Aurealis #135 Read online

  Ithilia offered the fruit to Rodrigo again, but he pushed it away. ‘Then give us the gold from your source.’

  ‘Don’t you think this is worth another bite?’ She put the half-eaten fruit back on the plate. ‘You see, the ñakaqs are our only source of gold. We have no other. The last of the unused gold we have is in the crater of helmets, and we will need it for our own art. So that leaves us with a dilemma, doesn’t it?’

  Rodrigo sat back in his chair. ‘You have no gold to give us.’

  ‘You could return to the Quechua-speaker village where we destroyed the ñakaq army. The gold in the helmets there would be considerable. You would only need to give us half.’

  ‘What? You want us to scour the corpses of tens of thousands of ñakaqs and pry out each sliver of gold piece by piece? And then give you half?’ Rodrigo couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘And after all that, we won’t have enough anyway. Nowhere near enough.’

  ‘There is an alternative. Search for the source of gold in the ñakaq heartlands. You may also find the way back to your lands. We can carry you to the inaccessible places the way we have been. You found the hidden valley. You can find the source of gold.’

  Blood rose to his face. ‘This is your best offer? Months or years of searching for a gold source you’ve never been able to find?’

  ‘When you find it, as much as you want is yours.’

  Rodrigo leapt to his feet and hurled plates from the table so that they clattered across the stone floor of the Feasting Hall, splattering Spaniards and duendes with food. ‘No, we demand you give us gold from here in the High Palaces as reward for what we’ve done.’

  ‘Sit down,’ said Ithilia. ‘I’ve already told you that’s impossible.’

  ‘I won’t—’

  He felt Ithilia’s hand on his shoulder and her breath in his ear as she whispered to him. ‘This is not how a guest behaves.’

  Rodrigo felt her fingers digging deeply into his shoulder as she pushed him back down into his seat.

  ‘You have our support in your quest for gold, Capitán Rodrigo Benalcázar.’

  He fought against the pressure, but her strength was enormous.

  Slowly he sat back down.

  The Incan servants quickly removed the scattered plates and food, replacing them on the table in front of Rodrigo and Ithilia.

  Ithilia smiled and held another yellow apple in front of him, and he took a bite.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The Last Valley

  Tagón promised that the new valley was now not far as he led the way along the steep mountain path. Cristóbal was unused to trekking long distances on foot, and for the first time since the fire thought about his horse. The poor beast had been through so much with him, he couldn’t bear the notion that its last moments alive must have been agony. What else could Nueva Tierra take away from him?

  Eleria was now his only hope of reversing what had been a steady deterioration in his fortunes since entering this strange land. Although the duende was alive, she was struggling with the trek from the cavern, despite Héctor’s support. She still had her hands and wings tied, making it difficult for her to maintain her balance on the descent, and she was obviously not used to walking. He would need to nurse her back to health if she was going to be any use to him.

  When they finally entered the new valley, Cristóbal’s heart sank. It was hardly more than a rocky gorge surrounded by high cliffs, with a small forested area and a stream trickling through the centre.

  ‘There won’t be room for all of us to live here,’ he said to Tagón. ‘The huts will be cramped together.’

  ‘There won’t be any huts.’ Tagón pointed to the southern cliff face. ‘That’s where you’ll all be living.’

  Cristóbal shielded his eyes against the sun and saw the myriad of small openings in the rock. ‘So we’re living in caves now?’

  ‘Yes, you’ll be safe here.’

  Safe. Cristóbal felt the word scratching the back of his throat and wanted to spit it out. He wanted to write it in large letters in his diary and then tear out the page and rip it to pieces. ‘Tagón, I need to find some hope, not just safety. I need to know that Nueva Tierra is more than just an endless series of mountains and valleys. I need to know what I’ve been defending. I need a purpose.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘You’re the king now. There has to be some way for me to see your Great Halls.’

  Tagón fell silent.

  Cristóbal said, ‘Don’t promise me anything. Just think about it.’

  Tagón didn’t look at him.

  * * *

  Cristóbal and Sarpay climbed up to the entrance to one of the caves and stepped into the half-light. They placed their sack of belongings on the ground and sat down.

  ‘Do you dream of condors anymore?’ asked Sarpay.

  Cristóbal ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Yes, I think I did once before the last attack. Why? Do you want me to have even more bad luck?’

  ‘When you dreamt of condors you were anxious, but you were striving for something.’

  ‘I’m not anxious. Tagón says we’ll be safe here.’

  ‘I know that’s not enough for you, Cristóbal.’

  ‘Is it enough for you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose it would be. You’ve achieved your life’s work by keeping the hope of an Incan Empire alive and stopping me from ever finding Vilcabamba. Me, I’ve achieved nothing.’

  ‘The condor dream was just after you came back with the gold-filled urns, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It may have been.’

  ‘What happened that day? You didn’t tell me too much about it.’

  Cristóbal shifted position. ‘I told you Tagón took us to the source of the ñakaq gold. I… I just assumed he wanted me to keep the details a secret.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what your plan is?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I know you too well now. You’ve been acting differently since you returned that day. Do two urns full of gold matter that much to you?’

