Vincente De Valverde

“Come out, Christians! Come at these enemy dogs who reject the things of God!

I think it is fair to say that I have a morbid, fascination with a period of history that the Spanish of the time described as the “Age of Exploration” or, more formally, the divinely sanctioned, royally chartered conquest and acquisition of “New Spain.” Today, however, we are far more honest in how we describe it. The brutal genocide of millions of Indigenous peoples across the Americas, carried out in the name of Christianity and in pursuit of gold.

My interest in this period largely stems from trying to imagine what it must have been like to be an Incan farmer or an Aztec market trader when the Spanish first appeared on the shores of their world. Life in the so called “New World” could not have been more different from that of Europe. Warfare alone shows this contrast. In Central and South America, conflict was fought with cotton armour, slings, clubs, and spears, and without cavalry. The largest domesticated animal available was the llama, which would be pretty crap in battle let’s face it. For us in the modern era, attempting to imagine the terror of encountering Spanish soldiers for the first time, clad in steel armour and armed with swords, muskets, cannons, horses, and trained war dogs, is almost beyond comprehension.

So, for the three people unfortunate enough to have read my previous rambling on La Malinche, in which I gave a brief overview of the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs, consider this a part two. As history tells us, the Spanish were not satisfied with the destruction of the Aztec Empire and the annihilation of one of the most extraordinary cities of the ancient world, Tenochtitlán. Their ambitions soon shifted southward, along the western coast of South America into what is now Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, and Colombia toward another great civilization. The Inca Empire.

So I’ll start in 1528, in Toledo, Spain, with a meeting between two men. One is King Charles I of Spain. The other is Francisco Pizarro, a distant cousin of our old mate Hernán Cortés. Pizarro sought royal permission to conquer a little understood but reportedly vast and wealthy empire in South America. Inspired by Cortés’s exploits in Central America just seven years earlier, Pizarro promised to raise a force of 250 conquistadors, sail to the New World, subjugate the empire in the name of Spain, and extract as much gold and silver as possible.

Pizarro had already visited the region twice on unofficial expeditions, but heavy losses to hostile Indigenous groups, brutal weather, and dwindling supplies had prevented him from reaching the Inca heartland. But he wanted another crack. This time, he knew he needed a royal charter, one that would grant him legitimacy, resources, and better arms. With Cortés’s so called success still fresh in memory, Charles agreed. Pizarro was officially declared Governor of Peru and granted authority to conquer the Incas.

The king was sceptical. Pizarro was nowhere near as intelligent, politically astute, or diplomatically skilled as Cortés. He was, however, more aggressive, confrontational, and ruthless. Traits that history would show were more than sufficient when paired with European weaponry and being an absolute bastard. Charles risked only ships, supplies, and weapons, knowing that if Pizarro succeeded, 20 percent of the spoils would flow directly to the Spanish crown. In 1532, Pizarro set sail and eventually landed on the northern coast of modern day Peru.

The empire he intended to conquer was vast and sophisticated. The Inca Empire was a multi ethnic state spanning much of western South America. Originating as a small highland kingdom, it expanded rapidly under rulers such as Pachacuti. The empire possessed complex systems of administration, infrastructure, agriculture, political organization, and religious belief, entirely distinct from anything in Europe. It was an absolute monarchy ruled by one man. Atahualpa, the Sapa Inca, considered divine by his people.

Yet Atahualpa ruled over a weakened empire. A brutal civil war with his half brother, combined with the devastating spread of smallpox, had left the empire fractured and vulnerable. Although he had heard rumours of pale skinned foreigners obsessed with gold, he could not have anticipated the catastrophe that awaited him.

Pizarro sent word requesting a meeting with Atahualpa in the town of Cajamarca. The following day, the royal procession entered the town’s plaza. The Sapa Inca was carried on a ceremonial throne, accompanied by some 6,000 unarmed Inca warriors. To Atahualpa’s surprise, only a single man stepped forward to greet him. Vincente de Valverde, a Dominican friar from Seville.

Carrying a crucifix in one hand and a Bible in the other, Valverde addressed Atahualpa by proclaiming the Christian faith and asserting Spanish authority. He explained that there was one true God, that Jesus Christ had granted dominion over the world to Saint Peter and his successors, the popes, and that the pope had, in turn, bestowed these lands upon King Charles V of Spain. Valverde demanded that Atahualpa accept Christianity and submit to Spanish rule. It is difficult to imagine a more arrogant or grotesque opening statement, especially when trying to make a half decent first impression with literally the most powerful man in South America.

Anyways, Valverde then presented the Bible to Atahualpa, expecting immediate submission. The emperor had no clue what a bible was, and why Valverde seems obsessed with it. He rejected the book and threw it aside. Valverde, supposedly a man of religious temperance, went ballistic.

What followed was a massacre. The Spanish emerged from there hiding places and Cannons fired into the densely packed Inca crowd as Spanish cavalry charged forward, cutting down anyone in their path. Terrified by the explosions and the sight of horses, unknown beasts to them, the Incas fled toward the plaza’s narrow exits, making slaughter easier for the Spanish. Within minutes, Atahualpa’s entire personal guard was annihilated. The emperor himself was taken prisoner. Valverde, having successfully provoked the bloodshed, played no role in restraining it.

Knowing of the Spaniards’ obsession with gold, Atahualpa offered a ransom. One room filled with gold and two with silver in exchange for his life. Treasure poured in from across the empire to pay the ransom and Pizarro melted it down into ingots, an amount estimated today to be worth about $400 million. Despite holding up his end of the deal, Atahualpa was later accused of plotting rebellion.

The once mighty Sapa Inca was dragged into the town centre and tied to a stake. Once again, Valverde appeared, eager to involve himself at the most grotesque moment. He offered the emperor a choice. Accept baptism or be burned alive. For Atahualpa, being burned would mean his soul could not reach the afterlife. Faced with this he accepted baptism. Moments later, a Spanish conquistador was summoned and strangled the emperor in front of his horrified subjects. Valverde had ensured that the emperor’s final moments were spent not in dignity, but in humiliation.

With Atahualpa’s execution in 1533, the Inca Empire rapidly unravelled. Leaderless and divided, the Incas were unable to mount a unified resistance. Pizarro exploited existing fractures, capturing key cities including Cuzco within months. Although a major revolt led by Manco Inca Yupanqui erupted in 1536, it was ultimately crushed. Disease, internal strife, superior Spanish weaponry, and the deliberate destruction of leadership sealed the empire’s fate. By 1572, the final Inca stronghold at Vilcabamba had fallen.

As for Vincente de Valverde, his later life was remarkably unremarkable. He did not ride off into history cloaked in glory. Instead, he faded into obscurity, becoming just another colonial administrator and missionary. For a man who played such a central role in the destruction of an empire, his end was fittingly dull. While the conquest is remembered primarily as Pizarro’s story, Valverde’s role was indispensable. At Cajamarca, he demonstrated that arrogance, and religious authority could be as lethal as steel and gunpowder. His Bible and crucifix were not symbols of salvation, but tools of conquest, wielded with chilling effect on the Inca people.