had travelled through the region. Some days later, we crossed a dry desert-like terrain and reached a large and flowing river. There the Governor spent the night, and the next morning he ordered Hernando Pizarro and a few other men who knew how to swim to cross to the villages on the other side of the river and persuade the natives not to oppose our crossing.
Hernando Pizarro swam across without much difficulty, and he was received kindly by the villagers, who gave him one of their lodgings for him to stay. But despite their friendliness he soon realised that the people were abandoning the village and taking their belongings with them. He asked them about Atahualpa, and whether he would receive us peacefully or not, though none of them were willing to answer him, because of their fear, till Hernando Pizarro took hold of one of their caciques and put him to the torture. The man confessed that Atahualpa was making preparations for war, and that he had divided his forces into three squadrons, one of which was at the foot of the mountains ahead, another at its summit and the third squadron at Cajamarca. He also told him that Atahualpa had boasted he would kill every single Christian.
; The following morning Hernando Pizarro sent this news to his brother, who immediately ordered that trees be felled on both banks of the river, so that the men and baggage could be taken across.
Three rafts were built, and in the course of that day all the men were brought over, the horses swimming across. The Governor took a full part in the work, and when everyone had been brought over he himself went across and then to the lodging where his brother was staying. He then sent for one of the caciques and again inquired about Atahualpa’s intentions. The cacique told him that Atahualpa was near Cajamarca with an army of some fifty thousand warriors. On learning this, he imagined that the cacique had been mistaken and he asked how he calculated such numbers. The cacique told him that he counted from one to ten, and from ten to a hundred, then hundreds making a thousand, and five ten thousands the number of men Atahualpa had under his command. The cacique also told him that when Atahualpa had entered his lands he had at first hidden out of fear. And that Atahualpa had killed four to five thousand of his people and taken six hundred women and six hundred boys to be divided among his warriors.
On reaching the foothills of the mountains we rested for a day to prepare for the ascent. The Governor decided to leave behind the rearguard and baggage. Taking forty horsemen and sixty foot soldiers with him, he placed the rest under his brother’s command, whom he instructed to follow at a slower pace. Leading our horses on foot we began our climb. At midday we came to a small fort on top of a mountain: a dangerous place, so steep that in parts it was cut in steps. We climbed this pass without seeing anyone till we reached the fort, a building with a ragged precipice on each side. Here we halted to rest and eat. The cold in the mountains is so intense that our horses, accustomed to the heat of the valleys, caught cold. The Governor sent a message down to those in the rear telling them that they could now climb safely and that they should reach the fort in time to sleep there.
Next morning the Governor pressed on with his men, and halted by a mountain stream in order to give the rearguard time to catch up with him. We made camp in our cotton tents we carried, and lit fires to protect ourselves from the terrible cold of the mountains. Nowhere in Castile is more cold than these great peaks, which are bare and covered with thin grass. There are only a few stunted trees, and the water from its streams is so cold that it gives men a chill to drink it.19
In small groups, and at times reduced to a single file, they began their ascent of the great cordillera, climbing to an altitude of some 13,000 feet above sea level, almost to the very tops of the mountains. Here, for the first time they gazed in wonder at the huge condors that hovered above them, drifting in the changing air currents above the snow-capped peaks. Exhausted by the thinness of the air, some of the men doubtless resorted to chewing the coca leaves their guides carried with them to counter their dizziness and the lack of oxygen. Mile after mile they hauled their frightened horses and mules along the stone trails of the Inca highway; chiselled out of the bare mountainside, at times these trails were no wider than a few feet. Climbing even higher, they crossed the cordillera’s great canyons on the few reed bridges that had survived the Indian fighting. These flimsy structures seemed barely able to take a man’s weight, let alone that of a horse. They inched forward, some of the men crawling on hands and knees, as the bridges swayed thousands of feet above the rivers and ravines far below; only the occasional scream of a man falling to his death pierced the silence. The seemingly endless march deepened their sense of abandonment, but they tried to lift their spirits by praying, led by the blackand-white-robed Dominican Friar Valverde, their voices resounding across the giant snow-clad mountains that seemed to engulf them at every turn. Even the most hardened of the Isthmian veterans had never experienced such wretchedness and the pain of their frostbitten hands and feet, numbed by the bitter cold of the Andean nights, only added to their misery. Finally, after spending almost a week in such conditions, they reached the great valley of Cajamarca, its green and lush pastures enclosed by the cordillera, 8,500 feet above sea level. Here the Inca Emperor Atahualpa was encamped, his tents spread across a distance of two miles at the far end of the valley at whose centre lay an Inca town flanked by four high walls. Within its confines thatched stone and mud-brick buildings lined a central square, which the soldier chronicler Pedro de Cieza de León, who stayed in the town some twenty years later, described as larger than any in Spain, and which was entered through two gateways.
