The Journal

Posted by Kimnikki on October 27, 2004 at 08:04:49:

A quick author's note:

I've said many times that I find much of my inspiration for stories from my love of history. I had a sudden inspiration for this story from a picture I saw ... one of those quick flash sort of things that you flesh out later. I had dropped this one for quite a while, then a pleasant surprise reminded me of the subject matter and I decided it was high time to finish it.

I managed to get it done fairly quickly ... I even got a real thrill out of writing it. Perhaps my muse if finally back even with how tired I am. Perhaps Barbanne's has come to visit me after allowing her to rest for a bit.

Doesn't much matter, I just hope the muse sticks around for a bit. It felt so good to get back to writing again.

The timing of the subject matter in this is not ideal. There has been far too much political and religious fighting on this board in the last year or so.

But I also refuse to totally bow down to PC correctness, especially when it is only a fantasy story, and when similar incidents did occur in reality during the 1640's and 50's as the last vestiges of the great Inca Empire and their culture were totally stamped out by The Church and the Spanish and Portuguese. I actually did a bit of research for this story, and found some surprising differences between the religious rites of the Central and Southern North-American natives and those of the South American continent, the Inca's in particular.

There were many radicals from Europe in South and Central America ... both what we would call today extreme left and right wing. Many were young noblemen whose prejudices were too extreme even for that era, or Inquisitors who were so radical that they had begun to question the policies of The Pope and all the crown heads of Europe. Afraid to make martyrs out of the priests and too much in need of the support of the noble families, the various popes and kings would give these brutish men "missions" in the New World. This group were responsible for the vast majority of the horrors perpetrated on the natives, and the systematic destruction of their cultures and their religions.

But many were priests who protested the excesses of the Inquisition in Spain. Those who had enough power (financial or political) that the Inquisition could not punish them were "promoted" and then sent off to South America to get them out of Europe. Of course this only proved to move the problem, as they then protested the treatment of the Inca's by the Conquistadors. It is mainly through the tolerance (and the will to learn about new ways and peoples) of these priests, mostly Jesuits, that we know of the Incan ways before the conquest.

While this story is totally my own creation, I hope I've managed to find some of the tone, flavour and feelings of that magnificent and long lost culture, and the spirit of the few Westerners who actually went to learn, rather than destroy.

And as always, I hope you all enjoy it.

Hugs
Kimnikki

Text of a letter attached to a small diary sent to the Holy See by Don Ezequias Pannefrio y Modestez, Audiencia de Lima, Viceroyalty of Peru.

"Your Holiness, this small journal was found placed on the alter of a small church on the outskirts of Cuzco. Obviously it was left there to be found, most probably by some courageous native loyal to the Mother Church, though a few have suggested that it may have been left as a sign of triumph by the savage followers of the local pagan religion. I have had it sent to you to determine the fate of young Diego and what action, if any, we should take."

"With the greatest of deference and respect, please know me to be a loyal vassal of Your Most Holy Self and of the one True Church."

CONTENTS OF SMALL JOURNAL, BOUND IN LEATHER AND WRITTEN IN LATIN

The month of August, 1640. I do not know the exact date, but I know that it is still some day in August. I will begin by saying this is day 1 of my journal. I was taken from my village posting 4 nights ago and only now have I been able to persuade my friend Pachacutec to allow me my writing tools. I will only be able to write for a short while when we rest and when the weather allows and so this journal may be somewhat piecemeal. As my story unfolds I hope that any who read this understand.

I have never before kept a journal, believing that to do such was to be guilty of the sins of pride and vanity. But I now write this small journal in the hopes that someday some brother of my Order or other Christian soul may read my words and know of my fate, whatever it may prove to be. I also write this as confession, as it seems unlikely that I may meet any other brother of Christ here in these wild lands to shrive my soul. It has been said to be heresy to believe such, but I am sure in my soul that so long as my words are true and without dissemblance, then God will forgive my sins, even if there is no priest here to listen to them.

So ... to begin. My name is Diego Christobal Gallegos, and I am a priest and brother in The Society of Jesus, better known to those outside our order as Jesuits. I find myself in this place in this predicament by what I can only believe is the hand of Jesus steering my fate and wishing me to bring to these poor deluded people the Truth of His words.

I am the youngest son of a craftsman ... a skilled blacksmith who specialized in good Spanish steel ... a sword maker. He would have wished me to learn his craft, he did begin to teach me. I am no craftsman as he was, but I know good steel and a fine blade when I see it. But for all my fathers wishes, at a young age I felt a calling to serve Jesus and my father, who was a good and devote Christian saw that it was the deepest wish of my soul. He saw to it that I was taken to a monastery where I found the joys of knowing Jesus through His written word and the education of my own mind to known His world.

However, I did not learn great wisdom in this process. I watched the terribly mistaken actions of the Inquisitors and could not keep my misgivings of their work to myself. I know now that such things are far beyond the understanding of one as young as myself for I am aged only six and twenty years. His Holiness showed me the error of my ways, yet seemed to think kindly that they were not the mistakes of pride or deceit but the honest feelings of my soul.

And thus he and the General of The Jesuits sent me across the salt sea to The New World to see with my own eyes that there were indeed some who need The Correction of the Holy Church and to preach to and convert those who had kind and sinless souls that had not yet heard His words.

I shall not dwell on my trip or my early days here in Peru as they are of little importance. I should note however that it may well have been this time that has brought to where I am now.

I was, and remain, appalled by the behaviour of those who claim to be serving Jesus in The New World. The things these men did to the poor natives are not words that I will put to paper, other than record that these men, many who claim to be men of God, will have to answer to the Golden Throne when at last they face God and His Son.

Again I protested, though this time sure that Jesus could not have intended such things to be done, even to the worst of evil doers. Yes, the evil and sinful must be punished, but only a creature twisted by Satan could take joy in the ways in which the poor savages were used and abused.

Don Ezequias Pannefrio Y Modestez was most displeased that I stopped his soldiers and the Domincano in their butchery. But I had a strong following among many of those who had converted to Christ, and some friends among the more Christian soldiers. I think perhaps he would have given me to the secular arm of The Church, but again Christ and God must have had other plans. There were many protests over my arrest, and so Modestez let me go. However, he sent me far from the city to a small village high in the mountains and many leagues north of Cuzco.

That was more than a year ago now ... in the early spring of the previous year.

It is time to move on my captors tell me, so I must end this journal for now.

I have always thought that God and His Son must have given me my curious nature, for without it I would never have bothered to learn the Incan tongue. But I found the flow of the language as fascinating as my native Spanish or Latin and so I studied it, and have gained some fluency in it.

And that was fortunate as there was not a single soul in my small village posting that knew any other language. My first few days were not the best of my life as the natives, it shames me as a priest to admit, had good reason to mistrust a man wearing the robes of The Church.

But they were as curious about me, a priest without soldiers to protect him, as I was with them, a village that had had so little influence from either The Church or The Conquistadors. Soon enough they began to speak with me, greatly surprised I could speak their language. They also seemed warily pleased that I wanted to learn of their ways.

I was all alone for my first mass in this place, but as the weeks passed, more and more of them would come to see what the pale stranger from far across the salt sea was doing. I had seen for myself how unlikely the tactics of the Inquisition were to work, and in any case I was all alone and could not have behaved in such a manor even if I were so inclined.

I chanted, and prayed and said mass. I sang hymns to Our Lord (though it must be noted that a mule bray is more musical than my singing) and simply sat by the small tent that served as both my church and my home.

Whenever a chance presented itself I would speak with anyone who happened by, though in the first weeks I rarely received anything more than an acknowledgement of my greetings. It was the children though, with their innocent hearts and fresh minds that finally began to speak with me. And that naturally brought out their parents to "protect" their children from the stranger in his black robes.

And as we began to talk they began to believe that I truly wanted nothing more than to bring the word of Our Lord and to learn from them.

I finally got to meet their chief, who was also their holy man. A very imposing fellow he is ... most of these folks are rather short in comparison to a European, with stubby sturdy legs well suited to the steep mountain trails of their native land. But this man, whose name I was to learn is Inti Pachacutec Huallpa, or just Pachacutec for short, was as tall as me with massive arms and chest. He has more than one scar, signs of combat which is as much a way of life for these people as it is for my own.

I was a bit surprised at the word 'Inti' in his name, for I knew by that time that Inti was the name of the greatest of these peoples gods ... their sun god in fact. But when I asked he told me that 'Inti' in a man's name was much like 'Father' in mine ... it simply denoted him as a priest.

I was soon to have yet another of my fellow Christians notions dispelled by this man. Far from an ignorant savage he proved to be an intelligent and rather witty fellow, and I soon grew to look forward to his infrequent visits.

But I was to learn the major reason for the reticence of the villagers was a small secret they were keeping ... but a rather delightful one.

Pachacutec took me for a walk to the terraced fields above the village ... the Inca's architecture and agricultural skills are second to none, no matter how strongly my fellow Europeans may feel that we are the superior.

"Father Diego you have been a welcome surprise ... if you yourself were not at first welcome to my people. You will agree that most of your fellows are not to be welcomed with open arms." We were walking to the top of the agricultural ridge as he spoke. He rarely called me "Father" any more as we had come to consider ourselves equals in our respective roles.

"Indeed Pachacutec ... to my shame and to theirs many of those from the Old World are not worthy of the name Christian."

He guided me towards one of the fields. "It was because of this that I hid one of my people from you Diego ... my adopted daughter in fact. But if you are to stay with us ... and if you truly do with to learn as I wish to learn from you then we must start to trust one another." And with that the powerfully built Incan pointed out into the fields where the harvest was being brought in.

And there was the unmistakable form of a white woman!

She was not tall for a European woman, but that still made her a full head taller than any of the other women around her. She was dressed as they, in the colourful textiles that were both functional and decorative. I could see her skin was well tanned ... she was a dark as the Inca's themselves though in a different shade. But what most marked her was the long flowing blonde hair that spilled in loose waves down her back.

"God preserve me ... she is one of my people," I said turning to Pachacutec.

"No Diego ... she is not!" This was said rather fiercely. "She is my daughter ... and she has lived with us since she was an infant."

"I meant no offence Pachacutec my friend," I assured him. His eyes were angry ... and a bit distressed.

"It was that very response Diego that made me hide her from your tax men and from you when you arrived. I have been worried since the day your people brought down the empire that someday one of your people would see my daughter and try to 'take her home'. This is her home Diego ... not your Spain." He looked very serious and I noted that his fingers were near his lethal war club.

"And I am not one of those Pachacutec. If I were to find this woman was your prisoner, than most certainly I would try to rescue her. But if she has been with your people from birth than I could no more take that poor girl to Spain than I could ask one of my sisters to be your wife." I said it with a bit of forced humour ... I was intelligent enough to know that this was a test of some sort for me.

"Then perhaps you should speak to my daughter ... and see for yourself what kind of woman she is," and with that Pachacutec called her over to us.

I must end my writing for now, as it appears time to continue our journey.

*******************************

Still August, though late in the month:

We have walked at least another 10 or 20 Spanish leagues ... though I am unable to keep accurate track as my captors still cover my eyes from time to time so that I can not judge how far or exactly where we are going. I know that we have been travelling steadily south, but beyond that I can not say.

So ... to return to my story:

The young woman was perhaps 17, perhaps 18 years of age and was clearly a white woman, not some rare Incan with blond hair. Her eyes were a lovely deep blue and her cheek bones spoke of a woman from the northern lands of Europe. Pachacutec introduced us.

"Father Diego Gallegos, this is my daughter ... Cusi." And the young woman bowed in the Incan manor, moving with grace and strength.

"Cusi? Doesn't that mean ... beloved ... beloved of the sun god?" I asked, sure I had heard the word in my and Pachacutec talks of our beliefs.

Cusi smiled delightfully ... a very pretty smile and Pachacutec gave a small laugh. He stroked his hand through the long golden tresses. "Indeed it does Diego ... do you not think it a suitable name for my child?"

All I could do was nod my acceptance that for his beliefs she was indeed blessed by the sun god with hair the color of the sun itself.

"I have wished to meet you Father Gallegos," Cusi said. I should not have been surprised that her voice and accent where those of the Andes ... of course they were ... Pachacutec had told me she had grown up here all her life.

"And I am pleased to met you as well my child. Though I must admit to being surprised to find a woman of the Old World living as one of the Inca?"

