The Spaniards seemed bent upon killing the Inca, but his loyal subjects caught hold of the horses' bridles and saddle blankets, and even the legs of their riders to prevent them from hitting the Inca. Some offered their own bodies to the lances—anything to save the king who was stunned and bewildered. As the men who were carrying him were killed, the litter lurched to one side and he fell to the ground. Instantly the imperial borla, or crown, was snatched from his head; his hands were securely tied, and he was hustled, a prisoner, into a building nearby. Then the soldiery robbed and pillaged as much as they pleased, even carrying off the plate from the Inca's table.
Realizing that it was gold that the Spaniards wanted, the Inca began at once to try to buy his freedom.
"I will cover the floor of this room with gold if you will release me," he said, to Pizarro. Seeing that the soldiers smiled at this, he added:
"I will fill the room full, as high as I can reach," standing on tip-toe and stretching his arm against the wall. Pizarro agreed to accept that amount of gold, but demanded double that amount of silver, and would only allow the Inca two months' time to collect it in. The Spaniards kept close watch over him, and as soon as the amount was all paid in, Pizarro accused the unhappy captive of trying to stir up an insurrection. The Inca was surprised and indignant; saying:
"You have me in your power. Is not my life at your disposal? What better security have you for my fidelity? It is very far to my capital at Cuzco, but that you may be satisfied that I am proceeding in good faith, send some of your own people there."
The Spaniards sacked and pillaged Cuzco when they got there, taking seven hundred plates of gold from the walls of the temple dedicated to the Golden Hearted. Besides this, there were heavy cornices of gold, fountains, birds, fruit, vegetables, tables, statues, slabs, basins and panels of pure gold; which, when melted down made millions of dollars.
Never before did anybody in the wide world pay such a ransom. But Pizarro had no intention of setting the Inca free. Pretending to be very suspicious, he suddenly appeared before the Inca, and said:
"What new treason is this you are meditating against me? Me, who has been so brotherly and kind to you?"
"Why do you mock me," replied the Inca. "Am I not a captive in your hands? How could I conceive such a design as you speak of when I would be the first victim? You little know my people, if you think they would attempt such a thing against my will."
Pizarro was determined to get rid of him, so he trumped up twelve charges against him, and, after a mock trial, sentenced the helpless Inca to be burned at the stake.
When told of his fate, the poor king said to Pizarro, with tears streaming down his face:
"What have I, or my children done, that I should die like this? And from your hands—you who have received only benefit and kindness from me and my people."
The doom of the Inca was sounded by trumpet in the same square he had innocently entered to visit his strange white brother, and two hours after sunset he was led out by torch-light and burned to death.
To make sure that there was no danger of an uprising in the distant parts of the country, Pizarro sent an officer to finish collecting the ransom and find out the actual condition. While he was gone Pizarro had the Inca executed. When the officer returned, he said:
"I have met with nothing but kindness on the way. There has never been any attempt at an uprising."
And this was the truth.
The Gilded Man
THERE were none willing to say "God forgive him," is what history tells us of the end of Pizarro, whose throat was cut by some of the men he quarreled with over the treasures they had taken from the Children of the Sun, and I do not believe that any one was ever sorry that he perished like a wretched outcast. Of course, one of his brothers had heard of El Dorado, and he began to inquire closely of the Indians whether there really was such a person.
"Yes, there is," he was told, "and this chief smears himself all over with a sweet-smelling gum and sprinkles his body with fine gold-dust until he looks like a shining statue."
"Where does this chief live?"
"Not far from here, and his people are very rich in gold and emeralds."
This was what the Spaniards wanted to hear, and the Children of the Sun hoped by this means to get rid of their hated conquerors. We remember the visit of the Golden Hearted to the Zipa of the Muscas, and we see, by the unfriendly feeling of their neighbors, that they were still quarrelsome.
"We will go and find the Valley of the Gilded Man," said the brother of Pizarro, to his soldiers, who were getting tired of being idle. "I am told that there are wealthy regions to the north, east, and south of us, where the people go about covered with gold-dust, and where there are no mountains or woods."
