"Nay! but I do know, my dear. Since the war began I have thought often what it must be. But do not thank me. No need of words. Thy happiness is more than thanks enough. I always loved thee, Rava, when we were together in the old palace at Cuzco. Now, thou ’rt no less dear to me than mine own daughters in far-off Quito. I trust soon to remove the nearest cause of thy sorrow. It was for this, as I have said, that I sent for thee to come to Caxamalca." They were interrupted by a youth of twenty years, in the uniform of a Quitoan general. As he drew near he removed his helmet, disclosing the yellow _llautu_ worn by the princes of the blood royal, and knelt as he placed a pebble upon his shoulder in the customary sign of homage. It was the Auqui[2] Toparca, brother to Atahualpa, and like the latter, a half-brother of the Ñusta Rava. Not even his exalted rank permitted him to approach the sovereign otherwise than in the attitude of a subject; but the obeisance performed, he arose and was embraced by the two, and the trio strolled on together. The conversation turned at once upon the strangers in Caxamalca. The purposed visit of the Inca was deprecated with timid earnestness by the Ñusta, and with energy by the Auqui; but Atahualpa waved aside their objections with a smile, and soon afterwards returned to the palace. [2] Auqui = Prince. *CHAPTER VI* _*The Massacre*_ It was after midday when the Inca gave the order for the formation of his troops, and the brazen notes of trumpets rose from the parade in front of the villa. As the last measure died away the call was taken up in one quarter after another, and the air trembled with the din of the horns of the legions from Quito, the hoarse bellow of the conches of the coast tribes, the shrieking pipes of the mountaineers from the highlands around Chimborazo, and the growl of the drums of the fierce hordes from the eastern slopes of the Andes,—a huge wild diapason that sent another chill to Spanish hearts as it floated over the valley. The tumult died away on the distant flanks of the encampment. Presently, company after company was sweeping into the low plain between the camp and the river, and forming into battalions. Here they stood motionless, broke at last into columns, and marched down to the fords, the earth shaken by the feet of their thousands, the air hideously vibrant with the fierce music of their instruments and wild chanting. A sound as of surf breaking on a shingled beach rose above the stream, its silver turned into yellow turbidity which stained its course for many a mile below, while the dark columns crept up the eastern bank and deployed on the plain in front of Caxamalca.