Cusi smiled that beautiful smile again, and once more Pachacutec laughed deeply. "I told you did I not my daughter of this one's curious nature." He then turned to me. "A most polite way to phase the question of how she came to be my child Diego. Come, let us take a meal together and we will satisfy your curious mind."

And so we went to take dinner. I must make my first confession of this journal in that I found it hard to keep my eyes from Cusi's beautiful face and body. It was not just that she was of the Old World and I had not seen one of my own people for many weeks, but she herself that drew my eye and quickly started some impure thoughts that I sternly reminded myself were wrong in a priest. She was not just beautiful, but she had such a joyous spirit ... one could not help but feel uplifted being near her. Through that first meal I had to remind myself several times not to stare at her.

Her story was as fascinating as it was short. Pachacutec had been part of the great Incan army that had resisted the Conquistadors when they had first invaded. He and many others had been sent by their great king to try to destroy the dockyards that our people were using to haul away their booty and to land their supplies. The Incan army had been destroyed long before Pachacutec and his companions had reached their goal and he had decided that the best choice was to return to their village and try to survive their new masters.

Many who read this will take offence at his words. I urge you all to understanding as I myself have striven for, not matter the final outcome of my fate. There is much we can learn from these people if we stop the systematic rape of their lands and their culture. Pachacutec could have continued the useless fight, killing many of our people as well as condemning his own ... it shows the quality of his leadership and his good spirit that he wishes for us to coexist.

He and his companions walked along the shore line intending to return home when they came across a wrecked European ship. In those early days there were many who tried to make illegal landings far from the control of the Spanish Empire ... and this must have been one such. The ship looked to have been ripped apart on the rocks ... there was almost nothing left.

But a single large crate had made it ashore ... and Pachacutec had heard the sound of a bawling infant from within. Inside someone, a parent or a last survivor of the wreck perhaps, had thrust Cusi ... she had be no more than one year old Pachacutec told me. He was struck instantly by her flaxen hair ... the first blond he had ever seen.

And according to his beliefs he had taken the orphaned girl as his own. He was sure that the great Inti had guided the girl to his hand ... how else could such a helpless one have survived when all others had not?

And so she had been raised by these people ever since ... her body and hair were those of the Old World, but I knew that after so long a time her heart and soul were those of the New.

Once again I must stop as it is time to move on again. The warriors who have been detailed to guard me seem fascinated by my writing. They must never have seen it before. Pachacutec has told them not to bother me, but they do watch when I write in this little book.

*******************************************

Late August or Early September: I curse myself now for never having learned the Incan calendar ... they are more than willing to tell me the date, but I do not know how to translate it into the Christian one. I know that spring is well past now, so here on the bottom of the world it is moving into September.

After my introduction to Cusi I found myself more and more in her company and her father, as well as having more and more visitors from the villagers. I found that Cusi was something very much like a Nun of these people, though that term is not precisely correct. She is, like her father, one of the religious leaders of her people though unlike our own Nuns she takes no vow of celibacy and lives with her people rather than in some cloister.

As she and her father continued their visits I found it harder and harder to keep her from my thoughts. I have been told from an early age that lustful thoughts were the devils tools and that such must always be kept from the mind of a priest. And that if one was unable to suppress devil in one's soul, then one must shrive oneself to purge the devil from your heart.

But the thoughts that came to me more and more had not that feel. Indeed I would find myself aroused by Cusi and her presence, but I also simply looked forward to seeing her and having her near me. My thoughts about her were as often (if not more often) about just having her with me for a meal, to help me improve my command of her language, to learn more from her about her life here and her people and her beliefs. I simply enjoyed her companionship in my life.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not find these thoughts impure. Oh I had lusts for her as well, and those I very sternly admonished myself against and prayed to Jesus to help me conquer. These thoughts would most often overwhelm me in the late night ... or in my dreams. But my enjoyment of just her company ... how could such be evil I thought to myself.

As one would expect with her name, her life is dedicated to the greatest of the Incan gods, their sun god Inti. As the deities of these natives are wont, Inti is rather blood thirsty god, but lacks the violence and hatred I've seen in my reading of other cultures of the Andes. He demands blood and sacrifice yes, but as Cusi and Pachacutec were to go to great lengths to point out to me, to be given to Inti is an act of respect to an enemy and an act of love if one of their own is chosen.

And it was these talks that quite often brought Cusi to speak to me. We spoke so often of her beliefs and my own that it would take a book far larger than this little journal to speak of them all. But I can remember some of those conversations and their contents.

For them, their bloody god was not evil ... far from it in fact. They did have sinister gods, even evil ones, but Inti, despite his need for blood was not. He was the great sun, the giver of life and warmth ... he who renewed the world and brought spring and then summer before his rest in the winter. His need for blood was not evil ... if was their pact with their god. He gave them life ... and in return they gave him life. A great eternal circle as they both described it to me ... they loved their god, and in proof they gave him lives and blood to help keep him strong.

It was in the late winter of my first year in the village that finally we began to argue in earnest about her gods and the Church. These talks were an excellent way to pass the time as winter kept most of us within our homes and huts. By that time I had been given a small stone hut within the village itself and visits (both simply to keep me company and to hear me speak of God and The Church) were more and more frequent.

"Diego; how can you say that your God does not love blood? All Gods love blood and yours is no different." She was sitting cross legged on my floor, her long lovely legs exposed through the skirt she was wearing. It was rather distracting from our daily luncheon debate ... and I believe that it was on purpose. The one thing I have come to see in my travels ... women are women ... no matter where they come from they can led men around by their own lusts if the man is not careful. Unlike the many of my Christian brothers, I have come to believe that that is a failing in the men themselves, and not with the women. It is their strength and out weakness.

I shook my head to get the image of how soft the skin on those legs must be out of my head in order to answer her.

"My God, the one real God, is a lover of peace and joy. He does not revel in war ... even more so his only Son who teaches us that above all other things men should strive for peace between them. All men are brothers he teaches us."

She smiled that oh so lovely yet sad smile of hers, touching my wrist. "Then how do explain what your Conquistadors have done to the empire?"

At that I couldn't help but frown and some of my anger (with those men, not with her) came out in my voice. "They are not 'my' Conquistadors my dear girl. Those men are so far from God that I was sent here because I could not stay silent, no matter who commanded it."

She gripped my wrist, and gave me that smile again. I felt things stir within me, and not just my loins. The longer I spent in her company, the harder it was becoming to still my thoughts about her. Yet I couldn't bring myself to ask her to not see me again.

"And you are not typical of your people Diego, no matter how humble you may try to be," then her smile turned crafty. "But that still does not say that your God does not love blood ... you have ... reading?"

"Read," I gently corrected her. "Reading is the present tense." There is not word for 'read' or 'writing' in the Incan language, and so they had to use my words for that, and she still sometimes struggled with what was for her an alien, if fascinating concept."

"Read then. You have read to from your book ... he revels in blood Diego. Perhaps not as much as some gods, but he does." I made to answer but she put a finger to my lips to silence me. It took far more self control that I would have thought not to kiss that finger.

"You have said mass for us many times ... and we have listened and you have told us the words. You drink the blood of your God, Diego. How can you say he does not love blood if he even gives you his to drink?"

"That is a sacrament Cusi ... not a blood letting."

That actually made her laugh. "And to us it is sacrament as well. How can you not believe that Diego? Perhaps you do not believe in the power of Inti and only in the power of your God. But you must see that when we give blood to our gods it is as much an act of worship as what you do?"

And that I was unable to deny, and said so.

"And you have read to us from ... oh ... your words are so hard sometimes ... it is called ... the Elder Testament?"

"Old Testament Cusi ... Old Testament," I corrected her gently. I had given many sermons to these people, trying to get them to be baptized and to become one with the True Church. They were good honest folk and thus deserving of the light and love of Jesus.

"Well he certainly seems to enjoy blood in that Diego ... your book is filled with far more blood than any of our tales or our gods."

And again I had no answer for her.

And here is where my second, and perhaps most damning, confession must begin. But once again it is time to move on, and I must continue this at a later date.

****************************************

We have walked for many days this time, and we have also begun to climb up into the higher peaks. I remember once hearing that the Incan trails were efficient enough to cross the length of the Andes in just 3 weeks, yet we have been on this trail for at least a month. The days grow longer and warmer and so I think perhaps we have either passed into October or are very near it and summer is truly beginning to take hold in these lands. Summer starts earlier in the turn of a year than back in Spain, and it lasts longer so it hard to judge the month accurately. Since they continue to blindfold me whenever we change to a new trail I am assuming this long convoluted trail we are walking on is so that I will never be able to find my way back without a guide.

That does not bode well I think. Jesus protect me and save my soul from what these deluded people intend for me.

And so to continue my confession:

At the point where I left off I had spent almost a full year with Cusi, Pachacutec and the rest of their people. And in that time we had spoken often of the True Church and of how wrong their beliefs were. Or at least that was my intent in those early days.

But here I must confess that as we talked more and more, Cusi's intelligent arguments began to make me have doubts that I had only whispered to myself before.

Why is it, I had to ask myself, that the Old Book and the New are so far apart? How can even God be both for and against war? How could His Son be a lover of peace ... forgive any sin if repentance were true ... yet The Father be wrathful and vengeful against those who disobey the word?

But worst of all, and my confession to this little journal, was my wondering how false their beliefs were when they held to them so strongly with such utter conviction.

How I tried to point out to them (and to myself) how different was their gods love of blood ... yet after that first long winter and many days of talking how hollow those words began to ring even to me.

"You can not say that your God does not love blood Diego ... how many of these martyrs have you told us of? How many has he let be taken by fire and cold and starvation and torture?" Pachacutec was with us this time and his passionate and intelligent voice was something I could not ignore even with Cusi's distracting presence.

"It was not God doing these things but men ... evil and corrupted men. God and His Son love peace above all else Pachacutec."

"As does Inti. He his the god of growth and life and warmth ... his face warms the world and we all bask in his love," my friend continued, his daughter nodding her agreement with him.

"But he demands lives for this Pachacutec ... lives given in direct sacrifice to him. And that I have told you God forbids. He wants worship ... not lives." And for once I had an argument that I still fervently believed in.

"No Diego," Cusi said with a sad smile. "No ... your God does demand lives ... you just will not see it as such. He has taken many of you to his side. Even you say that these martyrs go to be with Him and that they will then bask in his love." She took a bite of fruit, and I couldn't quite stop myself from watching the juice slide down her chin for a moment.

"That is different ... if men were not so evil at heart, if we were not so filled with corruption then there would be no killings, and God and his Son would be overjoyed to see that." I felt my lions stir and felt quite ashamed that I could be speaking of God yet have this beauty so distract me.

"No my friend," Pachacutec continued, "it is no different ... and while these words my hurt you ... I see it as worse. My god directly demands blood ... it is his price for his warmth and what he needs to protect and love us. It is the pact Diego: he gives us light and love and warmth ... but to do so he needs blood to keep his own strength." He looked me in the eyes as he said the next.

"But at least he does directly demand it. Yours soaks in blood Diego, all the while insisting that he would rather not do so. That is very sad Diego ... for those who give that blood to him die in pain and fear and nothing else."

"Ah ... now there I have you my friend ... those you sacrifice to Inti also die in pain and fear."

"Of course they are in pain Diego," Cusi said putting her hand to my wrist again. I noticed that she touched me more and more often as of late and I had long ago stopped protesting it. And that smile came to her face more and more often around me. God help my poor innocent self but I truly did not understand its meaning at the time, yet I did know I liked that that wonderful smile was more and more often reserved for me.

"And of course many are afraid Diego ... death is not a light thing. But to be given to Inti can also be a wonderful and wondrous thing. And those who are sacrificed at least know why they are to die Diego. Your God frightens me at times Diego ... for he often allows his believers to die without the comfort of his presence." She said this last quietly, trying not to be offending, yet speaking the truth.

I touched her cheek without thinking ... a gesture of comfort really. "But Cusi, dear girl, Inti is not there when you give someone to him. He is not real."

Both she and her father sat a bit straighter and she spoke with great conviction. "Ah no, it is you who are wrong Diego. Inti is there ... we are touched by his very hand as are those who are given to him."

And that ended the talk for that day. As I must end my writing for now ... it is time to move on once again. Pachacutec left sometime earlier today, and my guards tell me I will not see him until we get where we are going. I feel a bit bereft without my friend here ... and I still call him my friend though he helped to have me kidnapped away to whatever fate these people have planned.