This pleased the greedy adventurers very much, and it was not long before there was quite an army of them ready to start. But they did not know that they were going into a country where there were cannibals—savages ready to kill and eat every one of them, and that they fought with poisoned arrows. The Muscas were obliged to fight these people, but they traded with them, because there was no gold in their own land, and they prized it highly as an offering in honor of the Golden Hearted. They had quantities of salt which they pressed into little round cakes, like sugar loaves, and carried over beaten paths to market. Besides this, they wove beautiful cotton cloth, and managed to get large quantities of gold and silver and emeralds by trading with the cannibals.
They had not forgotten what the Golden Hearted taught them about hammering the gold, or casting it into tasteful shapes, and they not only wore it for ornaments, but used it to decorate the outside and inside of their temples. It was near the anniversary of his departure, and there were many pilgrims from neighboring tribes who had come to cast emeralds into the lake at Gautavita in his honor. On the mountain tops surrounding the lake beacon lights were burning, and the sacred fires on the altars in the temples had never been allowed to go out. As each band of pilgrims came into the city, the Zipa welcomed them, saying:
"Tomorrow, comrades, we will go in solemn procession to the lake, and commemorate the departure of Bochica, and his purification afterward. We have made his heart very sad by our misdeeds, but from his home in the sun he can look down upon us, and see that we still adore and worship him."
The next day, at noon a solemn procession approached the lake. In the lead walked bronze-colored men, without any clothing, but whose bodies were covered with red paint, as a sign of deep mourning, and they wailed in a most sorrowful manner. Behind them were warriors decorated with gold and emeralds, wearing bright feathers in their gold head-dresses, and carrying mantles of jaguar skins over their arms. Some of them were singing, while others shouted joyfully or blew on horns and pipes, and conch shells. Close to them were priests in black robes, with white crosses on them, and tall black hats, like those worn by the wise men. In the rear was the Zipa riding in a kind of gilded wheelbarrow hung with disks of gold. His naked body had been anointed with a resinous gum, and covered all over with fine gold-dust.
Arrived at the shore, the Gilded Man and his companions stepped upon a balsa gay with streamers and loaded with flowers, and rowed out into the middle of the lake. There the Zipa, who was the Gilded Man, plunged into the water and washed off all the gold-dust. While he was doing this his companions, with music and singing, threw in the gold and emeralds they had brought out on the lake for that purpose. Coming back to the shore the Zipa said:
"Do no more work for this day, but make merry with singing, dancing and feasting, as if the gentle, kind Bochica were with you again."
All this time Pizarro's brother, and his greedy soldiers, were wandering around in the mountains trying to find the Gilded Man. If they could have seen him covered with gold at the festival, they would probably have tried to skin him alive to get the gold dust on his body. One of the padres, who came to convert and teach the natives, writing to the king of Spain, said:
"I do not believe that the men taking part in the expeditions in search of the Gilded Man, would have tried so hard to get into Paradise."
Further on in his letter the padre describes the terrible hardships and suffering the men had to undergo. After telling about their failure to find El Dorado, he says:
"The men and officers returned to us nearly naked. In the warm rain their clothes had rotted on their backs, and were torn into shreds by the thickets they had crawled through on their hands and knees. Their feet were bare and wounded by the thorns and roots in the pathways, and their swords were not only without sheaths, but were eaten up with rust. Hunger compelled them to kill and eat their horses and dogs."
While this had been going on in Peru, the King of Spain was busy sending out men for the same purpose. The story of the Gilded Man was known over all Europe, and other nations, besides Spain, were trying to find him. Some German bankers had loaned the king large sums of money for the privilege of searching for El Dorado, and the first white men to visit Gautavita was a band of Germans sent out by the banking house. They wanted slaves as well as gold, and were just as merciless and cruel as the Spaniards. In fact, any man having money enough to buy boats, or to provision men, stole off into the woods and went in search of the Gilded Man. The country was overrun with armed bands of adventurers who were ready to commit any kind of crime for the sake of gain. Whoever offered resistance was killed, and they were suspicious and jealous of each other, as well as of the Indians.
After Pizarro's brother made such a miserable failure, and had to endure such bitter hardships one would expect his friends and associates to be careful about making another venture, but they knew of the German invaders, and then it was a race to see who would get hold of the Gilded Man first. Either side would have killed him and burned and pillaged the city, so the Indians had learned to distrust and hate all white men, and they made war on both the Spaniards and Germans whenever they had an opportunity.