  ‘They don’t. I started thinking that with the knowledge of the gold source I could win my command back.’

  ‘You think you can gain the conquistadors respect again? Does their respect still have value to you after what they’ve done?’

  ‘I need my command back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because without it I don’t know who I am.’

  ‘I see. And this captured duende is part of your plan?’

  ‘Yes, although I don’t know exactly how yet.’

  Sarpay lay the alpaca fur she had carried with her on the ground. ‘Then you don’t lust after the duende like Héctor does?’

  ‘Does he?’

  ‘Have you been too obsessed with your own thoughts to see it?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  Sarpay walked towards the entrance of the cave which was bathed in sunlight, and then turned to face him. ‘There was a time when you were obsessed with me. Do you remember? You barely spoke to me for a long time, but we both knew, didn’t we?’

  ‘I remember.’

  She took off her garments and the light contoured her slender body as she stood in front of him. ‘I don’t have the strength of a duende, but you know I’m strong, don’t you?’

  Cristóbal nodded.

  ‘And I have no wings; but you’re a condor, so you don’t need the wings of others, do you?’ She walked towards him and he stood up. ‘I chose you. You haven’t forgotten that, have you? Am I not enough for you anymore?’

  ‘I’m still obsessed with you,’ he said softly.

  He took off his clothes and lifted her up so that he took all her weight and her legs twined with his.

  For a moment, they were one.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  The Final Requerimiento

  ‘They killed the children.’ Padre Núñez paced up and down Rodrigo’s chamber. His eyes were wild and spittle formed in the corners of his mouth as he spoke.
Outside the open window clouds gathered across the peaks.

  ‘Ithilia told me they were all stillborn,’ said Rodrigo.

  ‘Every single one of them? And you believe her? You believe her?’

  ‘Why should she lie?’

  ‘To cover up that they killed them, Lieutenant Benalcázar?’

  ‘Capitán Benalcázar.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. Capitán. Capitán.’

  ‘So why would they have killed them?’

  ‘Because having children is no different to a dance for them. Because carrying a child is the same as a living sculpture. Because something needs to suffer or die every time they create a work of art. I don’t understand what goes on in their minds, but they’re beyond redemption.’ He wiped the spit from his lips.

  ‘What do you want me to do, Padre?’

  ‘These duendes are not going to come to God willingly. They won’t. Their words are as difficult to hold onto as a gust of wind, but I know what to do now. I know what to do.’

  ‘What are you saying, Padre?’ said Rodrigo. ‘And stop walking backwards and forwards. It makes it hard to concentrate on what you’re saying.’

  ‘You have to allow me to read them the Requerimiento.’

  ‘What? Declare war on them?’

  ‘We both know the Requerimiento isn’t a declaration of war. It’s our solemn duty to crown and God. It’s why we’re here. Have you forgotten our purpose?’

  ‘You want to tell them that unless they submit to the will of the Pope and His Imperial Majesty, King Charles V, we’ll attack them? Are you mad? How can we threaten them with war and enslavement if we’re their guests here?’

  ‘We need to leave these palaces. The longer we’re here, the worse it will become.’

  ‘They saved us from slaughter by the ñakaqs. They’re our allies.’

  ‘We can’t be allied with them anymore. They’ve sent our children to purgatory without any hope of salvation.’

  ‘You don’t know that, Padre.’

  ‘I was here the night the babies were born. I heard them cry that night. The duendes almost convinced me I didn’t hear them, but I know I did. The children were alive. They’ve been killed and now their souls are lost forever.’

  ‘What do you think will happen after you recite the Requerimiento to the duendes?’

  ‘We’ll be on the right path again. It will return our moral authority to us. We should trust God’s Will. Has the path you’ve chosen without him given you anything?’ The padre’s eyes grew wilder and his voice more strained.

  ‘Ithilia has promised to help us find the source of ñakaq gold.’

  ‘Just words. You must know by now that you can’t trust the meaning of any of the duende words. They have the power to make you believe things you wouldn’t otherwise believe. We need God’s Word to protect us against them.’

  ‘Stop pacing!’ Rodrigo shouted. ‘Let me think.’

  Padre Núñez stopped in front of him, but he continued to shift weight from side to side.

  ‘You’ll read the Requerimiento in Spanish, yes?’ said Rodrigo.

  ‘That’s the way His Imperial Majesty wrote it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter that the duendes know very little Spanish?’

  ‘No, its force isn’t diminished.’

  ‘Then read it to Ithilia, if it’s the only thing that will give you peace.’

  Padre Núñez calmed instantly.

  * * *

  ‘Why would you come to my chamber?’ Ithilia stood with Ariathe and several other duendes as Padre Núñez approached, holding a cross in one hand and the Requerimiento document in the other.

  He walked towards her until he stood directly in front of her. ‘I am required by our Lord to read the Requerimiento to you.’

  ‘Your God’s requirements are no concern of mine. Please leave us.’