*****************************************************

Even as we climb higher into the mountains as we go further south, the days grow warmer. Summer is well along now, so we must have been on this trail for several weeks and it is certainly late October now. I welcome the change for it grows quite cold in these mountains at night and the warmth of the day is very welcome. I must admit that it does allow one an excellent sleep, though my sleep is very troubled with disturbing dreams that I can not quite recall when I awake. I continue to pray to Our Lord Jesus for deliverance from these people or for the strength to face whatever it is they intend to do if I am not freed.

I wish Cusi were here. For all I would not have her lovely eyes witness something dreadful, I miss her terribly and her presence would bring much comfort. God forgive me for that weakness ... even here I can not erase her from my lusts or my heart.

By the end of my first winter with Pachacutec and his people my doubts, though never spoken aloud to them, were growing stronger. Not my faith in a great higher power ... but doubts in what I had been taught. The more I argued with Cusi and her father, and the more I learned of their own beliefs, the more and more some of the glaring contradictions in the Good Book became obvious to me. God forgive that weakness as well ... but I must confess that while my faith in Him remained strong, my faith in a Church that did the things I have seen to its flock began to make me doubt if it was what Jesus truly wanted.

But while my faith wavered, theirs seemed to hold strong. Quite often they pointed out the relative freedom from the Conquistadors and The Church they enjoyed ... the prosperity and good life they enjoyed in this village. No matter how I tried to tell them that it was how far they were from Cuzco, no matter how much I tried to tell them it was their better climate, they could not be convinced. They had kept to the old ways, and they prospered and thrived while the rest of the Incan empire had fallen, and so many of their people had perished.

And though I was not winning converts, and I was having my own doubts, more and more of the village came to my masses, and some even participated in the worship. They seemed to find familiarity in Jesus' death and resurrection. Many of them began to believe they said in my own faith, though not in the church and I was wracked by guilt for that. They still did not believe in The One True God, but they did seem to want to encompass Jesus into their own beliefs.

"Should that surprise you Diego," Cusi asked me one day when I brought it up to her. "Your Jesus faced a terrible death at the hands of dishonourable enemies. Yet he faced it with great courage, and even your own book says that his death and his blood cleansed the world of terrible things." We were walking in the high pass above the village, near the ruins of the Incan fortress that had been destroyed some 10 years before. "That is not so different from what we know to be true ... I just wish you could see that my friend." She put her hand to my arm, and I did not ask her to remove it.

"But that was a horror perpetrated by the Roman's Cusi ... not the act of joy that you claim Inti's bloodlust to be."

She gave a said smile. "Yes, your poor Jesus died an awful death ... so slow and so very painful. Yet in the end even he was happy with what that had bought those who believed in him."

I could say nothing to that, so I didn't. But that brought up an old argument between us.

"Yet you too sacrifice your enemies Cusi ... that I've seen it with my own eyes at the great temple in Cuzco." The altar in the old temple in Cuzco is so stained with blood that the black basalt has been permanently stained red. Just after my arrival one of the Conquistadors men, a black hearted swine who raped and murdered a young girl of the city, had been found bent across the altar with his heart cut out. It was the revenge that Don Ezequias Pannefrio Y Modestez had taken on the local people that had led to my opposing him and to my banishment to Cusi's village.

She stopped me and turned me to look in her eyes. It took a small effort to actually listen to her words and not just fall into those beautiful dark blue orbs. "Yes Diego ... but that was punishment ... not worship. Yes he was sacrificed, but as a punishment and that is very different. You punish criminals do you not?"

Of course we did, and I admitted so to her. "Yet you do sacrifice your enemies on your altars ... your father has told me that himself, as have you."

"Yes we do Diego ... but only the best of them ... only the bravest and most honourable of our enemies are so chosen. Just as it is the most beautiful and worthy of our own people who are chosen to give their lives and their blood to the great sun." As always when she said 'great sun', if it was visible in the sky, she turned for a moment to face the blazing orb. I had long ago come to accept that while I might believe her worship to be primitive superstition, she loved her god with as much passion and strength as I did mine.

On the trail below us I could see Pachacutec climbing to join us. "I believe you when you say that you think it to be a great honour my dear, but surely you can't think that those who go to the altar and go under that knife think it an honour?"

"Of course they do Diego. It is the highest respect that we can pay an enemy. And as for those of our own who are chosen ... Diego ... there is nothing greater for us than to be given to Inti. I can think of nothing you have told us in your world that equals it Diego. The ... respect ... the admiration ... the sheer joy that our people see in one who is given ... I don't know the words really to tell of something we all know from our littlest days. To be chosen to die for ones people, to be given to the great sun ... Diego my friend ... there is no greater way for our people to say how much they respect another than to ask them to give their life to Inti."

Her words rang with conviction ... and I couldn't help but respect it. Was it not the greatest honour of my life when my fellow Jesuits elevated me to the priesthood? When they believed me to be worthy of their number? But still one thing bothered me greatly.

"But still they would rather live, wouldn't they?"

And this returned the sad, beautiful smile to her face. "Of course they would Diego, especially our enemies. But still it is an honour to be chosen."

I touched her cheek again, loving the soft feel of the skin there. "Then my dear, my sweet friend, it is not right ... to take one against their will." And this time I felt I finally felt that I had her.

But she looked truly surprised, and a voice from behind me sounded just as stunned. "Whoever said that they are not willing? Whatever gave you that impression?" It was Pachacutec, who had reached us quickly with his long powerful stride.

I looked from one to the other ... and saw their surprise was genuine. How could that be I asked myself? "But ... well ... you take them to the altar ... you kill them ... Pachacutec, my friend, surely you can't tell me that even your enemies go willingly to such a fate?"

They looked at each other, puzzled and confused. "Diego ... of course they do. Only criminals are ever taken to the Black Mirror against their will ... and they are NEVER given to Inti. He despises criminals ... he only wants the best of those we have to give him. Only the blood of the finest we have to give." Pachacutec looked stunned ... as if I'd told him that I could fly by flapping my arms.

"But ... but Cusi ... you just told me ... you agreed that they would rather live!"

"Well ... of course they would Diego ... but ... but wanting to live, and NOT being willing to die are two different things ... surely you know this?" Cusi looked as confused as her father.

And then it struck me ... in all our arguments ... in nearly a year of preaching the Good Book and of them telling me of their faith, I had never assumed anything other than their sacrifices were forced victims.

And just as obviously ... they had assumed I believed they were not.

They looked at each other, and Pachacutec began to speak again, obviously struggling for words. "But Diego ... your Christ ... he didn't want to die did he? He even begged your God not to take him didn't he?"

Which was true, and I said so.

"Then ... then how can you not understand? He didn't want to die Diego ... but he knew it could not be avoided. You have told how he was ashamed of his weakness and his fear ... yet still he had the courage to go to his enemies. He even forgave them Diego. That is why I thought you understood us ... of all your people."

Cusi took my arm, and there was great concern in her eyes. "My dear friend ... surely you can see ... if someone is chosen they would rather see many more summers ... but if they are given such an honour that they can see the great joy in it ... that they would go." She gripped my arm hard. "Just as your Christ went because he knew his life would save your people, so do those who go to the altar."

I did not know what to say ... I just didn't have the words.

Pachacutec put a hand to my shoulder. "Diego, I give you my word as one priest to another ... as one believer to another ... that never once have I taken anyone to the altar that was not willing to go except for criminals."

And that, as it always did, brought silence between us for a few moments. The one thing that I had not been able to reconcile myself to was that this intelligent man and his beautiful daughter had participated in their bloodthirsty ceremonies. That this man I had come to respect and call friend... that the woman who's company I enjoyed above all others ... had murdered their fellow Incas ... many times.

I had never be able to hide how much this disturbed me ... nor had they ever been able to hide how much my disapproval of this hurt their feelings.

It was finally Cusi who spoke again.

"Diego, my friend ... please ... when you first came here we were so worried that you would be like all the others we have heard of and the few we have met. But you showed a curious and open mind ... one that truly believes in your Book and your Word yet is willing to listen. One who wants to sway with faith and conviction instead of fire and the sword."

She touched my arm once again.

"Why is it that this of all things you condemn so strongly?"

I touched her face once more ... a way of letting her know I did not hate her. "Cusi, dear girl ... you murder people on your black altar ... on your Black Mirror ... I do not despise you for it." I took a deep breath and looked into Pachacutec's eyes as well. "But my God tells me that I must judge you for it."

Pachacutec sighed heavily before speaking. "But it is not murder ... I would condemn such as strong as you and your God do Diego. It is sacrifice ... and even your book says that that is different."

"How can you say that to me? How can you say that even your enemies go to the altar willingly?"

"Because just as the blood and lives of sacrifice give power and life to Inti, so does the sacrifice of an enemy do the same for their people. And it buys their followers their lives ... just as your Christ gave his life for HIS followers."

I frowned at this, and Cusi seeing an opening quickly followed her father's statement. "We are not the Aztecs Diego." At that name, her father's face set in disgust and he spat once hard on the ground.

"Aztecs?" I asked?

"Your people have not yet encountered them ... at least not that any of yours have told us. They butcher their enemies Diego ... any warrior, from the cowards to the bravest of the brave are butchered on their manmade stone mountains." Pachacutec spat again. "THEY are your murderers Diego ... they kill all and any who come their way. We have heard tales of the ground being so soaked in blood that it turns to mud and nothing can grow around the foot of those stone mountains."

I had never heard of these Aztecs, but if Pachacutec, who practiced blood rites thought of them as bloodthirsty murderers then they must be quite a monstrosity.

"But I do not understand ... you do take your enemies as well. You just said so." The slight tension that had risen between us was fading now in the old and familiar arguments which we had spent a year discussing.

"Diego ... when we take one of our enemies it is always with the understanding that any others that were captured with him are set free. His blood price buys their lives."

I looked from one to the other. Again, in all our talks this had never come up ... but that was perhaps my fault because I had so rarely been able to bring myself to ask my friends any details of what I could only see as their murdering ways.

"Diego, you have told us that the Jesuits you are a part of can be a fighting order ... that you have at times been the warriors of your church. Isn't a leader, or the best warrior among you if that leader is slain, responsible for the lives of those he leads?" Pachacutec said quietly but with some passion now that he could see I was listening once again.

"Yes ... a leader is responsible for his men ... or at least should be," I finished thinking of Don Ezequias.

"Then why can't you believe that if he knew his blood and life would buy his followers lives ... and that we were honouring his courage and nobleness that he wouldn't do so willingly?"

I couldn't find an immediate answer to that, and Cusi stepped in when I did not speak.

"As I said Diego ... yes he would rather live, but if by his death he can gain something greater than himself ... why would he not go? No soldier wants to die Diego ... he hopes to live ... but he also is prepared to die if he must."

I had no answer ... they had me and we all knew it. I had only the Good Book to tell me that what they did was evil and wrong and unjust ... and I had not been able to get them to see it. By their own morals and ethics ... by their own religious beliefs, what they did was right and just and even something that was moral and could even be called 'good'.

I could not bring myself to call my friends evil, yet no matter how hard I tried I could not get them to see and believe Gods word and know that what they did was so terribly misguided. Once again, I must confess, that as priest and missionary I was failing in my mission.

And again this appears to be a good place to stop as our meal is ready. I hope to resume soon.

************************************************

Late November or perhaps even early December, I am still unable to say. The days grow warmer and warmer still.

I remember very vividly that last conversation I wrote of ... as it was a point of understanding for me. They did not see their actions as evil ... they truly saw taking the life of another as an honour and a wondrous thing to do to someone. Yes the 'victim' would be afraid and in pain ... yet to them the victim knew he were ensuring his peoples future.

And worse for me ... I was having great trouble even convincing myself that they were evil. Both of them were very good leaders of their people of their flock. Pachacutec was an intelligent and kind leader. His people genuinely respected him ... that had been obvious from the start. And he had managed somehow to steer a course around the great upheaval that the end of the Incan Empire had caused. His people were healthy and prosperous and living for the most part free of the Conquistadors and of the influence of the Mother Church.

He believed very strongly that because he had kept the pack with Inti, that because they still practiced the blood rites, his village had been protected and guarded from all the horrors my fellow Spaniards were visiting on the rest of Peru.

He had even argued with me more than once that it was his and his peoples faith and the pact they kept with Inti that had brought ME here. He believed that Inti had seen into my heart and my open mind and sent someone who would try to win THEIR hearts and souls with words and faith and my love of my own God.