A young Spanish lieutenant, named Quesada, was the real conqueror of the Muscas, and, as might have been expected, he murdered the Zipa and robbed Gautavita, and every other village in the kingdom. He was as hard-hearted with his men, as he was with the Indians, and after five hundred of them had died from exposure on the way, they found themselves surrounded on all sides by overflowing rivers. Weeping and dejected they sought Quesada, saying:
"We beseech you to send us back to Peru. Instead of gold, only hunger, misery and death await us here. The Gilded Man only exists in the distorted fancy of those who believe the lying tales of the Indians."
At this juncture they stumbled on to a path with huts, at intervals, by the wayside, filled with the white cakes of salt said to come from the home of the Gilded Man, and they also found some cotton cloth.
"We are on the right road at last," said Quesada, to his dispirited soldiery. "Prove faithful now, and we shall soon stand face to face with El Dorado." With a significant nod of the head, he added: "You know what that means to fearless men, like yourselves, and you can trust to the generosity of your captain for a rich reward."
The prospect of getting plenty of gold soon caused the men to forget all about their troubles, but the Zipa not only fought them stubbornly, but when he was finally compelled to abandon Gautavita, there was no treasure to be found. The Muscas had either buried all their gold and emeralds, or thrown them into the lake. Great, indeed, was the disappointment of the Spaniards, and for his own safety Quesada soon planned another expedition against a neighboring tribe of Indians. The strange chief was surprised and captured in the Council House, and with him perished all of the notable men of the tribe. The soldiers found some gold and some very fine emeralds, but when they went to sack the Temple of the Sun, which had a thatched roof, they carelessly set the dry leaves on fire, and burned all the plate and other treasures it contained. Bands of armed men rode hither and yon looking for the Zipa, whom they now believed to be the Gilded Man. He kept in very close hiding, and no amount of torture, or promises of reward could make his followers tell where he was, or where the gold ornaments and vessels were hidden.
"He is in the mountain fastnesses, where he has a house made of gold," declared some irresponsible Indians, glad to get rid of the cruel Spaniards.
"Where is the house located?" Quesada asked, eagerly.
"Some of the Indians say it is in the north, some say the south, some say near by, and others far away," answered his servant.
"Very well, we will search in all directions until we find the miserable dog, and when we do it shall go hard with him."
It took them several months to hunt him down, and when they did find him he could not be induced to tell anything about the treasures.
"I have a house of gold in the sun where my master and lord, Bochica lives. I go to him, whom I have faithfully served all my life."
After his death a new governor was sent from Peru, and he undertook to drain the lake to get the treasures of gold and emeralds which had been thrown into it in honor of the Golden Hearted. The Muscas were told that the new Governor would be kind to them if they would tell where they had hidden their wealth, but one of their priests said:
"Do you think a river will run up hill?"
The new Governor, hearing the remark, turned to him, and said:
"No, it is not possible for water to run up hill. Why do you ask such a foolish question?"
"How then, do you expect me to believe in the existence of a white man who will be just to us? One thing is quite as possible as the other."
And to this day no one knows what became of the riches of the brave Muscas, but it is said that they still remember the Golden Hearted, and in secret, offer gold and emeralds in his honor.
The White Sea of the Manoas
THE death of the Zipa and the complete subjugation of the Muscas, did not cause people to forget the story of El Dorado. On the contrary other nations soon began to fit out expeditions to search for him, and they went into some dreadful places in South America thinking they would find him.
"What ails that dog of an Indian?" asked Aguirre, the tyrant, and the worst of all the Spanish adventurers looking for gold.
"He has fainted from fatigue," answered one of his men.
"Then cut off his head. We have no time to waste on these slaves."
"Let us unfasten the chain around his neck, and then he can drop behind the rest of the gang," pleaded some of the Indians, who were being used to help the horses carry the baggage.
"It will take too long, and the whole chain-gang of men would have to wait until we could unfasten his neckband and put some one else in his place. Chop off his head with this sword, and go on."
The other officers tried to console the terrified Indians by saying:
"If we were to leave him lying by the roadside, some wild animal would come along and eat him, so it is just as well for him as if we had done as you wished."
