by John McCuaig
He explained to them that Atahualpa had ultimately been the reason Supay’s army rose to slaughter and enslave their people. He told them that his brother had gotten just what he deserved. A new King stood before them this day, ready to free the people and rebuild their empire.
Minco stood motionless, somehow frozen in place. The shock of seeing his king’s death was nearly the undoing of his sanity. Then he realised that Yupanqui was shouting directly at him.
“Protector! Do you hear me? Do you realise your duty? You are pledged to protect me at all costs, even with your own life.” He reached down, removed the crown from his dead brother’s brow, and placed it on his own head.
“Do I have your word that you will follow me?” he asked.
Minco did not know what to do. His mind raced as he tried to understand what had just happened. Through his peripheral vision, he saw the rest of the palace guards draw closer. For the moment, all he could do was just nod towards Yupanqui.
The king’s remaining bodyguards lowered their weapons to their sides. They fell to their knees and bowed their heads as one, pledging their servitude. They would always serve the King, whoever he may be.
Pizarro placed his hand on the new King’s shoulder. “Well done, my friend. You have begun a new, wondrous chapter for your people.” He deliberately made eye contact with Minco, all but taunting him with his words. “Together, we shall rebuild your cities, and build a more powerful army so that never again shall your enemies threaten you.”
Minco knew that Pizarro was no longer interested in just a couple of ships full of gold. Now, he would have the whole empire for himself. He would be able to control Yupanqui with ease. The king’s weak willed brother would be no more than a marionette whose strings were dangled in Pizarro’s hands. The new king meant nothing. The true leader of the Incans was now this Spaniard.
Yupanqui began a long, droning speech to the court. Minco already knew the plan would be to rebuild the empire but he had not expected it to be done under a new king. As he looked down at the abandoned body of Atahualpa, a solitary tear ran down his face.
A great man and a true friend, Minco’s king had been left to bleed out on the stone floor like a pig. No matter what Yupanqui said or who he thought he was, Minco knew he could not let this charade continue. As everyone listened to the new king’s speech, Minco drew his axe. He whispered a goodbye to his Inguill, for he understood that once he struck down the king, his personal guards would have no choice but to kill him. He had already decided his death would be worth the cause and that Inguill would have approved.
Unfortunately, Pizarro had been watching his every move.
“Take him,” Pizarro shouted to Yupanqui and his guards, pointing over to Minco. “Look, he has his weapon ready to strike you down, my majesty. You will never be able to trust him. He will never follow your rule.” Pizarro drew his own sword, still shouting at the King. “Kill him before he can strike.”
The new King gave his guards the order. Minco stood shocked, listening to the words that would herald his own death. The soldiers themselves were also taken aback at this request and hesitated for a moment. Minco was their leader, the head of all the armies of Cuzco, the protector of the people, and now they were being told to kill him.
Minco did not give them time to choose where their allegiance lay. He raised his axe and threw it at the traitor Pizarro with all of his might. The sizeable distance between them gave the Spaniard a little time to react, but he was still not quite quick enough. The spinning bronze blade struck him a glancing blow on the shoulder. The impact sent him sprawling on the floor.
Yupanqui screamed at his men in a fit of anger. “Kill him! Kill him now!”
But Minco was already on the move and heading for the door as he shoulder charged his way past the solitary guard who’d been placed there. Then he was out and running fast into the still quiet streets of his city.
Yupanqui bent over and checked on the condition of his new partner. “Spaniard,” he said as he pulled the man around to have a good look at his wounds. “My friend, are you hurt badly?”
Pizarro looked down at the angry gash running across the length of his deltoid muscle. The arm itself was nearly useless. “Damn it, I must be getting old,” he said and grimaced with the pain. “A few years ago, he’d have never gotten that close.” He took the hand the king offered and hoisted himself to his feet. “I need to get after him.” He looked around the chamber for his own men.
“There is no need,” the King said. “My guards and some of your men are already out on the hunt.” He looked again at the blood soaked wound on the Spaniard. “Please...leave it to them. They will soon catch the traitor. For now, I will call the doctor to tend to your arm.”
Pizarro nodded his acquiescence. “Very well,” he said, looking around at their luxurious surroundings and the gold that adorned it as if it was for the first time. “We have much to discuss anyway, my friend. There are many things that need to be agreed.”
He started towards a pile of luxurious cushions, intent on sprawling there until his wound was tended to, but stopped as a new thought rushed through his head. His eyes grew wide as he spun on his heels to face Yupanqui again. “You have to send some men over to the temple,” he blurted, angry with himself at his mistake. “We must get to his woman before he does. Tell them to bring her back here.”
The King did just as he was ordered. He sent the last six guards that remained in the palace to get the High Priestess, Inguill. They were to bring her to him, whether she resisted or not. The new monarch sat proudly in his plush throne, watching Pizarro. It almost seemed that he looked to the Spaniard for his next order to arrive.
Obviously, Pizarro recognised this too.
