What I saw filled my heart with unimaginable horror: a column of Spanish soldiers—no fewer than three hundred of them, resplendent in their forged silver armour and distinctive pointed helmets—came charging into the valley from the northern tollgates, their muskets firing. Their horses were covered in heavy silver plating and, thus protected, the mounted Spanish troops cut a swathe through the ranks of the Incan warriors in front of them.
As I watched the column of conquistadors hack their way through the Incan ranks, trampling the Indians before them, I beheld two of the riders near the head of the procession, both of whom I recognised. The first was the Captain, Hernando Pizarro, the Governor's brother and a most cruel man. His distinctive black moustache and unkempt woolly beard were visible even from where I stood, four hundred paces away.
The second horseman was a figure whom I recognised with some degree of dread. Indeed, so much so that I took a second glance at him. But my worst fears were confirmed.
It was Castino.
The brutish Chanca who had been in the San Vicente with Renco. Only now he rode with his hands unmanacled— free—alongside Hernando.
And then all at once I understood.
Castino must have overheard my conversations with Renco…
He was leading Hernando to the vault inside the Coricancha.
Renco knew this, too. 'By the gods,' said he. He turned with haste to his brother. 'I must go. I must go now.”
'Speed to you, brother,' said Manco.
Renco nodded curtly to the Sapa Inca and then turned to me and said in Spanish, 'Come. We must hurry.'
We left the Sapa Inca and hastened around to the south side of the city, the side furthest from Sacsayhuaman. As we did so, I saw Hernando and his horsemen charge in through the city's northern gate.
'Where are we going?' I inquired as we strode quickly through the angry crowd.
'To the lower river,' was all my companion said in reply.
At length, we came to the river which ran alongside the southern wall of the city. I looked up at the wall on the other side of the stream and saw Spanish soldiers armed with muskets and swords walking the ramparts, silhouetted by the orange light of the fires burning behind them.
Renco strode purposefully toward the river and, to my great surprise, stepped boots-and-all straight into the water.
'Wait!' I cried. 'Where are you going?'
'Down there,' said he, indicating the body of water.
'But I… I can't. I can't go in there with you.'
Renco gripped my arm firmly. 'My friend Alberto, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have done, what you have risked to allow me to complete my mission.
But now I must hurry if I am to succeed in my quest. Join me, Alberto. Stay with me. Complete my mission with me. Look at these people. While you are with me, you are a hero to them. But while you are not, you are just another gold-eater who must be killed. And now I must go. I cannot stay behind with you. If you stay here, I will not be able to help you.
Come with me, Alberto. Dare to live.'
I looked at the Incan warriors behind me. Even with their primitive sticks and clubs, they still looked fierce and dangerous. I saw a Spanish soldier's head on a stake nearby, its mouth open in a grotesque yawn.
'I think I will go with you,' said I, turning and stepping waist-deep into the water next to him.
'All right, then. Take a deep breath,' said he, 'and follow me.'
And with that Renco held his breath and disappeared under the water. I shook my head and, despite myself, took a deep breath and followed him under the surface.
Silence.
The chants and shouts of the Incan hordes were gone now.
In the darkness of the murky river I followed Renco's kicking feet into a circular stone pipe that was set into the underwater wall of the city.
It was difficult to pull myself through the submerged cylindrical tunnel, its confines were so narrow. And it seemed to go on for an eternity. But then, just when it seemed as if my lungs would burst, I saw the end of the pipe and the rippling waves of the surface beyond it and I pulled myself harder through the water toward them.
I arose inside an underground sewer of some kind, lit by • flaming torches mounted on the walls. I was standing waist-deep in water. Damp stone walls surrounded me.
Square-shaped stone tunnels stretched away into the dark ness. The foul stench of human faeces filled the air.
Renco was already wading through the water away from me, toward a junction in the tunnel system. I hurried after him.
Through the tunnels we went. Left then right, left then right—thus we made our way hastily through the under ground labyrinth. Never once did Renco seem lost or doubtful—he just turned into each tunnel with confidence and purpose.
And then all at once he stopped and stared up at the stone ceiling above us.