Many people now say that Aguirre was insane, and to this day the poor Christian Indians cross themselves when they hear strange noises at night, and exclaim:
"It is the soul of the tyrant Aguirre, who plunged a dagger through the heart of his own daughter when the King's officers came to arrest and punish him for his cruelties. He is doomed to wander over the swamps at night, and wail over his terrible sins. His soul can never be at rest."
Like thistle-down scattered by the wind, were the wonderful tales of El Dorado. No matter where white men went they failed to find it, but the cunning Indians always told them that it was still farther away, because they wanted to get rid of the unwelcome visitors, who tortured and enslaved, as well as robbed them.
Finally Sir Walter Raleigh, who helped colonize the state of Virginia, and named it for Good Queen Bess of England, heard about the city of Omagua, and the White Sea of the Manoas, and he determined to find them, because there, he believed, was El Dorado.
Some English sailors under his command traded some pieces of old iron to the Indians for shields of gold.
"Where did you get this metal?" was asked of the Indians.
"In Omagua, where the tiles on the roofs of the houses are made from the same glittering substance, and where we hang crescents of it in front of our doors to keep away evil spirits."
"What they say must be true," said the sailors among themselves, "for they have gold crowns on their heads, and breast-plates and earrings."
"Where is this city of Omagua?" again asked the men.
"It is very far south, and is on a lake of gold. Our chief lives in the House of the Sun, and has many green stones in his shield and on the walls of the temples."
"What is the name of your chief?"
"El Dorado," answered the Indians, anxious that the white men should know that they could speak their language.
"It is all plain to me," said Sir Walter Raleigh, when told of it. "Those Spanish adventurers have failed to find the real El Dorado. We will search for it ourselves."
"The Indians say there are whole streets filled with workers in gold and precious stones," said one of his officers, "and I dare say we shall make our enterprise quite profitable." So they, too, were looking for gold, only their methods were not so barbarous and cruel as the others had been.
As they went farther into the country they found a numerous band of Indians with flat heads, and when they examined the babies carried on the backs of their mothers it was seen that they had tied a board across the forehead so that it would sink in and leave the head pointed and flat in front.
"Why do you treat your heads in this manner?" some one asked their chief.
"Because our fathers did so, and we think it makes us beautiful," he answered. In that country there are still plenty of flat-headed Indians. As the men marched along they came to trees with holes cut through the bark, and little earthen pots hanging under them to catch the sticky-looking milk that oozed out.
"Can this be something good to eat?" the men said. "Let us taste it and see."
"Ugh! it has a nasty, disagreeable, bitter flavor," said the speaker, licking his finger after he had stuck it down into the pot. "It smells so badly that it makes me feel sick," he continued, spitting it out quickly.
"Here comes an old woman with some nuts from the palm tree she has been shaking in her hands. Let us ask her what this stuff is good for."
But the old woman evidently did not have a very good opinion of white men, and would not speak to them at all.
"We can watch her," they said, "and see whether she intends to eat it."
She paid no attention to them, but went on making a fire out of the palm nuts and some dry leaves, and as soon as they blazed brightly she set the little pot near the fire and began stirring the milk with a wooden paddle she carried in her hand. As soon as the blaze smouldered, she held the paddle over it until the milk began to get thick. Then she dipped it back into the pot and repeated the process until there was enough coating to scrape off and make a flat cake.
"Will you please give me the biscuit?" inquired one of the bystanders. Without a word the old woman threw it at him, and when he caught it in his hands, he exclaimed:
"It is India rubber! Now we can have a game of ball!" As it was still warm he rounded it into shape with his hands, and then he and his companions amused themselves for quite a while throwing the ball against the trees and catching it as it bounded back. While they were engaged in this sport the cooks were preparing them something to eat, but the forest was full of monkeys swinging themselves from one tree to another by their long tails and seemingly very much interested in what the men underneath them were doing.
Now, we all know that a monkey imitates everything it sees, and so the whole band began to go through the motion of throwing. As soon as they found out there was something to eat they bobbed their heads and screeched and chattered in great excitement. Every time the cook's back was turned they slid down a limb of the tree and grabbed a dish and scampered back again. They had such solemn little faces, and were so quick about it, that the men shouted with laughter, but when they sat down to eat, the monkeys jumped out of the trees and rushed for the food.
