For the rest, so far as the demands of fiction have permitted, I have adhered to fact. All the characters are historical with the exception of Nahua, who lives in legend rather than in history, and the two Pallas, or wise women, who are inventions of my own. In the conversations I have reproduced as far as possible the exact words of the Conquerors, as recorded in the chronicles of their contemporaries, and if I have succeeded in making any of these wonder-workers live again, if only for an hour or two, in the reader’s mind, I shall have achieved all the success that I can venture to hope for. GEORGE GRIFFITH. CONTENTS PROLOGUE. THE LINE OF FATE BOOK I. CHAPTER I. THE SUNSET OF AN EMPIRE CHAPTER II. THE DOOM OF THE ANCIENT LAW CHAPTER III. THE WARNING OF THE LLAPA CHAPTER IV. THE CROWNING OF ATAHUALLPA CHAPTER V. THE CHOICE OF MANCO CHAPTER VI. THE VEILING OF THE SUN CHAPTER VII. THE KINDLING OF THE PYRE BOOK II. CHAPTER I. ON THE ROAD TO EL-DORADO CHAPTER II. HOW THE HORSES FED AT ZARAN CHAPTER III. WHAT DE SOTO HAD TO TELL CHAPTER IV. ACROSS THE RAMPARTS OF EL-DORADO CHAPTER V. THE OPEN GATE CHAPTER VI. IN THE CITY OF THE INCA CHAPTER VII. HOW DE SOTO PERFORMED HIS EMBASSY CHAPTER VIII. THE COMING OF ATAHUALLPA CHAPTER IX. “FOR GOD AND SPAIN!” BOOK III. CHAPTER I. AN INCA’S RANSOM CHAPTER II. THE INFAMY OF FILIPILLO CHAPTER III. “WILT THOU BE INCA OR SLAVE?” CHAPTER IV. HOW MAMA-ZULA DARED THE ORDEAL CHAPTER V. TO THE CITY OF THE SUN CHAPTER VI. THE RETURN OF MANCO CHAPTER VII. DE SOTO’S AUDIENCE CHAPTER VIII. SENTENCE OF DEATH CHAPTER IX. “SACRIFICE! SACRIFICE!” BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. A PAGE OF HISTORY CHAPTER II. NAHUA’S OATH CHAPTER III. THE HOUR OF TRIAL CHAPTER IV. A GENTLEMAN OF SPAIN CHAPTER V. AT THE FORTRESS GATE OF YUCAY CHAPTER VI. “WE HAVE SWORN!” CHAPTER VII. FRIENDS THOUGH FOES CHAPTER VIII. THE OATH OF THE BLOOD CHAPTER IX. THE BATTLE OF THE VALLEY CHAPTER X. BELEAGUERED CHAPTER XI. ST. JAGO’S DAY CHAPTER XII. THE FIGHT FOR THE FORTRESS EPILOGUE ENDNOTES PROLOGUE. THE LINE OF FATE The morning of the Twentieth of October, in the Year of Grace Fifteen Hundred and Twenty-seven, broke, as many another morning had done, slowly and most drearily over a little desolate island, a mere tract of sand-fringed rock, sparsely sprinkled with a few dwarf shrubs and scattered trees, lying some five leagues from the Pacific coast of Northern South America, which in those days was called Tierra Firma, and about two degrees to the northward of the Line.