The Victory at Quito

by Mark Anthony Signorelli (April 2010)

Down the mountain pass to Quijos
In the quarter of the north,
The captain Benalcázar
And his squad came rushing forth,
With their old world armor gleaming
Down the length of their hot train,
And their snapping flags declaring
All the pride of martial Spain.

And before them Rumiñavi
Fled alone along the path
From the ever-nearing clamor
Of his foes’ impending wrath;
And his limbs were faint and trembling
From the labors he had born,
And his feet were raw and bleeding
From wounds the rocks had torn.

Still the liege of Atahualpa
Persisted as he could,
And still the regal Spanish
Thundered through the wood,
Till they gained a florid clearing
In their fierce celerity
Where they found the warrior leaning
On a lonely boxwood tree.

And they set at once upon him
With a great triumphant shout,
And they dragged him off to Quito
Where the flames had not gone out;
Then they threw him in their prison
Bound fast as any beast,
And retired to their quarters
For the revel and the feast.

And when morning light in Quito
Peaked from the hills once more
The captain Benalcázar
Stood at the prison door;
And he strode into the chamber
With an air of high disdain
And sneered down on his captive
Who slept upon his chain.

Then he kicked him in his fury
And spit upon his head,
And demanded all the lucre
That his heart so coveted;
But noble Rumiñavi
Said not a word at all,
And only sat serenely
Against the granite wall.

So fuming Benalcázar
With a flourish of his hand
Urged on some rock-browed soldiers
Who stood at his command;
And they seized the famous general
Who they then began to beat
With the flat side of their sabers,
With their fists, and with their feet.

But the lord Rumiñavi,
For all that they could do,
Had not a word of riches
To give that frantic crew;
So then frowning Benalcázar
Turned sharply to depart
With the white heat of his anger
Searing at his heart.

The august and warlike condor
Had soared against the noon;
The furtive owl had chanted
To the forest-gilding moon;
And when the yawning morning
Had stirred the town once more,
The captain Benalcázar
Stood at the prison door.

He demanded all the jewels
From the Incas’ ancient hoard,
But the lord Rumiñavi,
He answered not a word;
So the Spaniard took a torchlight
And burned his captive’s feet
Till the flesh was all but swallowed
By the devouring heat.

But for all the wicked torments
That his captors could impose
The noble Rumiñavi
Only smiled at his foes,
And so thwarted Benalcázar
With a curse and with a scowl
Pushed through his wondering soldiers
And departed from the gaol.

The sleek and sable puma
Had gone hunting through the shade;
The viper long had slumbered
In the fatal nest he made;
And when again the morning
Flumed through the valley floor
The captain Benalcázar
Stood at the prison door.

Then he strode across the dungeon
With a fixed impatient air
Until he stood astraddle
His passive prisoner,
And with eyes all red and glaring,
And beard all flecked with spray,
He demanded of his captive
Where the Inca treasure lay.

“I have come here Rumiñavi
One final time to know
Where the fabled wealth of Quito
Your dirty minions stow;
And I swear by all the power
That my greater gods display
If you cross my will this last time
You will surely die today.

The streets of Cajamarca
Where your barbarous pomp has been
Are obstructed with the corpses
Of the Incas’ bravest men,
And your lord Atahualpa,
Whom they used to hold in dread,
Now dons his royal tassle
In the kingdom of the dead.

The palaces of Cuzco
And the fat of Jauja’s lands,
At once alike are gathered
In the Spaniard’s stronger hands,
And the hour is quickly coming,
Before many years are through,
When San Jago’s holy standard
Will fly over all Peru.

So now the time is proper
For the viceroy of the north
To accept the iron status
Of matters going forth;
For fortune is a tyrant
Whom we must accommodate –
So all wise men acknowledge
Whether soon or late.”

Then noble Rumiñavi
Who all this time sat by
In a long disdainful silence
At last made his reply,
As his chest grew broad in anger,
And his chin grew tense in spite,
And his voice rebounded loudly
Like one mindless of his plight.

“If my lord Atahualpa
Now lies sepulchered,
It is only since he trusted
Too mildly to your word,
And that bent of royal honor
Proved greatly to his cost –
But the profit of your treachery
Is a shameful thing to boast.

It is true your shining army
Has brought us many harms,
And carried half the empire
Before your novel arms;
But in this I find no reason
To do homage to your king –
The decrees of chance and justice
Have never been one thing.

Once the sun’s resplendent children
With their golden staff in hand
Left the quiet vale of Tampu
To sojourn in our land,
And to guide the wayward Inca
To their father’s perfect will,
So their place among the nations
They could at last fulfill.

They taught the love of duty,
And the prize of fortitude,
And the cost that every zinchi
Owes to the general good;
So as Viracocha willed it
In our dawn-elated prime,
So shall Rumiñavi follow
Even in this waning time.”

Then the soldiers came and bound him
With rigid cord and mesh
That bore in their hard fastness
Into his naked flesh;
And they dumped him in a wagon
And pulled him to the square
Where the smoke of devastation
Still hung heavy in the air.

And before him Benalcázar
Sat on a pilfered throne
That some Inca hand had fashioned
From the timeless Andes’ stone;
And his face twitched with the fever
Of the fierce expectancy
Of destroying the one object
Of his fear and enmity.

But noble Rumiñavi,
Like one without a care,
Fixed his eyes upon the captain’s,
And returned a placid stare;
As they led him up the scaffold
And tied him to his place,
That expression of indifference
Never left his face.

Then they killed the Incas’ general –
With the garrote in their fists
They extinguished his defiance
With a few deliberate twists,
And when the silent warrior
Seemed to cough his final breath
Two Spaniards came and struck him
To be certain of his death.

Then they took his naked body
And cast it in the street,
Where forsaken dogs were prowling
In search of food to eat;
And captain Benalcázar
With his soldiers all around
Took up their happy standards
And marched proudly from the town.