"Any other priest Diego," he told me when I pressed him to explain, "would have brought soldiers in their metal shells and burned and tortured my people." Then he smiled at me and clapped a hand to my shoulder, a familiar gesture between us now. "And even Inti could not keep your people totally from our lands ... and so he sent you. A good and kind man ... one who could learn of us even as we learned from you that not all Spaniards were men of utter evil."

I tried, oh how I tried to convince him that it was not Inti but my own words that sent me to his village. That to my own people I was a nuisance and a bother and that that was why I was sent to the village ... that his village, so far from other Europeans, was supposed to be a punishment. That only served to make his own convictions stronger ... I was the one man who might understand, and so Inti made me protest and THAT was why I was sent here.

I opened my mouth to protest that is was all coincidence, that it was his villages isolation that had kept them safe, that the blood he gave, the lives he took were a waste and a sin ... but at that moment Cusi entered the argument.

"Besides Diego ... if you truly believe in the justness and love of your God how can you be sure that HE didn't guided you here? Perhaps He has seen into our hearts and seen that we are without all this sin you speak so endlessly of."

I stared at her, unable to speak. She smiled at me, and my face flushed as she did, my thoughts once again become very un-priestly.

"If you believe in your God as strongly as we do ours, and I very much believe your faith to be true Diego, then perhaps it is time for you to wonder why he would put you here, yet not once allow you to convert one of us to your faith." She smiled again and stepped from my hut, as did her father, leaving me to some very troubled thoughts.

I did wonder ... and a small still voice within me began to whisper to me ... a voice I have heard very often since then. It told me that they could very well be right ... that perhaps God wanted me to learn some great lesson in this place. But what he could possible intend me to learn when the words in His book and what had been told all my life told me that these good, kind people were the worst of sinners?

That question has kept me up many a night. Surely He would strike all these folk down if they were the evil I believed them to be? Even now, with these men taking me away to some fate that I know not, I wonder what God has in store for me.

**********************************************************

I know now that we have travelled far south. In the far distance last night I could see a great many lights and I knew that it must be Cuzco in the far distance, seen though the passes. It should not have taken so long to come this far south ... they have indeed been taking a mixed route. I do not know if this is to mislead me if I try to escape (though they watch far too carefully for that to happen) or if there is some other purpose. My guards, who all treat me with the greatest respect will answer nearly any question, but about how far we have to go, where we are going or what I am being taken for they will simply not answer.

High summer is here now ... I am sure it is December now. I think perhaps I would be far more afraid of what may await me, but I have seen such beautiful vistas that my mind is filled with the beauty of God's creation to the point it chases many other things away. In those times when my blindfold is removed the scenery from the paths we are taking is breathtaking, and the stars at night are so brilliant that I am often able to write in this journal by them, as I am doing now.

The winter was long that first year, and spring was very welcome. As I was living with them now I willingly helped my flock prepare the fields and helped them plant the first crops. I did not do it to win friends ... I too must eat ... but win many admirers I did. I became less and less an outsider, and more and more part of their community, though an odd one to be sure. Slowly, these strange folk became my friends, not just Pachacutec and his beautiful adopted child.

I even agreed with Pachacutec that knowledge of Cusi must be kept from my fellow Europeans. When the tax-collector came after the passes finally opened I made no mention of her, and made sure that he was kept busy counting the gold that he was there to collect. I also kept my flock safe from his other lust when he wanted one of the pretty young women of the village. He had only brought 10 soldiers with him, and they were quite unwilling to fight for him when I told them that if they laid a single hand on any of my flock that I would excommunicate each and every one of them.

(I had of course once more thought with my heart rather than my head, and at that time worried greatly what the reaction of Don Ezequias Pannefrio Y Modestez would be when he heard of me "interfering" once again. That is quite humorous now given that I have been taken far from any place he would think to look for me and that he and his rapacious soldiers are my one hope of rescue from my oh so careful guardians)

After that incident the friendship between myself and Pachacutec grew stronger than ever and Cusi looked upon me with eyes that held great respect as well as friendship. I must admit that I liked that look a good deal. It also served to finally cement my becoming one of the community. More and more they would come to my masses and more and more often they joined in some of the ceremony. And I must admit that more and more I began to feel like their father and priest, as part of this village rather than a roving Jesuit who would someday return home. More and more, the village became my home as well.

But still I was unable to convince any of them, let alone Cusi and her father, that they should give up their belief in their gods, especially Inti, and allow me to baptise them. They were always polite and had great respect for my own faith, but still I could not bring any souls in The Church.

And I still feel that this was much my fault, for my own faith in The Church was wavering more and more. Oh not in God ... that remained and still remains the true calling of my soul. Yet more and more, as I saw how happy and prosperous these people were, I began to question what The Church told me of God.

May He forgive my weakness. I pray that He has not abandoned me to this fate for that weakness and that He does have some plan in this enforced trip south and up into the mountains.

And my greatest weakness in all of this, I must further confess, was Cusi. For more and more I was beginning to think of her as a man of the cloth should never feel. It was not just lust, though there was that, but more and more she touched my heart and soul ... filled me with delight whenever she was with me. My heart and soul should be for God and His Son and for them alone ... but I must confess that by the end of that second spring, earlier this year, she too had a place there.

And I very nearly doomed myself, and her, one very fine day in the late spring when once again we tried to save each other's souls, as Cusi had come to call our mutual talks of faith and of God.

We were walking the path up to the ruined fort again, a favourite place for these talks. I must confess that this day it was very hard for me to put down the sin of lust, for in this warmer weather Cusi was wearing only a colourful skirt. The sight of her breasts and the health and strength of her body, her long hair blowing sunlight cascades behind her, had me most woefully forgetting that I was a priest.

We were arguing once again about how willingly those to be sacrificed came to their fates, both those of her people and of Jesus himself on the night the Roman's came for him.

"Well the one thing we seem to agree on is that no matter who is to be taken that they must await their death with fear and trepidation." I said to her, tying to keep my eyes polite as we walked.

"Oh indeed Diego ... it is a fearful thing to be sacrificed ... but it is such a distinction as well. Your Jesus saved your entire people Diego with his death. Though such a terrible death ... your Roman's must have been a truly terrible people." Cusi had often shown sighs of great sympathy with Christ and what the Roman's had done to him.

"Yet you give pain to those who are taken ... even the sharpest blade gives great pain if it is thrust deeply,' I said gently. At some point I can not name I had passed beyond condemning them for their blood rites and simply tried to understand how these otherwise kind and noble people could believe in what they did, and do the things they do. Though we still rarely spoke directly about it I could now accept the knowledge she had participated in these rites without it stopping our talks.

"Yes Diego ... it does hurt ... greatly. It must ... if were only pleasurable, if the one being given did not have to show worth with their pain and their courage and their strength then how could they be worthy of giving their blood to Inti."

I would have spoken, but she put her fingers to my lips again. "And do not try to say that it is then the same. Jesus died in fear and agony ... it took so very long Diego. Those who come to the Black Mirror know pain ... but soon that pain is gone and then they are taken into Inti's arms."

"Still dear one, they die in pain and fear," I replied.

She turned to look at me fully, and my breath caught at her beauty, her lovely hair billowing in the wind as the warm wind caressed her nearly nude figure. She seemed to considering something for awhile, then nodded and spoke very gently.

"Some do Diego ... some do ... and that is very sad. But there are many, a great many, who know far far more than pain and fear my friend."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not understand what she meant.

Again she was silent for a moment then spoke, her voice soft. "Many pass beyond the pain Diego ... many know the joy of being given to Inti ... the joy of surrendering all they are ... the joy of giving their lives to their god ..." she took a deep breath, and then finished her words. "The joy of death itself Diego."

I stood silent for sometime, not believing her words yet seeing that conviction in her eyes that was always there when she spoke of her god.

"Cusi ... you ... you can't mean to tell me that they take ... pleasure ... in being sacrificed," I asked.

She stepped closer, putting her hand on my wrist again. "That is exactly what I mean Diego."

I could not speak immediately ... I simply could not believe it. "Cusi ... I do believe that you think that they take," and she stopped me with a finger to my lips again before I could finish.

"No ... no do not tell me that I only believe it." Her hand closed a bit harder on my wrist. "I have seen it Diego ... with my own eyes."

I was again silent for several moments then finally managed to speak. "How ... how can they take ... joy ... in being killed?"

"Because there are many Diego ... many that father has not told you of for fear of your reaction ... many who GIVE themselves to Inti Diego. Who when they are chosen, not only go willingly into his arms, but with joy and ... excitement."

She turned away from me, looking out over the mountains, though her eyes seemed even further away than the high peaks she was looking at.

"Diego ... imagine that you knew you were going to meet your God. That he was taking you to the Golden Throne you speak of so often. Think of how beautiful a thing that would be ... how exciting and thrilling it would be to know that with every fibre of your being." Her hand moved from my wrist to take my hand, and the other I saw moved over her own abdomen ... it drew my eyes like a moth to a flame.

"And ... think of the thrill Diego ... of giving all you are ... allowing one to take you and ... and put the blade within you."

"Thrill?" I asked in a whisper, watching her fingers move more and more on her skin, sliding higher towards her breasts.

"It ... it is very beautiful Diego. The world fills with Inti's beautiful golden light ... and the blade itself is very beautiful Diego ... given to us by Inti's hands. And if the one ... the one being given to Inti ... oh how to explain this to you?" She turned to me for a moment, and when she did I noticed that the nipples of her breasts were now quite hard. I had to swallow a sudden lump in my throat.

"Oh Diego ... imagine that blade sinking within you ... oh yes it would hurt ... hurt so very much ... yet it would be such a wonder ... to know ... to know that you were dying yet not yet dead ... that you knew your death was coming, that it was not sickness, not old age ... but an act of your will, and the utter respect and love of all those you know and love."

Her hand squeezed mine harder, and the other moved to one of her nipples, pinching it ... and not gently either. I couldn't move ... couldn't breathe ... could only listen to her speak.

"And we find blood very beautiful Diego ... it shines so beautiful and red in Inti's golden light. It would be so warm on ones skin as the skin cooled and you weakened." She turned to me, her eyes very bright.

"I have seen it Diego ... seen those who cried out ... in fear and pain yes ... but also in pleasure Diego ... in the pure joy and pleasure of giving themselves ... of knowing Inti was there for them ... of giving themselves to death ... the ultimate act of love and worship."

Then she pulled me closer and Lord forgive me I didn't have the strength of body or soul to stop her. She was so filled with passion ... I could feel it in the air around her like a physical presence. My heart was beating very fast and my manhood began to respond to it.

"It is the greatest of things one can do Diego ... the ultimate point of your life and you know it Diego ... you know you are dying ... you are dying in love and joy and respect ... how can you not believe that one might die in joy." And she pulled me so close that all I could see was her face.

"That one might die in glory if one is dying for love Diego ... Diego my love," she whispered and then kissed me.

I wish I could confess that it was weakness ... that it was only lust that made me put my arms around her and pull her close and fall into that kiss. But it was not just the need of my body ... it was the need of my soul ... as strong as my love for God and His son ... though far far more immediate.

Her lips were soft and fragrant ... tasting of summer sunlight and fruit and so many things that I have not the words for. I felt no shame or disgust ... she felt so right in my arms that God forgive me I forgot totally that I am a priest and the oaths I had sworn.

Her hands moved down my body as mine slid up her back to pull her even closer ... my mind reeling and my heart hammer. It was only when her hands touched the hardness within my robes that it suddenly hit me what I was doing.

I gave a cry and pushed her back, far harder than I had intended to, turning my back on her beautiful face and body and the passion that was moving around her like the flow of her hair.

"Diego?" she whispered quietly, a hurt sound in her voice.

It took me some time to gather myself ... and bless her Cusi waited while I did ... if she had touched me or spoken again I do not know what I might have done.

"Cusi ... I am a Jesuit ... a Brother of Christ ... a priest. I swore an oath to Almighty God that I would love him and only him." I turned back and it nearly unmanned me that there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh my dear girl ... I never meant to hurt you so ... I ... I never meant for my ..." and I couldn't say it. I couldn't say "my love for you" because I knew if I did I would weaken again. I took a shaky breathy, my arms longing to pull her close again.

"I am a man of the cloth. I can not love Cusi ... not the love of heart or of body. I can love you as one of my flock, the love of soul ... a pure and more worthy love than that of the body." Even as I said the words I wanted to do nothing more than brush away the tears that were now on her cheeks.