For several hours Atahualpa had awaited their arrival, staring across the valley towards the northern hills and the blackened winter sky. The first indication of their coming was a noise like the recurring drumming of rain, but his scouts told him this was the sound of horses’ hooves; soon he could make out the plumed-helmets of their riders as they moved along in a cloud of dust, their lances sloped across their shoulders. Marching some distance behind them was the tall figure of Pizarro at the head of his foot soldiers; he was accompanied by the Friar Valverde, the large wooden cross he had brought with him from Panama strapped to his mule. It was 15 November 1532, a Friday.
It was six o’clock in the evening and it began to rain, and huge hailstones were falling, forcing the men to shelter in the buildings; then the Governor entered with the infantry, all of whom were much frightened; for we could now count on no other rescue other than from God. Then a messenger arrived from Atahualpa, telling us that he could not come to meet us because he was fasting that day. The Captain Hernando de Soto asked the Governor for permission to go with five or six horsemen and an Indian to speak with Atahualpa; and against his better judgement the Governor agreed to his going, sending Soto ahead.
All the road that led to his camp was paved, and alongside the road were great pools of water, and at the far end of the road was a river, alongside which were the tents of the encampment. Some two crossbow shots from the river bank was a pleasure house, where Atahualpa was fasting. The house was made up of four chambers and had two large baths situated inside a patio, which were supplied with cold and hot water from two pipes and two separate ponds. It was there he bathed with his women. In front of the house was a green meadow.
All the area near the encampment was guarded by squadrons of warriors with lances and archers. We rode through their ranks without any hindrance until we reached the Cacique: seated as he was in front of the door of his lodging, and with many of his women; and then Hernando de Soto rode right up to him, and so close to him was he that his horse’s nose touched his headdress: and not once did the Cacique make a movement. The Captain de Soto then took off a ring from his finger and gave it to him, as a sign of peace and friendship, but which he took with little mark of esteem.
And as he did not return and suspecting that he may have been killed, the Governor ordered Hernando Pizarro to take with him horsemen and foot-soldiers, and I [Trujillo] among them, to discover what had taken place. When we reached his camp we found the Captain de Soto with the men he had taken, and Hernando Pizarro said to him: ‘My lord, what is happening?’ And he replied: ‘As you can see, we are still waiting,’ and then said: ‘Soon Atahualpa will come out’ – who was still in his lodging – ‘but until now he has not.’ Hernando Pizarro shouted at the interpreter: ‘Tell him to come out!’ The man returned and said: ‘Wait, he will see you shortly.’ And Hernando Pizarro said to him: ‘Tell the dog to come out immediately!’ And then Atahualpa came out of his lodging, holding two small gold cups in his hands that were filled with chicha, and gave one to Hernando Pizarro and the other he drank.
After they had drunk one of his women came in and took away the cups. Then all his other women entered and sat beside him. He was seated on a low stool. He wore a sleeveless shirt and a cloak which completely covered him. He had a cord tied round his head and red tassel on his forehead; and when he spat one of his women placed her hand in front of him so that he could spit into it; any of his hair which had fallen on his clothing was gathered by his women and eaten by them. We later learnt that he spat to show his grandeur, and that his fa
llen hairs his women eat so that no one could use them to bewitch him.
And Hernando Pizarro said to the interpreter: ‘Tell Atahualpa that there is no difference in rank between myself and the Captain Soto, for we are both captains of the king, and in his service we have left our homelands to come and instruct him in the Faith.’ And then it was agreed Atahualpa would come the following day, which was a Saturday, to Cajamarca.
Guarding his camp were more than forty thousand Indian warriors in their squadrons, and many principal lords of the land. And, on departing, Hernando de Soto reared the legs of his horse, near to where were positioned the first of these squadrons, and the Indians of the squadrons fled, falling over each other. And when we returned to Cajamarca Atahualpa ordered three hundred of them killed because they had shown fear and fled, and this we discovered another day when we found their bodies.
The following day Atahualpa came with all his people in procession to Cajamarca, and the league they travelled took them until almost an hour before sunset … it was as if the entire valley was in movement … he was carried in a throne chair on the shoulders of his lords … six hundred Indians in white and black livery as if pieces of a chessboard came ahead of him, sweeping the road of stones and branches … wearing headdresses of gold and silver … and the Governor, seeing they were taking such a great time, sent Hernando de Aldana, who spoke their language, to ask him to come before it was too dark. And Aldana spoke to him, and only then did they begin to move at a walking pace.
In Cajamarca there are ten streets that lead from the square, and in each of these the Governor placed eight men, and in some, fewer number, because of the few men we had, and the horsemen he positioned in three companies: one with Hernando Pizarro, one with Hernando de Soto with his own men, and one with Sebastián de Belalcázar with his, and all with bells attached to their bridles, and the Governor positioned himself in the fortress with twenty-four of his guards; for in all we were a hundred and sixty: sixty horsemen and a hundred on foot.
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