Below, a long way below her, is a prostrate and silent crowd. On the porphyry steps which stretch down to this crowd stand the three Guardians of the Temple. A step below them, Huascar, his arms crossed under his red poncho. Lower still, four prostrate Red Ponchos, who are the Guards of the Sacrifice. Their heads, completely hidden by the sacred bonnet and ear-caps, are bent so low that none can see their faces.
Surely there is somebody in that huge crowd who will free her! Maria-Teresa, filled with a wild hope, rises with the child in her arms, and cries for mercy. But the booming answer takes away all hope. “Muera la Coya! Muera la Coya! To death with the Queen!” They give her the title in Aïmara, but clamor for her death in Spanish, that she may understand.
The four mammaconas on her right, the four others on her left and the two who were to die with her surrounded the young girl, forced her back to her seat. But she still struggled, holding up the boy, and begging that he at least might be spared.
“He is the sacrifice of Pacahuamac,” came the answer. And the mammaconas, taking up the echo, chanted: “The sacrifice of Pacahuamac! Before all things began, before the Sun and before the Moon, his sister, was the Great Spirit, Pacahuamac. Pacahuamac, the Great Spirit!”
Down below there, the surging crowd took up the cry. Huascar, turning, commanded silence with a gesture.
They were all standing now, except the four Red Ponchos on the last step; still prostrate and silent. The cry of the quenias rose again, strident and shrill; soon they alone were to be heard. Maria-Teresa, crushed, conquered, had ceased struggling. Not a voice, not a sign, had answered the appeal. In a groan, she begged the mammaconas for their perfumes. “Have mercy. Bring your perfumes. Then we shall not suffer.” The two who were to die with her shook their heads. “We must go to Atahualpa waking, with all our hearts and all our senses, that heart and senses may live hereafter.”
The quenia players ceased their music, and a terrible, gripping silence descended on the hall. The faithful fell to their knees, and Huascar’s sonorous voice commanded silence.
“Silence! Silence in the House of the Serpent! The dead King is coming! Listen!”