"I would dishonour you for all time, condemn myself to hell for all eternity, if I were to love you." And I turned back, struggling with all my soul to walk away from her.

She didn't speak for a long time ... but when she did her words reached into my very soul.

"And yet you do love me Diego ... I know that as I know my own heart and that I love you ... even your God knows that you love me Diego." Her voice was sad, but the pain had left her voice.

"And I know that you will love me Diego ... both Inti and your God have brought us together ... neither of us has the power to deny that." She put a hand on my shoulder, and my knees very nearly collapsed from under me.

"But I can wait ... until you can accept your love Diego ... until you know that your God wants you to love me and that Inti has touched your heart with his love and warmth." She came closer and kissed the side of my neck. "I can wait until you know the time is right." And with that she walked away without once looking back.

I am glad now that my guards can not read ... that the Inca have no written language so that they do not even have the basis to learn to read my writing. It would shame me if they could understand that the stains on this page are my tears.

I must stop for now ...

*********************************************

Forgive my weakness earlier ... even now the pain of turning away from Cusi is as fresh as that day. I have tried, oh Lord God above how I have tried to erase her from my soul. I have kept my vows ... but in my soul she remains, and God please understand that she has a place as strong and as bright as Your own.

Enough ... I must continue the journal. They tell me we will arrive fairly soon and if I am correct as to my fate then I will not be able to finish.

She behaved the next day as if nothing had happened. Once away from her presence my strength returned and my shame at being so weak, at risking my soul and hers with my temporal needs was terrible. I prayed the entire night and well into the next day ... and by the time she came to see me with supper I was myself again. The need was still there, crying out to me, but I was its master now and I could once again be friend and priest.

Cusi seemed to respect my oaths ... she never again spoke of her love or asked me to utter the words that I loved her, but I could feel her wishing it, wanting me to say it whenever I came near her. More than once I did nearly weakened enough to say it.

More than once I touched her hand, my mouth open only to catch myself at the last moment. This seemed to give her hope and her mood improved as spring steadily moved on, becoming more and more the cheerful and bright Cusi I had first known.

Though that only made it harder to resist the temptation of her. I would have cloistered myself, but that was impossible.

Worse was the sure knowledge that she would not nay say me ... that if I were to take her as a man would take any woman that she would allow it ... even welcome it. I had corrupted her soul as surely as my own ... my shame was very great.

And worse she was the daughter of a man I come to think of as my greatest friend. Pachacutec said not a word ... but it was obvious he knew. And worse as well was that I felt he would approve ... for he took many an opportunity to leave us alone.

As far as the entire village was concerned, there was nothing wrong in my love for their priestess. But they all respected my wishes, and there were no words to encourage me to debase Cusi and my vows. Nothing changed in their behaviour towards myself and Cusi when we were together.

But there was a change. In the villagers and in Pachacutec as well. It shamed me greatly to know what they must have thought of me ... especially Pachacutec. I had very nearly lain with his child ... if I had not come to my senses I would have ravished her. I could feel many eyes on me and there were many whispers as I passed.

Strangely enough, the respect I had earned did not seem to suffer for my sinfulness ... no one stopped talking to me or stop coming to my sermons. But I could tell I was being watched and being talked about ... that I was the topic of more than one discussion, including between Pachacutec and Cusi.

Some of my own self respect returned as spring drew to a close. I was unable to totally conceal my feelings for Cusi ... not even from myself anymore and so I settled for having the strength to do nothing about them. It was hard, so very hard, but I did manage to master myself and to be true to my oaths.

I could feel a change in the air in those around me as well ... as if they respected my choice even if they did not approve or understand it, and respected the strength it had taken for me to make that choice. The whispers and talks just out of my hearing stopped, and the smiles and friendships went on as before.

And so I was sure I had passed some test that God had set before me ... and that I had passed.

But on the last day of spring I found out that I must have passed some other test ... and it was that night that this strange trek began.

I wish to continue but my guards order me to rest, that we have a long climb tomorrow and I will need my sleep. They say they have a draught for me to drink that will help me sleep despite how nervous I am of tomorrow. It is obvious they can see my fear. I pray I will be able to finish this confession and journal.

************************************

God it seems still has plans for me.

We have arrived, after an arduous climb, at a large cluster of buildings that I would call a monastery if it were in Europe. There are several hundred people here, far more than this monastery can possible support so many of them must be from villages and communities scattered across the Andes. I know none of them other than Pachacutec and my guards.

I had expected, after all the talks of how beautiful their ceremony was and how beautiful its setting was for the buildings to be more impressive. I had to laugh at myself at my disappointment ... I was being judgmental about the place I was to be murdered ... what a silly thing to worry about.

Pachacutec is here, having arrived by another route far quicker. I know now that the twisted long route we took was both to make sure I could not find my way back, but also to delay me so that he would already be here, along with several other priests and those who have arrived for the ceremony by the time I arrived.

Cusi has remained in the village. I am pathetically thankful for that as I am unsure of how well I could meet my fate if she were here.

I now know the date ... it is December 10 ... for I have 12 days left to live. December 22 is the Winter Solstice in the north, but is the Summer Solstice here in the southern hemisphere ... the longest day of the year and the most holy day of the year to those who worship Inti.

I am to be taken to the great ceremony of the sun. Pachacutec told me of this with true pleasure and excitement in his voice ... truly pleased that I had passed the tests I was not even aware of ... that I was worthy of this honour. I know he means this ... he feels that I am a great soul and a good man, a worthy sacrifice to Inti ... he feels he has done the best service that he possible could for me. He even seemed to understand when I did not respond other than to ask him if I had any say.

"No my friend ... Inti himself has chosen you. You must go ... though I would wish it to be with a clear heart and with great joy for you Diego, still you must go."

He turned me over to others then, moving off to speak to several men who I knew to be his fellow priests by their clothing and headdresses. I believe there was quite some argument about me ... but Pachacutec seems to have some influence as he soon seemed to win the argument. I overheard one of my guards saying that there was some senior priest who agreed with my friend and that ended the discussion.

Many of these priest have come to look at me ... not speaking, but just watching me write in my book or just look at me as I sit trying to be calm. I sometimes think I should scream and panic and perhaps not look so worthy a choice in their eyes ... but Pachacutec simply laughed and said that the choice had been made and I couldn't change it. Even the other priests seemed amused when he told them of my idea, and admire that even now I was trying to find a way out of this.

But I do not believe I will. I will continue to try ... I have not given up. But if I am to die, then I have made a decision.

Cusi was right in one thing ... that one can die with dignity when they have the knowledge they are to die. I will face this great test of my faith and my strength with as much conviction as Jesus himself showed. If I must die then I will do so as a Christian.

But, there is still some of my story to tell, and a last confession to make.

On the last day of spring, I had a rather strange day. Everyone (and I do mean everyone) in the village followed my movements all day. Everyone greeted me and smiled and called my name and spoke kind greetings. That was often the case, but it was as if every person was making a point to do so that day.

Everybody that is except Cusi and Pachacutec ... they were nowhere to be seen the entire day. It was not unusually to not see one of them, for life still had to go on and work always needed doing, but to not see both of them was very rare.

Still I thought little of it until that night.

In the middle of the night a sound awoke me and to my shock several large Incan men, none of whom I knew, all of them armed to the teeth had burst into my hut! I had no time to resist as the seized my arms and legs, blindfolded me and stuffed a gag in my mouth. I was dragged from the hut, stumbling and shuffling along at a rapid pace, moving up some trail. That didn't tell me much as just about every trail from the village led "up".

But soon enough they stopped and pulled my blindfold and gag off. I found we were in the ruined fortress, the light of many torches flickering off the tumbled down walls and glinting of the warriors weapons as well as off Cusi's golden hair. It was obvious she and her father had arranged this kidnapping and had been waiting for me here.

"I had hoped, so hoped Diego that you would know the time to be right and would come of your own will. But time moves on in its endless wheel ... now it is too late and we can wait no longer." She pulled me close and kissed me fiercely, and I must confess that I was unable to stop myself from returning that kiss.

She pulled back, smiling that wonderful smile that was for me and me alone then moved out of the torchlight without another word. I have not seen her since and God forgive me but I wish to see her one last time ... just one last time.

Pachacutec also stood nearby, a wide smile on his face. "You are so much more than you know Diego ... and I know you to be worthy of our honour. I too wish you had come to this of your own accord, but of all things that Inti is ... patient is not one of them. We must keep the pact, and so you must begin the journey."

I must confess again ... to sheer terror at that moment ... to the sin of coward ness. I had known them both for far too long not to know what those words implied. I had been chosen to be honoured and to be given to Inti! They believed it to be a great thing to give me ... a wonderful gift ... but still they meant to kill me!

That first night I was too scared and shocked to be coherent ... and so I said nothing at all. I just didn't know what to say. I had spent a year trying to tell them of how wrong their faith was and how much they should come to God. I had not budged them an inch ... in fact I knew then that in all our talks I had perhaps only reinforced their faith in their god. It was unlikely that I could change it now.

But as the next four days passed I tried to talk to Pachacutec more and more. I told him over and over that I did not want this honour and that he must not do this. Even by his own beliefs he could not take me if I was unwilling. But he responded that while he had never taken the unwilling, and never would, that I had no choice and that by the time we got to where they were taking me I would understand.

It was quite obvious that he knew I was not willing, yet he also believed that by the time we reached wherever it was we were going, that I would go to the altar of my own free will. He was very sure of it.

"When you stand there Diego, in Inti's presence ... when you see with your eyes that I know can see the truth ... when you stand before the great golden warmth of Inti I know you will join us willingly my friend. You will see ... you will have no choice but to follow the will of Inti ... and the will of your God, who has brought you to us."

About the only thing I was able to argue him into was to allow me this book, which I was supposed to have used to record the names of those I had converted to Christ and my ink and quill to make this journal of how I ended up in these circumstances.

He left us shortly afterwards, to prepare this place obviously and the rest of my journey you now know.

**********************************************************

It is time ... it is the late night of Dec 21 and I am told that we must climb up to meet the sun.

They took from me this journal ... why I do not know. None of them can read, but they took it for several days, only returning it tonight.

In those days I must admit to one last sin. They had several beautiful maidens bathe me ... daily. Each day for the last 10 days they have washed me and clothed me in their native garb. A woollen undershirt and trousers for warmth, and a beautifully decorated robe over it. They have taken all my other clothes ... leaving me only my cross, to which I have also daily prayed.

I have managed to find some peace in myself. In praying and reminding myself who and what I am I have finally mastered the fear the idea of my death on the altar has generated. I am still afraid, I will not lie about that, but that fear no longer controls me and I can face my death with strength now.

It is ironic that that is what they want of me ... strength and dignity and strength of soul to appease their god. But I do not care about their god ... only mine and I will follow the Christ and his teachings and show the strength that he did. I only pray that as Cusi promised me that it will be quick.

As much as I am grateful that she is not here to unman me, I do so wish now that I had had time to speak with her before being taken away to let her know that I forgive her and that when I sit by Gods hand I will ask him not to judge her with too harsh a heart, for she gave me to this truly out of an act of love.

I know that that is still a weakness of mine ... that I should not doubt that their faith is evil ... but I can not. They believe so strongly, and they take such obvious joy in it. I know as a good Christian I must despise their pagan ways ... but after all our talks and more than a year in their presence I find I can't.

So far from the Mother Church, so far from my fellow Christians it has been hard to keep my doubts in the Good Book from surfacing. I still have faith in God ... but more and more I see those things that are the same in His words and in the faith and worship of these people to Inti. I still believe in God with all my soul, but in the Church is another matter. If I am wrong then I hope God will not judge me too harshly for doubting those who serve above me when I meet him.

I also forgave Pachacutec. He said nothing, only smiled when I spoke to him. I tried one last time to talk him out of what he intends, but it was useless. And so I forgave him. He did tell me that soon I would understand all before he left.

The priests, all but the elder one whom I have not yet seen, watched me pray each day. Their eyes are intelligent and shrewd ... no hate or anger shows in them, and it was obvious that they were making their own judgements of me.

The people of the temple are another matter ... though Pachacutec has obviously made his argument and won them over they do not want me here. Even the girls that bathed me hardly spoke and all the guards here and people give me rather cold looks. It is still a shame to me that even as they think me worthy of being given to their god that they so distrust a European priest ... yet they have reason.

The only ones who speak to me without coldness is Pachacutec and those guards who where my guides and keepers on the long trek here.