*****
Once again, Minco was being chased but this time, he was not heading for the gates of a city, and he headed for the temple, to collect his Inguill. His route was not direct- he had to lose the soldiers that were chasing him first. As he raced through the streets, he lost his pursuers and a few minutes later, he arrived at the temple. He pulled up short at the corner of a building adjacent to the temple, realising that he was already too late.
He watched with clenched teeth as some of the palace guards grabbed the violently struggling Inguill and held tight as they pulled her down the steps. She screamed and cursed, hurling insults and threats at them. He was about to attempt a rescue when he heard the other soldiers calling out behind him.
“There he is!” One of the Spanish voices bawled. “Kill him! Don’t let him escape us again.”
Minco judged the distance between himself and the men that were rushing towards him. The other soldiers, having heard their comrades call, already surrounded Inguill. He felt his heart drop, as he knew that he could never survive against such odds.
“I will come back for you,” he shouted. “Be brave, my love.” With those parting words, Minco sprinted down the roadway with the guards still behind him.
*****
Pizarro grimaced as the nervous looking Incan woman rubbed a pungent green mush deep into his wound. The smell was filling his nostrils and it was almost as unbearable as the pain. But he soon forgot his discomfort when he saw Inguill being dragged by her arms into the Kings chamber. He pushed the young woman away from his arm and rose to meet the High Priestess.
“Well my dear,” he sneered at her. “It seems things have changed a little since last we met.” He looked around the vast room. “A new King sits on the throne and your lover, Minco, will soon be dead.”
“You will burn in hell for all eternity,” Inguill seethed at him. She looked down in horror at the pool of dried blood on the floor. “Our gods will reward you with never ending pain for your foul deeds.”
“You may be right,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “But before that happens, Yupanqui and I will rebuild this empire and make it far more powerful than it has ever been before. This, young lady, is the start of a new world order.”
Inguill looked in disgust at the new king sitting silently on his elegant throne. He was clearly happy to let the Spaniard do all of the talking. All Yupanqui had done since she arrived was to adjust the golden crown on his brow. She thought that perhaps just having the title of monarch was enough for him.
“Now, my dear,” Pizarro continued. “I’ll likely kill you soon but first, you and I need to have a little chat.” He collected a small leather bag from beside his cushions. “Here, there is something that I must show you.”
*****
With only his truncheon left, Minco knew he needed to rearm himself. That would be no issue. Amidst the remains in the street, there were plenty of axes and swords to be found. Soon, he found a bronze axe nearly identical to the one he always carried.
He had to leave the city, though he was loathed to leave Inguill in close quarters with Pizarro and the new false king. But for the moment, he had neither the strength to fight nor the odds to win. He kept on running, whispering a prayer for Inguill’s safety. He also promised that one day he would return.
*****
As soldiers from all over the empire came to Cuzco to help with the funeral pyres, the rebuilding and the restoration of order, they were met by the Spaniard Pizarro at the gates. He informed them all that Cuzco had a new Protector. The king had given the position to Pizarro himself.
As easy as that, Pizarro had been placed in charge of the combined armies of the Incan Empire. There was resentment to his title on the faces of the newcomers but that did not worry Pizarro. He knew very well how loyal the Incans were to their king. If they were prepared to lie down and die for him, then the order to follow a stranger’s word would be accepted without question.
And his first order was not what they might have expected. It was not to help with disposing of the rotting bodies or fixing their shattered defences. Instead, they were to go into the jungle, into the hills and mountains, to find and kill the man called Minco, the previous Protector. They were not to capture or return him to Cuzco; they were to kill him on sight.
*****
Minco watched from on top of a tree deep in the jungle as close to a thousand soldiers exited the gates of the city and split up into a number of various directions. He knew immediately what, or rather who, they were going after, but instead of running away or hiding somewhere, there was one thing he needed to do first.
*****
A group of four young Incan soldiers made their way along the barely visible jungle path. Their eyes darted back and forth looking into the thick foliage. However, it was not just the search for a fugitive that made one of them worry.
“Are you sure that they’re all dead?” One of them said to another who was walking right alongside him. “What if there’s still a few of them out here?”
“No need to worry about that, Gian,” he said. “They told us they were all gone, they wouldn’t send us out here if there was.” His friend however did not seem that reassured by his answer.
“Did you ever meet this man, Minco?” the first one said. “I wonder why he raised the undead soldiers. What do you think he was trying to do?” All the time his eyes still kept peering into the jungle.
“Yes, it was just the once,” he replied. “He seemed like a good, honest soldier. I also know a couple of men who served under him; they’d nothing but good things to say. I’ve got no idea what went wrong with him. Perhaps he just went mad.” He then stopped dead in his tracks and turned to his colleague. “Can I ask you one small favour?”
His fellow soldier stopped too, turned, and nodded.
“Just shut the hell up for a while!” The soldier almost spat in his face. “Keep the damn noise down or we’ll never find anything out here!” he then spun around and continued on his march.
The first soldier chuckled to himself and was about to speed up and join the others before the truncheon landed on the back of his head. Knocked unconscious he fell down into a bush and disappeared from sight. The other three soldiers did not hear or see this attack, for they were already too far ahead. They also did not see the warrior Minco as he silently set off after them.
