I just stood behind him, perplexed. I could see no differ ence between this tunnel and any of the other half- dozen that we had just come through.
And then for some reason unknown to myself, Renco ducked underneath the foul-smelling water. Moments later, he came up with a rock the size of a man's fist. Then he climbed up out of the water and stood astride the narrow ledge that lined the tunnel and with his newfound rock began to hit the underside of one of the stone slabs that formed the ceiling of the tunnel.
Bang-bang. Bang.
Renco waited for a moment. Then he repeated the same sequence.
Bang-bang. Bang.
It was a code of some sort. Renco stepped back down into the water and we both stared up at the wet stone ceiling in silence, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing happened.
We kept waiting. As we did so, I noticed a small symbol carved into the corner of the stone slab that Renco had been assailing. It was a carving of a circle, with a double 'V' inscribed within it.
And then all of a sudden—boom-boom, boom—a series of muffled whumps could be heard from the other side of the ceiling. Someone repeating Renco's code.
Renco sighed with relief. Then he stood up on the ledge again and pounded out a new sequence of thumps.
Moments later, the whole square-shaped section of the ceiling slid away, grinding loudly against its neighbours, revealing a dark, cavern-like space above us.
Renco immediately climbed up out of the water and disappeared into the hole in the ceiling. I followed.
I came up inside a most splendid room, an enormous vault- like chamber, lined on all four sides with magnificent golden images. All four walls of the chamber were made of solid stone blocks, each one ten feet wide and probably as thick.
There was no obvious door, except for a smaller stone this one only six feet in height—set within one of the sturdy walls.
I was in the vault of the Coricancha.
A single flaming torch illuminated the cavernous space.
It was held by a burly Incan warrior. Three other equally large warriors stood behind the torchbearer, glaring at me.
There was another person in the vault, however. An elderly woman, and she had eyes only for Renco.
She was a handsome woman, with grey hair and wrinkled skin, and I imagined that in her prime she must have been a strikingly beautiful woman. She was dressed simply, in a white cotton robe and a gold-and-emerald headdress.
And I must say that in her simple white attire, she looked angelic, almost heavenly, like a priestess of some
Boom!
I spun at the sudden noise. Renco did, too.
Boom!
It seemed to come from the other side of the walls. Someone pounding on the outside of the stone door.
I froze in horror.
The Spaniards.
Hernando.
They were trying to get in.
The old priestess said something to Renco in Quechuano Renco replied quickly and then he gestured toward me.
Boom! Boom!
The old priestess then turned hurriedly to a stone pedestal behind her. I saw on the pedestal an object covered with a purple silk-like cloth.
The priestess picked up the object-cloth and all—and despite the insistent pounding on the walls, handed it solemnly to Renco. I still could not see what lay beneath the cloth. Whatever it was, it was about the size and shape of a human head.
Renco took the object respectfully.
Boom! Boom!
Why was he moving so slowly, I wondered incredulously, as my eyes darted to the shuddering stone walls around us.
Once the object was safely in his hands, Renco slowly removed its cloth.
And I saw it.
And for a moment, I could do nothing but stare.
It was the most beautiful, and yet at the same time the most fearsome-looking idol I had ever seen.
