Machu Picchu: A Fictional Account
Philip shares a journal entry based on his readings and visit to Machu Picchu. The Spanish conquistadors never found the royal retreat and city at Machu Picchu, but this story imagines just such an encounter.
The rainforest steamed all around them as they followed Pumatec, their translator and guide, up the muddy path. Felipe slipped, his Spanish-made helmet clanging loudly against the stone staircase. As he bent to retrieve it, he looked back at his ragged band of conquistadores.
They numbered only 22 in all, with one of the men sick and another nursing an injured leg. They were low on food, down to eating maize and dried papas. Their once-shiny armor and weaponry now appeared rusted and caked with mud. It had been months since they had left Cajamarca, where Pizarro held Atahualpa captive.
They carried on, pushing up the exhausting slope little by little, dreaming of the gold and silver Pumatec had promised they would find on top of the mountain. The heat was punishing. Felipe tried to remain upbeat even though the mosquitos were eating them alive and the rocks bruised their elbows and the vines blistered their hands. It was as if the earth were doing everything in its power to keep them from reaching the summit. It would be dark soon, he knew, but the last thing he needed was a puma attack on one of his sentries. They would have to try and make it before nightfall.
As he hacked away at a particularly irksome tangle of vines, he began to wonder if Pumatec was leading them on a fool’s errand, or worse, an ambush. The peak wasn’t as high as others in the surrounding valley, but the dense overgrowth of the high jungle made the going slow. Pumatec nevertheless insisted that a great city, built for Pachacuti, lay at the peak — and, with it, a vast storehouse of gold and silver.
Felipe reminded Pumatec that should his band be led into danger, astray or on a fruitless mission, Atahualpa would suffer. Felipe knew how much the Incas revered that man. Atahualpa was a god to them, a human-bound deity as important as the Earth, Sun and Sky. Pumatec wouldn’t lie, he felt confident.
In his gut, however, Felipe was still suspicious. His childhood days in the Extremadura region of Spain had taught him to be suspicious. Never trust a man you do not understand, he thought quietly. He truly did not understand the natives and their idolatry.
He fingered the iron cross necklace he was wearing as he took a break from the climb to examine the Urubamba River far below. It snaked through the mountains, swallowing boulders the size of wagons, its cool waters supplying the jungle with life and refreshment. What he would give for a little bit of that water now.
Pumatec, farther up the path, let out a cry. They were almost there. Grimacing, Felipe got to his feet and signaled to his men to continue on. He had yet to figure out how they were going to get the gold out of the city. He pushed the thought out of his mind. First things first, he reminded himself.
When they reached the city gate, the golden sun was still barely escaping the clutches of the mountains. The city glowed and shimmered. Felipe couldn’t believe his eyes. The city was set between two peaks, one taller than the other, both of them eclipsed by a snow-capped behemoth far away. Its terraces were full of crops, and people flowed through streets alongside sophisticated water canals. The thatched roofs sat atop expertly constructed stone buildings. Some cuts of stone were taller than two men, lofted and placed high in the walls as if they were mere bales of hay.
The men entered the city to find a welcoming reception. Men and women of high ranking led them through the crowd that was forming — most of the natives had never seen a white man before. Felipe was told by Pumatec that the authorities were leading them to the Sun Temple, where they would speak with the warden of the city.
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Note from Philip: I was going to finish the story but I ended up going to the fountain and light show in downtown Lima with my family, which was awesome!