Minco did not need to thin them down any further, he was more than confident in his ability to beat three such young soldiers, they were still only in their teens, only raw recruits. He caught up with them in a matter of seconds.
The first of them fell to the ground before they even knew he was there, his truncheon once again used at less than full force. It was more than enough to put him down but Minco also knew he would rise again in a couple of hours. Alive, and no doubt with a damn sore head, but at least they would still be alive.
The next soldier tried an attack but it failed, his youthful enthusiasm sending him flying past the battle-hardened master. Whack. Once again, a body lay motionless on the jungle floor.
“Wait,” Minco shouted to the last of the soldiers just as he prepared to attack. “Hold on for a minute, I just want to have a talk with you, boy.”
“You are a traitor,” the shaking young man called back. “We are under orders to kill you; your fate has already been decreed by the King.” As he held his axe and truncheon high, Minco looked into his eyes and saw that this boy was more than prepared to die for his cause.
“I heard you saying that we had met before,” Minco said in a soft voice. “From that meeting do you think that I’m capable of what they say?”
The soldier looked a bit puzzled at first that this fugitive had heard what he had said, but then he shouted back. “I don’t care about that, I only follow my orders.”
Minco sighed. “Very well,” he said as he took out his own axe. “But before we fight can you at least answer a question please? What has happened to the High Priestess Inguill? Where is the Spaniard keeping her?”
The young man laughed aloud. “I heard he killed her, cut her throat like a goat. She was a traitor and she deserved to die, just like you will now!” He then spat on the ground and charged at his target.
Minco took his anger out on the onrushing soldier. As his mind pictured the death of his love, his weapons slashed and walloped at the challenge he faced. It was like he was back facing the beasts again, and once more a head was separated from its body. This young man would not be like his friends, he would not be rising again.
With a heavy heart, Minco looked down at the motionless bodies before he set off into the deep jungle. He looked to the east at the distant snow-capped mountains and decided he was going to have to head there. He would need to get some distance between himself and the search parties. As he trudged through the jungle, he knew it would be a long time before he could safely return to the city, but he swore that no matter what, one day he would.
Pizarro would then face his end.
22- The Search for Revenge
Nearly a year had passed since the new king had stolen the throne in Cuzco. Pizarro sat watching the city from his gold encrusted balcony, looking out over the land that he had since conquered. He may have not been the King of Inca in name but he certainly pulled the puppet kings strings. All of the important decisions regarding the Empire had to go through him. Almost every day messengers came from Cuzco with new laws to approve and trade agreements to sign.
He had stayed in the capital for a little while after his coup but he preferred to be the man in charge. It stuck like a fish bone in his throat to have to pretend to anyone that the King was the leader, that a common savage could be any more important than he could. So he quickly designed his own palace, and built it as far away from any other settlements as he possibly could.
Around him, he kept his own personal guard, twenty faithful Incans and five of the Spaniards he had left. The remainder of his men were already rewarded with small towns and villages of their own to look after, a true gift of power from their leader. He also gave himself every luxury. He also had an army of servants on hand to do all of his cooking and cleaning, all of whom were young and beautiful girls. And each of them was handpicked by Pizarro himself.
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br /> However, this morning his palace was going to get a visitor that they were not expecting.
*****
The solitary guard that was stationed down by the gates to Pizarro’s compound was not feeling too good. He had indulged in more than his fair share of chicha the night before in the mess hall and besides already having a thunderous headache his lieutenant had given him a mouthful of abuse a couple of hours earlier when he had smelt his alcohol heavy breath. A month of extra guard duty was to be his punishment, and this news did not do anything to improve the man’s mood.
As the soldier tightly closed his eyes to shield them from the searing pain caused by the bright morning sun, Minco took his chance to approach.
The guard never got a chance even to attempt to defend himself from the silent attack. One hand covered his nose and mouth from behind while the other drew a golden blade quickly across his neck. For the those last couple of seconds of his life the soldier could only watch as his life blood sprayed out in front of him. Soon enough his eyes shut once more, this time never to open again.
Minco dragged the limp body into a thick section of the jungle and away out of sight. Kneeling down out of view of the roadway, he took some time to say a few prayers to the Gods, for not only the man he had just killed, but also for himself, for he had taken yet another Incan life. He had already braced himself a long time ago that he may end up in hell for his sins but for now there was only one thing on his mind- and that was to take his revenge. He had waited a long time for this day to arrive but now he was ready, and nothing was going to get in his way.
Once he was inside the compound Minco found that getting close to Pizarro was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought. The guards were spaced out evenly and most of them had a good view of each other; the Spaniard had obviously trained them well. However, not even this problem was going to stop Minco in his quest. He thought about waiting for the hours of darkness to come but he soon realised the guard he had disposed of at the gates would probably be found missing long before then. If that happened, then the security around Pizarro would get even tighter and his already slim chance of success would be gone forever. He quickly decided it would have to be now or never.