The old Indian woman, comprehending the situation, approached camp and said:
"Will the white chief let me cook something for the monkeys?"
"What do you want to feed them?"
"A pot of rice," she answered, "such as I know well how to prepare."
No one made any objection, and it was not long before she had a big pan full of boiled rice, which she had made almost red with pepper. Taking a wide, green leaf, she laid it down and poured the rice out to cool. No sooner had she done so than the monkeys swarmed around the pile, and squatting beside it began to eat by the handful. Tears ran down their faces and water poured from their mouths, but they kept on eating for a few minutes. Then, suddenly seeming to suspect each other of being to blame, they commenced fighting with sticks and stones until they scattered the rice all over the ground. By this time the pepper was burning their mouths worse than ever, and not knowing what was the matter they set up a doleful howling, and ran pell-mell into the river quite a distance from camp. They tumbled into the water and rolled and wallowed in it, but it was some little time before their mouths quit smarting, and they were very willing to let the men alone.
The dogs belonging to the party gave chase, but the monkeys screamed so that they awoke the alligators sleeping in the sun on the river bank, and then the dogs had to run for their lives. One or two of them barely escaped being caught in the wide open mouths of these monsters. It was very much cooler when the sun went down, but that brought out the mosquitos, and the men were obliged to sit in the smoke to save themselves from being bitten dreadfully. They kept the fire going all night, because they were afraid of the jaguars and panthers hidden in the woods during the day, but ready to kill and eat anything they might find in their night prowls.
It was considered safer out of doors than in the tents, but it was impossible to sleep on account of the hideous noises made by the animals, monkeys, birds and snakes.
"Why do these creatures keep up such a terrible din?" asked the men of their Indian guides.
"Because they are keeping the feast of the full moon," they replied, and this appeared to be a settled belief among them.
"Men put the jaguar out of humor," they explained. "He is a very selfish beast, and if he cannot rule alone he goes to his den and sulks. He will follow a man all day through the woods and will not spring upon him unless he tries to run or moves his arms. If you think one is following you do not look back and do not trust anything but the sharp blade of your sword. The noise of a gun only infuriates him."
As the men heard this they imagined they could see the yellow eyes glaring at them in the darkness, and some thought they smelled him.
"He is a ferocious, blood-thirsty beast," said the Indians in conclusion, "and you may well think yourselves fortunate when you leave these tropic forests and get out into the open plains."
The men would have agreed with him if it had not been for the intense heat, and a terrible sandstorm that almost blinded them for days when it did not blow so hard that they could make no headway against it. Finally, footsore, weary, and almost discouraged, they came to a wide and deep river, and here the Indian guides brought them boats, which they called pirogues.
"We are not far from the lake of gold beside the city of the Manoas," they said, and when the delighted soldiers inquired particularly, they responded readily:
"We have these things from our fathers and other men wise in the traditions and sayings of our people, but we are afraid to go any further, for the Manoans are a fierce and warlike race."
About this time Sir Walter Raleigh learned that the Queen was not pleased with his efforts in search of the El Dorado, and he decided to withdraw his men and abandon the attempt.
But this did not hinder other men from trying to solve the mystery. It was more than a hundred years before the truth was finally known, and then a scientist discovered that the location itself had shifted and was nearly as much changed as the ideas about El Dorado. He traced the legend to Lake Parima, near the center of South America, and said:
"This is really the White Sea of the Manoas, which people have long believed was a lake of gold. The reason the Indians thought so was because there is some fine gold-dust in the washings of the sand, which has plenty of mica mixed with it. Then there is a large quantity of salt dried on the grass, and when the hot sun shines, it looks at a distance as if it were a great sea of gold."
"Are the houses covered with gold tiles?" was the next inquiry.
"No indeed: they are common huts with thatched roofs on which the salt and mica glisten and sparkle as they do in the grass and sand."
"Are the natives warlike? and do they eat each other, as we have been told?"
"They are armed with javelins, wooden shields, bows and arrows, and a short sword which they make for themselves. We found them very friendly, and as for their being cannibals that is all imagination, but it may have been true in olden times."
And this is really what people spent millions of money trying to find, and for which hundreds of lives were uselessly sacrificed.