Yet even those who treat me coldly do so with a strange kind of respect ... as if they don't like the idea of it being me who is to be given to Inti, yet they can't deny my worth. It is strange to know that these people hold me in the greatest respect, yet wish to the depth of my heart that they despised me.

I hear voices outside my rooms now ... it must be time and I must end this journal at last.

I have confessed to all my sins now. The sin of coward ness, though that I hope I have mastered. I may have sinned greatly against The Mother Church and His Holiness, though my doubts in that remain. I have sinned greatly against God and Cusi in the lusts and impure thoughts that I still can not control.

I am, like all men, a sinner.

But in this small journal to which I have confessed all that has happened in the last year and more I hope to find Gods forgiveness, and be a true Christian, if not a true Churchman to my very death.

Diego Christobal Gallegos
Priest and brother of the Jesuit Order.
December 21, 1640

May god have mercy on us all.

***************************************************

Quite obviously I am still alive.

I had quite a fight with the others to allow me my journal back one last time ... but my arguments won over and now I will make my true final entry.

Read on ... if you have the courage.

Pachacutec met me outside my room, and there were some nods of respect that they had not had to come in and get me.

I do not know why, but I had expected them to bind me in some manor, which they did not. The entire community of this monastery awaited us outside the building to which I'd been confined for two weeks. Many of those faces were still cold, but not entirely unwelcoming and still had that hint of respect in them.

I was blindfolded once more ... a strange precaution I thought considering I was about to die. I was led outside the wall, and then we began to climb ... even though we were already quite high into the surrounding peeks. As we moved out, those who came with began to sing and chant ... blessing to Inti and small scraps of songs. It didn't have a formal sound like a hymn ... more like a general happiness in the crowd at going to "meet the sun."

We continued to climb for some distance, though it was not the steeply stepped mountain pathways which we had been following for so long. It felt as if we were walking up some long shallow escarpment. How long we climbed it was hard to say, unable to see the moon to mark the passage of the hours. But I knew we had come some distance up this long shelf in the mountains as the air become noticeably colder, though still not the true terrible biting cold of the great high peaks.

The singing and chanting continued as we walked, and Pachacutec kept up his assurances that I would understand all once we arrived. I did not reply, as I had no idea what to say any longer. My own doubts about the "invalidity" of their beliefs and my doubts in The Church kept me from truly being able to make an intelligent reply, and so I said nothing, merely waiting to see what test fate and Our Lord was about to set before me.

Then we were walking down a slope that was steeper than the climb up had been, though it was still rather shallow. We descended for a short time then the hand guiding me stopped and with one last long wavering cry that echoed from the peeks around us the singing died away. "Now my new friend, now you truly begin to learn," Pachacutec said from behind me, and he gently pulled the hood from my head.

The moon had already set behind the mountains, and a very faint glow in the east told me that it was late into the night, that dawn would be upon us before too much longer. Yet even with the moon gone the pure brilliance of the stars at these heights gave me more than enough light to see clearly. With the hood removed the sight that greeted my eyes quite literally took my breath away. It was not the grandeur of the mountains, though they were indeed spectacular. I had seen so many beautiful mountain vistas that this one did not hit me with any particular strength.

No, what caught my eye was what these "savages" had made right into the side of the mountain itself. I can not say if the huge rounded cavern had been hone by human hands, by nature, or if perhaps some otherworldly hands had made it. At the very base of a peek that towered thousands of feet above us was a near perfect half circle. It looked as if half the dome of St. Peters had been pushed into the base of the mountain. Even if this started as some great natural bubble of rock within the mountain, the sheer scale of the work needed to smooth out the walls was astounding.

The reason for that smoothing would have satisfied the greed of the most rapacious of the Conquistadors. For it was coated in gold! Smoothed and worked and hammered until the great rock half-dome looked as though it where one massive golden reflector. There were neither rivets nor seams to break the perfect smoothness of that great golden mirror, and I am unable to say how it was attached to the rock face. The sheer level of skill it would have taken to create this golden dome was as astounding to me as was the wealth of gold it contained.

In the exact centre of the half-dome was an altar, though a rather oddly shaped one by Christian standards. It was slightly arched, higher in the middle than at either end, and was roughly 3 feet wide by 5 feet long, with a large circular base. It appeared that it had been carved from a single massive boulder of pure basalt, carefully placed to be in this exact spot. While the golden walls of the half-dome were as smooth as glass the altar was deeply carved with several intricate lines along its top and both shorter ends, while the long sides had carvings of the symbols of Inti.

Pachacutec stood beside me, along with 5 other priests and a lone woman in a robe and cowl. Her back was to me and I could not see her features, though she was tall for an Incan woman. Ranged behind us were several hundred of the natives, standing on the wide descending shelf of rock that led down to this strange yet beautiful pagan altar. Unlike the half-dome and altar, the rock shelf had been left natural and they all stood at slightly different levels, though everyone appeared to have a clear view. Many blankets and rugs were scattered around, softening the sharp stones and perhaps helping hold back the cold of the stone beneath their feet. There was a strong aura of anticipation in the audience ... what they might be anticipating sent a chill down my spine, though I was still determined to accept whatever test was coming with Christian strength and dignity.

I was a little surprised when I looked around at our party ... only a very few of those whom I knew as warriors had brought their weapons ... only enough to form a decent escort. I had expected more guards to keep me in line. Though I am a priest, I am also a Jesuit and quite capable of defending myself. Yet there were only 6 warriors, and they had only spears with them ... not their wickedly sharp wooden clubs with the obsidian chips imbedded in them. And they also stood a good distance apart, forming a loose ring around the half-dome. I could easily have run between two of them if I wished ... but I choose not to. After all, how far could I get? I would have to somehow make it past the watching crowd and I didn't even know which direction might lead to safety.

"Now my friend Diego, you will see a secret that none of your people have witnessed and I am sure you will also learn a great truth about yourself and the gods." Pachacutec clapped a hand on my shoulder, and then stepped forward with the other priests and the robed woman towards the altar. The priests, including Pachacutec removed their warm robes and reveal they were naked beneath. The only clothing they had were their headdresses ... they were otherwise nude.

Pachacutec spoke to the other priests briefly (too quietly for me to hear) and to the woman as well ... he then came back to stand beside me. "Now my friend, watch ... feel ... learn." And with those words the woman in the robe finally turned towards me.

And to my shock it was Cusi! Her face was as unmistakable as the long golden blond hair that tumbled free down her back when she pulled the cowl from her head. She was smiling down at me with that beautiful smile. How? How in the name of God ... hers or mine ... how had they managed to bring her to this place, to the convent, the great length of trail we had walked, without me seeing her?

"How glad I am Diego that you are here ... how very glad. Of all your people that mine have met, it is you who shows the greatest of hearts. You alone who shows a very old soul. And you alone who may understand and accept." Her words were those of warmth, welcome and joy, but I could not help but feel yet another chill pass down my spine.

In the instant of seeing her, I had hoped that perhaps I was wrong about their intentions, that they had simply brought me to see this admittedly beautiful temple and to once again persuade me that it was I who was following the wrong word of God. That she was here to take me back home.

But her words made it obvious that she was here to witness the ceremony, and that I was indeed to be given to these peoples blood driven sun god as a sacrifice. That she was obviously joyous to see me ... that she felt I was being given a great honour ... did little to raise my own spirit. In some obscure way, like with Pachacutec, her faith in me was oddly touching ... they truly believed I was worthy of this honour ... I had been chosen because of their respect for me and their faith in me. If only their faith was not in the power of my soul to please their god!

One of the other priests, a very elderly yet sturdy looking fellow whom I had never before seen, cleared his throat. "Cusi ... beloved of Inti ... it is time." His words were very formal, obviously ceremonial.

Two of the guards stepped to my side, though they were unnecessary. I had decided to accept whatever it was they intended to do to me with grace and strength and as much fortitude as I could, as Jesu Christi himself had when the Roman's came for him.

But the guards did not seize my arms or take me to the altar ... they simply stood quietly at my side. It was Cusi herself that moved towards me, and I thought she was going to ask me to place myself on the altar.

Oh how wrong was I ... the sin of conceit had been in my heart without even knowing it. For rather than take my hand and lead me to the place of my sacrifice, Cusi smiled and with a natural ease and grace that showed a complete lack of shame (and a deep belief that this was a holy act not a sinful one) she parted the thin robe and let it fall to her feet.

She was entirely naked beneath ... not even a single small bit of cloth or jewellery to cover the beauty that was her gift from God ... or perhaps even her gods.

I have little experience with women ... yet to my eyes there was great grace and lithesome beauty in her form. Her breasts were high and small, perfectly suited to her lean frame, coming to a fine point at her nipples and areolas. The rich brown coloring of her tan continued to her entire body ... obviously this was far from the first time the Cusi had stood before nature without her clothes. The rich earth tones of her skin were even darker around her nipples, and those nipples were the deep brown of good fertile earth. And those nipples were hard and pointed.

I am a man of God, yes, but still am I a man and I could not stop the response of my manhood to the beauty and desirability of the woman before me.

She looked into my eyes, seeing the desire there and smiling at me, not offended by my lust. Then she spread her arms wide at her sides and the remaining four warriors came to her. Two of them took her arms and lifted her easily into the air while the other two then took her ankles and laid her on her back, high over their heads with their arms at full stretch. I could not help but be struck by the similarity of her pose to that of Christ on the Cross.

And it was then that I realized that I was not here to be the sacrifice ... but to be the observer of hers! I cried out in my native Spanish, words they could not possibly understand and lunged forward, determined to stop them from taking this woman's life, even if the cost were to be my own.

But it was for this that my two guards has waited, and both seized my arms and wrists, holding me back from moving, though in my need to save her I did manage to drag them several paces forward. I finally got my rage and panic under some control and spoke once again in their tongue.

"Cusi! No! You can't take her! You can't do this! She is an innocent! Cusi ... please ... do not let them do this! Fight!!"

But at my words she turned her face to me, and I could still see that delighted, triumphant smile on her face. She didn't say a word, just met my eyes with her own. In those eyes I saw only the slightest hint of fear, of nervousness and trepidation ... what I saw mostly was a delight and joy and zeal ... the same as I had seen so many times in the face of those who served God and knew deep in their hearts that what they were doing was a holy thing.

I struggle now to find the words to record the feelings that went through me at that moment. I felt a deep fear for her ... in the sure knowledge that she was going ... willingly ... to her death. I felt a strange stirring of admiration for her faith ... for the strength of the conviction I beheld in those eyes. Somewhat to my shame I felt a moments spurt of rage at God for delivering us both to this fate; she to her death at these savage hands and myself to be forced to watch it. I felt disgust for Pachacutec that he had obviously chosen her from among his own flock. I felt a desperate need to yank myself free from my guards and some how, impossibly, save her from this fate.

And here I must also make another confession to this little journal ... for deep within me, in a place in my soul that I was afraid to truly acknowledge, I also felt a strange fascination and desire to see her bent down before that altar and to watch as she gave herself to her gods.

All of these feelings and emotions boiled through me, not one after another but all at the same time in a mix that I can find no single word for, and that paralyzed my body, freezing me in place, unable to do more than hang my head in shame and self loathing that I should be so helpless when one of my flock needed me so much.

Pachacutec came to my side, and put his hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shrug it aside, yet the familiar feel of my friends hand did give comfort. "Diego my friend ... you do not yet understand ... but you have a great mind and soul ... watch with those instead of the eyes of a priest of your corrupted church. Watch ... observe ... and learn."

His words galvanized my emotions for a moment ... into anger. Anger at him, anger at her, anger at myself and the entire world that was allowing this to happen. "How!? How can you ask me to do nothing more than watch?! How can I just stand here and let you take her life?! Believers or not ... you are of my flock! I can't just stand here and let you do this!" My rage spent itself in an instant ... for even as I said the words I knew that there was nothing whatsoever that I could do to save the poor woman.

Pachacutec put his hand under my chin and lifted my head, the eyes of my friend boring into my own. "I can ask this of you my friend because SHE wants it of you," and pointed to Cusi, who was being carried high over the heads of the four warriors, moving slowly through the crowd, who were tossing flowers at her, occasionally touching her outstretched body as it passed by them.

"There were many who did not wish you here ... many. Yet since it was she that was making the journey into Inti's arms her request was honoured. And her one and only desire was to have you here to ... witness ... her sacrifice to the great sun."