  Ithilia waved him away as if he were an annoying insect, but Padre Núñez ignored her and began reading.

  ‘The Requerimiento requires you to recognise the Church as your Mistress and Governess of the World, and with her authority the High Priest, called the Pope, and His Imperial Majesty, King Charles V. If you do not do this, then with the help of God we shall come mightily against you, and we shall make war on you everywhere and in every way that we can.’

  ‘Don’t speak words to me in a language I barely understand.’

  Padre Núñez continued despite her protest.

  ‘And we shall subject you to the yoke and obedience of the Church and His Majesty, and we shall seize your women and children, and we shall make them slaves, to sell and dispose of as His Majesty commands, and we shall do all the evil and damage to you that we are able. And should this death and destruction befall you, be aware that the responsibility will be yours alone. Do you recognise the Church as your Mistress and submit to the Will of God?’

  He fell into silence and offered the cross to Ithilia.

  She looked at the cross and then directly into the padre’s eyes. ‘Are you demanding that I accept the authority of your God? This God that you wish to infect my people with? The God that requires baptism?’

  Padre Núñez repeated his question in Quechua. ‘Do you recognise the Church as your Mistress and submit to God’s Will?’

  ‘How do you know what the Will of your God is?’

  ‘I’m a man of God.’

  ‘I see. A man of God.’

  She grabbed the hand with which the padre was holding the cross. He tried to pull away, but she drew his hand towards Ariathe and pressed both cross and hand firmly against her stomach.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he protested.

  ‘I want to see how much of you is man and how much God.’

  ‘Let go of me.’

  ‘I’m touching your cross. Isn’t that what you wanted? To touch the cross is a good thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Release my hand.’ Padre Núñez’s fingers began to go numb under the pressure. ‘Take the cross. Take it from me.’

  ‘Isn’t it good for us to hold the cross together? There’s no mistake that you are bringing your God to me.’ Ithilia’s fingers dug into his tendons. ‘Tell me first how a man of God is different to a man?’

  Padre Núñez grimaced.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said tightening her grip.

  ‘We…’ he grunted in pain. ‘Franciscans… take vows of poverty, obedience and chastity.’

  ‘Poverty? I see, and yet you perform your duties with men whose lust for gold has no bounds?’

  ‘Please…’ He could now feel pain shooting up his arm.

  ‘Obedience? Which command from your God have you obediently followed? How many pagans have you baptised?’

  Padre Núñez heard a bone in his hand crack. He gasped as pain shot up his arm.

  ‘Tell me how many pagans you have baptised,’ demanded Ithilia.

  ‘One.’ The padre’s voice was barely audible.

  ‘One? You have obediently baptised one?’

  The padre grew faint as the pain spread to his shoulder and chest.

  ‘And chastity?’ said Ithilia. ‘Tell us how you have held your vow of chastity.’

  He trembled.

  ‘Tell us. As you hold the cross of your God against the belly that carries your child, tell us how you kept your vow of chastity. Tell us in what manner you can call yourself a man of God?’

  Padre Núñez whimpered as he fell to his knees.

  ‘Come, stand up,’ said Ithilia. ‘We all fall short of what we feel we should be. Let me show you what my people do in times like these.’

  She and Ariathe helped him out onto her balcony. The wind whistled as they took him towards the edge and the open sky below.

  ‘Do you see?’ asked Ithilia. ‘The immensity of the heavens. What are your vows in the face of such vastness?’ She still held his hand which clutched the cross. ‘Step closer to see it all for yourself. Don’t be afraid. You have your cross and I will hold you.’

  He took another step and the em
pty sky yawned at his feet.

  ‘Of course, you know your God will protect you. You have fallen short in his service but he will not forsake you. You know that, don’t you?’

  Padre Núñez began the Lord’s prayer, his voice trembling. ‘Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.’

  ‘What you’re certain of is that you haven’t failed him. You know it in your heart.’ Ithilia’s voice blew through the padre’s words as he spoke them.

  ‘Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.’

  ‘And you don’t need proof from him, do you? Why would you?’

  ‘Give us this day our daily bread.’

  ‘Of course, if there is any doubt, any doubt at all that you may have failed him, you could put it to the test. You could give yourself to the heavens. If you have been true to your God, he will protect you.’

  ‘And forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us.’

  ‘Why not banish any doubt? Give yourself to the heavens. It would be so simple, wouldn’t it? So simple.’

  ‘And lead us not into temptation.’

  ‘And such a relief to finally be certain.’

  Ithilia released her hold of the padre’s hand.

  ‘And deliver us from evil.’

  ‘Such a relief.’

  ‘And… deliver us from evil.’

  ‘To finally, finally be certain.’

  ‘Amen.’

  And with the final word, Padre Núñez still clutching the cross in his crippled hand, let himself fall forwards into the open sky.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  El diario de Cristóbal de Varga

  I dreamt of the condor again last night. On awakening I was beset by a question that now torments my soul.

  If no-one saw it soar across the vast heavens.

  If no-one saw it stretch its colossal wings to catch the up-draughts.

  If no-one saw it dance with the mountain winds.