I looked over to her once again. The soft glow of the sun over the rim of the mountain shelf was stronger now, making her face easily visible. Her eyes were closed, but a beatific smile curled her lips as her body was held above the worshipful crowd.

"She, like myself, believes that you have eyes that can see, truly see. She wanted you here so you could see what we see as a moment of sublime joy and beauty." My friend's voice took on a hint of anger mixed with anguish. "Even if you can not ... even if you can't see the beauty and joy of this moment, then I know without doubt that you can do one thing."

"And what is that?" I asked, glaring into his earnest eyes.

"You can keep from spoiling this moment for her and be here, by her side, watching and sharing in this moment with her." Then his hand tightened on my shoulder. "You can honour her friendship and love for you and not spit upon the beauty of the gift she is giving you." And without another word, he turned and walked toward the altar.

Oh how those words stuck me. Up until that very moment, for all my supposed education, not once had I considered WHY she had wanted me here. It was obvious that she wanted me to watch her sacrifice ... but not for a moment had I wondered WHY.

There is many an Inquisitor who would sear the eyes from my head and the hands from my arms for writing these words ... but I couldn't believe that God and Jesus could have caused me to come to that place, helpless to stop what was happening, only to rant and rave uselessly against it. To ruin for this wonderfully kind and giving woman what was the culmination of all that she was.

Surly God ... or some force beyond my kin ... had put me here for her. Even if it was a pagan rite ... even if the joy they took in it was a mortal sin ... even if the Pope himself were to call it evil ... surly God wanted me here for her, for this moment to be something joyous and beautiful for her.

No ... mortal sin or not ... an act of pure evil or just misguided ... I could not spoil it for her. I could not take away what would give her comfort and joy at this moment, even if it were to place my own soul into the depths of hell itself, I would not ruin this moment for her.

Ah ... the things that love will make a man do for a woman.

And yet I became even more certain of this ... for as this determination crossed my mind, much of the turmoil in my soul calmed itself. Surely this was a sign that while what they were doing was wrong taking the joy of it from her would be an even greater shame.

I would stay ... for her ... to give her what she sought from me ... and would then find some manor to stop these immoral ceremonies, once and for all. Even if my life and very soul were to be forfeit, such would be my penance for failing to stop this before it became too late.

Something of this determination to not spoil this for Cusi must have been in my eyes when I looked up to find Pachacutec looking up at me from his place by the altar. He looked into my eyes for several long moments then signalled to the guards to let me go. I flexed my arms, but otherwise made no move to run or to stop the slow parade of Cusi's body which had now made its way through the entire crowd and was being taken back down towards the altar.

He smiled and nodded at me. Just loud enough for him to hear me I said, "For her, not for you or your gods. For her and no other reason."

Rather than anger him, as I expected, he smiled and gave me a small bow, then turned to face the four guards who bore Cusi between them.

They moved carefully around the altar until they were standing at its four corners, and then they carefully lowered her to the stone. The slight curve caused her to arch upwards, her smooth stomach and breasts arched high, while her head, legs and arms draped down at the top and bottom of the altar. Four of the priests moved to take her wrists and ankles from the guards, and then they moved back to form a half circle around the base of the great golden dome.

The priests pulled her arms and legs down, and she let her head fall back, her long golden hair brushing the ground. The priests at first looked as if they were holding her down, but I could see that there was no tension in her arms. They were not pulling on her limbs to pinion her to the stone, to hold her in place. If I had not been convinced before, the still beatific smile she gave to each of the priests in turn made it obvious she was not being forced down on the altar.

I could feel my heart start to beat faster, and to my shame my manhood continued to harden looking at her lovely form stretched across the cold black stone of the altar.

Pachacutec was not one of those four priests ... he stood behind the elderly priest holding an object wrapped in cloth of gold. Pachacutec carefully unwrapped the object, treating it with as much reverence as I would have a reliquary.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw what the object was. It was a knife, obviously a ceremonial blade. I had never seen an Incan blade like it.

As was usual for an Incan edged object, the actually blade was made of obsidian, that dark black glass that was as sharp if not sharper than the finest Spanish steel. But instead of the small sharp chips imbedded in wood, this was a wedge of razor sharp glass. The blade looked very much like a wide dagger ... the length of a small woman's hands and fingers and perhaps 3 fingers wide at the base. The sides were even ... it looked almost as if the black gem stone had been purposely formed into this shape. I could not imagine how the Incan's could have made such an object, yet it was hard to accept that the near perfect shape of a long slim dagger blade could have formed purely by nature.

Once again my own doubts surfaced when the small voice in my mind whispered that it could well have been God who made this blade for these people ... for this very purpose.

The handle of the blade appeared to be made of pure gold ... shaped to cup the bottom of the glass blade and make it fast to the handle, a strong yet gentle grip that would not shatter the glass. Despite the use to which I was sure this blade was going to be put, I could not help but admire the craftsmanship and beauty of it.

Pachacutec knelt at the old priests feet and old man took the blade in both his hands but did not lift it from Pachacutec's up thrust hands ... he simply stood there, his hands on the grip. Cusi lay arched back, the other priests holding her at her wrists and ankles though she kept her head up to look at the blade hovering over her body. This tableau held for some time, and I wondered what they could be waiting for.

And as if someone were listening into my thoughts, the answer came at that very moment.

The sun, which had been steadily brightening the sky in the east spilled over the top of the escarpment at that very second and a single blazing shaft of sunlight suddenly touched the very apex of the half dome of polished gold that formed this strangely beautiful temple cut into the side of the mountain.

The gold reflected this light in a beautiful, warm, mellow blaze of golden light that was reflected down to spill across the alter and all those standing there. I was still some distance from the altar, but even there I could feel the warmth that was also reflected back from the great golden dome. It was as if the sun itself had suddenly enwrapped them all in golden yellow warmth and light.

The old priest lifted the blade high into the air, holding it so that the obsidian blade was pointing up into the shaft of beautiful golden light spilling down from the dome.

The blade refracted and split the light into several dazzling rainbows that spun out into the crowd and over me as well ... even a very jaded soul would have to admit that it was a stunningly beautiful sight.

The old priest invoked the blessings of Inti and asked him to bless the woman whose blood was being given to keep the world alive and to take her soul into his arms and take her to his home in the sky. The words chilled me to the bone, yet all of the gathered worshipers called out their own blessings, and Cusi was looking up at the blade and the golden spill of sunlight with a smile of joy and delight. She did look a bit nervous ... perhaps even a little frightened ... but no more so than I had when I took my vows and became a brother in the Society of Jesus.

There was a joy in this ... and not the lust for blood, or at least not JUST the lust blood. It was not the manic, hateful ceremonies of the legendary Aztec's from the far north or even of those who called themselves my fellow "Christians".

I looked at the face of the woman that I had grown to love, at how the golden spill of first light glowed over her body, and at once was struck by her beauty. And that small voice within me whispered quietly that it was easy to see why she had been chosen ... what more beautiful gift could these people give to Inti? I tired to shake off that voice ... tried to ignore it as it was that same voice that had led me to my own doubts. But I could not ignore it ... for despite the terrible deed about to be done it was a true voice ... she was so very beautiful in body, face and soul. How could any deity not want her to be by his side?

And as the golden light spilled over her ... as the rainbows from the blade spun around us all ... as my manhood continued to stir and my heart race at the terrible/beautiful sight of her bent over that cold stone ... that small voice whispered that I too wanted to see this. How could it be so very wrong as I believed if even she wanted it?

He stood on the far side of the altar from us so that her body was easily visible. Along with everyone else I waited as the priest held the obsidian dagger above her body ... waited for what seemed an eternity until he lowered it towards her. The old priests body was not so withered as one would imagine in a man his age, and his manhood now stood hard and proud before him.

I watched, my heart hammering, my own cock now so hard that it actually began to hurt as he put the very point of the blade just under the curve of Cusi's right breast and drew it along that curve. I could see that he was putting almost no pressure on the blade, yet it parted her skin as cleanly and smoothly as if it were nothing more than fine paper.

Cusi's eyes followed the blade the entire way as it moved to her body ... her eyes narrowed and her body tightened a small bit as he moved it across her skin. It appeared to hurt very little ... and I knew from my childhood with my father that a fine edge could cut so cleanly as to cause very little pain even as it made a significant wound. But this was little more than a scratch ... it bleed immediately but very little. A soft sigh came from all those watching, and I must admit that a rush passed through me at that first long mark on her skin. Cusi made not a sound ... neither cry nor whimper ... but her eyes followed every movement of the blade along her skin.

Pachacutec had moved to her head, and was helping her to hold it up so that she could see and watch the blade despite the arch of her body which would otherwise have made it difficult for her to watch. As the first thin line of blood began to slide along her skin she gave a soft smile and Pachacutec bent his own head down to give her a soft kiss on her forehead. He whispered in her ear and she too smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

She was being killed ... he was helping ... and yet their love as "father and daughter" was still quite evident ... as was the obvious pride in his eyes. Yet his maleness was also hard and pointed ... throbbing not doubt to the beat of his heart as my own was doing.

The priest moved the blade under her other breast and once again cut a line along the bottom curve ... Cusi winched a bit again, but made no sound as her eyes followed the blade. Soft sighs again came from those behind me, and I torn my eyes from the sight of the blade moving along her skin to see that many of the people had formed into couples and small groups. Despite the cold of this high altitude many had begun to shed their garments. I too must admit to a feeling of being constrained by my robes ... and my manhood was pressed even more painfully into the trousers I wore beneath it.

I turned back as I saw the eyes of all the people following another movement of the blade and saw that the priest had moved the blade to her navel and was very carefully making a small circle around it. Cusi finally made a small distressed noise ... not loud, but a small grunt of pain as he moved the blade around in her skin.

Blood once more welled up in the path of the blade ... and my eyes locked to it. It was rich with her life and her health ... the deepest of ruby red against her tanned skin. The great spill of golden light and warmth, which was steadily growing stronger as the sun rose behind us gave it a shine and lustre that drew my eye as strongly as it did hers and everyone's.

Was it not the blood of Christ himself that washed all sins clean? that small voice told me. Do you not find beauty in the mass when you celebrate Christ's blood and sacrifice? Why should her blood ... given freely to ensure her peoples future be any different ... why does it have to be only His blood which is sacred and beautiful?

And I swear on His holy name, and on my love for His Son ... should any Christian's eye fall on these words ... I swear to the Almighty that at that moment, and to this day, I could find no answer for that quiet voice.

In the depths of my soul I could not find her blood any less beautiful or holy than that of Christ ... and could not ... can not ... find any less worth in her sacrifice than in His.

The old priest continued to with great care and gentleness to mark her skin with the blade, carefully slicing long lines in her beautiful body. As more of the lines were made Cusi winced and occasionally gave small cries ... but she continued to smile at the priest as he marked her skin. It was not long before I realized that the marks had a purpose ... that he was slowly making her abdomen into a canvas. Her blood ran down along her sides to the stone ... though there was not very much of it as of yet.

Slowly, with an almost tender care the old priest marked her body with a wide sun symbol ... the sun centered around her navel and the other marks being sun rays and the lines under her breasts the vaults of the heavens.

Cusi had to be in some pain ... she was wincing more and more as he cut her ... yet her nipples were quite hard and the smile only left her lips and eyes to wince occasionally. I could still see the hints of fear, but it would have been obvious to a blind man that she was thrilled far more than she was afraid.

As the priest continued his work the sun rose rapidly, as it was wont to in these high mountain. Brighter and brighter grew the golden light surrounding Cusi and the priests at the altar ... but it also grew warmer and warmer, even where I stood some feet from her. I turned once more to see that the warmth obviously extended some distance from myself as many of the others had almost completely shed their clothing, and many were touching each other. All the priests, even Pachacutec, had rather obvious erections, and I noticed that more than one of the guards was touching his own erection, gently stroking himself.

Somehow it was comforting to know that I was not the only one ... that in fact everyone ... appeared to be aroused by the sight of Cusi bent over that altar and bleeding gently. As a proper Christian, as a priest of God and Christ I had been taught that such was a sin ... that such was a mortal sin and that they were damning this girl and themselves to hell ... but those thoughts did not even occur to me. I felt at that moment so close to something so much greater than myself ... and the desire in my body felt so correct ... so natural and correct that no once could convince me that such came from Satan.

How could anything feel so joyous and so right ... how could anything that looked so exciting and wonderful come from any other place that something good and strong ... no matter what one called God ... surely He must approve if I felt like this? Damn me if ye' will those Christians whose eyes fall upon my words. I began this journal as a confession ... and its words must be true no matter how they offend others eyes.

The old priest finally finished carving the sun symbol into Cusi's body and he held the stained blade up high into the golden light, though the rainbows were subdued by the blood on the blade. He called upon Inti once more to bless the bleeding woman beneath him and to see her worth that she had made not protest nor tried to stop him from marking her. He smiled and bent low over Cusi, and gave her a long kiss that she returned.

He handed the blade to Pachacutec, who released Cusi's head so that he could step to where the priest had been, the priest then moving to help Cusi lift her head to watch.

Pachacutec had been father to this girl ... yet he didn't hesitate. He called out to Inti to take his beautiful and beloved daughter and then he moved the blade to just above the nipple of her left breast and being as careful as the priest had been he made a small shallow cut into her flesh.

Cusi made a small sound this time for the cut was not just a scratch, but a deeper cut. It was a small quick cry, not very loud but clearly heard from the great dome surrounding her. Her arms tightened as well and finally her eyes closed totally in a wince ... the first time she had done so. Blood welled up behind the cut, sliding down towards her shoulder, spilling down around her to the altar.

Those behind me had cried out with her, not as loud but a response to her cry ... and a small sound escaped my own throat. I should feel ashamed that her cry of pain made my heart leap with excitement, that my manhood bounce in man trousers ... but I felt no shame then ... I feel none now.

She opened her eyes finally and her smile returned, though it was a bit more strained than it had been before ... that cut had obviously hurt. Pachacutec bent low to his daughter, and as the priest before him had done, he kissed her deeply and she returned it. Pachacutec manhood was quite hard, and as he bent low it was pressed for a moment to her skin, some of her blood smearing onto it. Again my soul should have cried that this was his child ... that his desire was even more evil for that.
But despite the nature of what he was doing, that he was her father, there was such tenderness and love in his eyes that I could not see it as evil.

As he stood erect again he moved to hold one of her hands and the priest that had been holding that arm moved to take the dagger and stand at her side. He ran a hand over her upper chest, a smile on his face, looking down into her eyes as she smiled up at him. He put the point of the blade at the juncture of her right leg and hip and then made a long shallow cut, not so deep as Pachacutec had done but much longer, down her leg.

Cusi arched this time and the leg being cut leapt only held by the powerful hands of the priest who held her ankle. She cried out, truly loud for the first time, pain quite evident in its sound ... but it was not a harsh sound. It was a long soft wail ... a release of the pain. Her eyes closed briefly, then opened as he finished the cut. It took a bit longer for her smile to return, but as the priest moved to kiss her, his cock also rubbing on her blood slicked skin, it did return and the kiss she gave him showed considerable passion. Pachacutec released the hand he held and she moved it to the priests manhood and she began to stroke it as she kissed the man.

I could not stop myself ... I reached down to the quite obvious bulge in my own robs and began to rub my aching cock through it. I wasn't even truly aware of what I was doing at first ... and when I was I could not have stopped myself if the Pope himself were to order it.

The priest she was stroking gave a shudder and he quickly reached down to stop her hand, whispering something to her I could not hear. She removed her hand though she kissed him one more time, Pachacutec taking her wrist once again as the priest gave the blade to one of those holding her legs and took his place to hold her.

Cusi turned her head to look in my direction her eyes meeting mine. I could not stop the movement of my hand over my cloth covered cock ... but she showed no disgust ... her smile grew wider and she whispered to the old priest still holding her head who also turned to look. He too smiled and spoke to Pachacutec.

He released her hand and walked to me. His strong hands seized the front of my robe and gave a powerful tug and with a sound that was startlingly loud it tore right down the middle leaving me in only a woollen undershirt and my trousers. The hem of the hood had cut a mark into the back of my neck ... but I had not even felt it.

I gave my own started cry when a pair of soft female hands took my wrists and lifted my hands in order to pull the shirt over my head ... one of the women from behind me. It was very cold in those mountains, yet between my own growing desire and the golden warmth pouring in ever greater strength from the dome I did not even feel it.

Those same hands circled my hips and pulled the tie on my trousers. They fell to the ground and my hardness bobbed into view. Pachacutec looked down ... no shame in his eyes at the sight of a fellow male so close and so aroused, nor did I feel any at being naked before so many. It did not even occur to me to feel shame ... it all felt so right and so natural.

The woman touched my hardness ... the first hand other than mine own to ever do so. I cried out again and my legs went weak. Never had the touch of my own hand sent such a shock through my body. I might have fallen but Pachacutec grabbed my shoulder and the woman left ... I could hear her moving back to those ranged behind me.

My friend waved the guards totally away now ... and I heard them move to also join the crowd, as did those around the altar ... only the priests and Cusi there now ... and myself.

Pachacutec rejoined them, kissing the palm of Cusi's hand before seizing the wrist and holding her once more to the stone. While I had been disrobed Cusi had used her free hand to fondle the manhood of all those within her reach ... though in turn each had stopped her ... as if they were waiting for something. I could hear that Cusi's breathing was getting more rapid, though I could not believe that she had lost enough blood yet for that to be a factor.

The priest who had been holding her ankle had waited patiently, and now he bent low and kissed her, moving the blade to the same spot on her right breast as Pachacutec had chosen on her left and made an identical cut. Cusi arched and cried, though not so loud as when her leg had been cut. The priest bent low to kiss her again, and he too ran his cock into her blood. The blood was trickling faster over her body now ... and the first line of blood could now be seen running down the side of the altar to touch the ground. A tiny thin line ... but the first of many I was sure. A thought that should have brought horror, but one that brought my hand once more to my crotch, now directly stroking my flesh.

I so wanted release ... yet something told me to hold back as the priest were so obviously doing. I turned to see what was occurring with the hundreds who had accompanied us. I was not surprised to see that nearly all of them were now touching and stroking each other. There were couples and large groups all tangled together in a mass of flesh as well as a few who stood alone ... both men and women. The faces that had been cold and distant when we began this trek the previous night now smiled at me. I could not help but return those smiles ... a few of those smiles even held invites to join them. But it was Cusi who drew my eyes ... her and her alone, and so I turned back.

As before, the priest switched places with one who had not yet cut her ... once again he kissed her tenderly ... and again came her cry of pain as this priest drew the blade along her arm from her shoulder to just before her wrist. The blood immediately ran down her arms to her fingers, dripping from there to the stone on which the altar sat and staining Pachacutec's fingers with even more of his daughters blood.

She opened her eyes again, and I saw her try to pull her arm free one more, but Pachacutec held her and she was unable to touch the priest, though he too ran his cock into her blood, kissing her once more as he switched places with another of his fellows.

This continued two more times ... so that matching lines were cut into her other arm and leg and blood was now dripping quite freely to the stone of the altar, running along her body in thin lines. With each cut she would cry ... yet the strained smile would return to her face and she would kiss the priest each time. Each of her cries was answered by mummers and cries from the crowd and from myself.

The six priests now each had blood smeared over their hands and their genitals ... which were still hard as stone. I could measure the beat of their hearts by the throb of their cocks ... and behind me I could hear sounds that could only be the couples and groups beginning to make love. When I turned to confirm this I could see I was correct, yet all of them had their eyes open, and all were turned to look at Cusi's bleeding body and her beatific smile.

"Diego," came a small strained voice, and I turned back to see that Cusi was smiling at me ... Pachacutec having released the hand that was beckoning to me. My mind went blank to all but her face and the strained yet lovely smile on her face and that welcoming hand ... she wanted me ... no ... she needed me. Not one hour ago I had railed against this ... not one hour ago I would have killed to free her ... now my feet were pulled towards her by the power and beauty that my soul had neither the power nor the desire to deny.

"Your hand Diego ... your hand ... please ... let it be you ... take my life ... spill my blood ... oh please my beloved ... don't deny me any longer ... please ... let our love be our gift to Inti ... to my ... our ... people ... please ...," she whispered. Her breathing was a bit strained now ... for she had lost enough blood for it to weaken her. But her eyes were as bright and as loving as ever I had seen them ... though the fear was still within their depths.

The sun was rising higher and higher ... and the golden light spilled out brighter and brighter around us all ... warm and golden and beautiful ... the sun itself kissing and running over her bleeding body. Inti himself touching caressing her ... how could I see it as anything else? And how could I not see her joy as she gave her blood and pain to her god and he came to take to his bosom? Surely God was here with us ... hers ... mine ... perhaps both ... perhaps they were one in the same. I did not care ... I only knew that something wonderful and powerful was here with us in the warm spill of golden light that surrounded and caressed us all.

Pachacutec looked up into my eyes, and his lips whispered 'please'. He was actually asking me to take the life of his child ... as another would beg me to save her soul. That small voice, which had been quiet for a time told me that that was exactly what he was asking ... for me to exalt her soul and let he be with god.

The oldest priest, who had begun the ceremony, held the blood stained dagger out to me by the blade ... which was so sharp that it was nicking his fingers. My hand trembled but I reached to take the blade ... it felt hot and heavy in my hand ... but not even the blades my father hand made for me felt so right and so perfect in my hand.

He leaned forward to whisper in my ear ... never have I been so grateful to god as then that I had learned their language. "You must hold onto yourself Spaniard ... your life must fill her at the very moment that Inti takes her life to his own ... you must hold," he said quietly, his fingers closing mine around the blade. "Take her with joy and with gentleness ... be tender in your heart and Inti will know you for a good man ... and know her for worthy of us and of him."

Should I feel shame for what I felt at that moment? Should I beg god's forgiveness? Many who read this will say that even god could not forgive what I was feeling ... I say to all that there is nothing to forgive, for only god could have made me feel the desire I did yet still feel a tenderness and love for the woman who was slowly bleeding to death on the altar before me.

I wanted her ... oh how I wanted her ... to slip this beautiful dagger deeply within her flesh and to hear her cry, look into those eyes as the blade went deep into her ... and yet I felt a deep love and need to be as gentle and tender as I could. I wanted to take her life, yes ... I wanted to spill her blood, yes ... I wanted to feel that blade sink within her ... yet how I loved her at that moment ... how much and how deeply I felt this need to be one of love.

Pachacutec bent once more to kiss his daughter. Then he came around to take my other hand and guide me between his own child's legs. I was far beyond shock ... far beyond any feeling other than the need to make of this what she wanted. I was not, and am not, a saint ... I had weakened and touched my own flesh more than once, but I had never been with a woman. I came a virgin to the priesthood and unlike so many remained true to my vows ... but I knew without any instruction, without any need for anyone to tell me, what it was both she and I needed.

I looked down between her legs and saw that she was soaking with her own fluids ... despite her pain and the fear that I could still see in her eyes she was very aroused by what was happening. I was fascinated for a moment by the fluid that was both clear and milky at the same time and the bright pink folds that looked very much like a flower ... but then without hesitation or shame, I slipped my painfully hard manhood within the petal soft folds between her legs.

And I understood in that second what the old priest had told me ... for it was the effort of my lifetime not to spill my seed at that very instant! God above, how can any man of god say that this is anything other than a sublime act of joy? The feeling as the head of my cock slipped past those folds into the welcoming heat and warmth of her body ... she was so wet and slick that I passed from outside to as deeply as my manhood allowed in one smooth slide.

It was not only Cusi who cried out at that moment ... for I could not contain the moan of joy that boiled up from my body. And Cusi's cry? Oh to hear that cry ... so different yet so like those that the blade had caused her ... and her cry was my name ... and it rang of the golden dome around us, echoing back from the cliffs. Never had my own name sounded so joyous.

I bent low over her ... I had to taste her lips ... and we kissed with a passion I've never known ... not even in my passion for my god. Our lips met and danced and our tongues duelled ... her breath was mine and mine was hers. We were joined ... joined as I felt to the depths of my soul we were meant to be ... only one joining of our bodies remained.

She arched her body against mine own, pushing my manhood harder within her. "Finally," she whispered as her eyes opened to look into my own, "finally we are one ... oh Diego ... oh how I dreamed of this and of you ... of you being here ... of this blade in your hand ... take me Diego ... of my love ... I want to feel you in me as your hand sinks the blade." And once more she kissed me hard, a kiss I returned.

I couldn't speak ... I couldn't breathe ... I held myself perfectly still within her for the fear I would spill my seed there and then at her words. The feel of her body around my cock was beyond anything I'd ever know ... the sight of her cut and bleeding body was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The golden light was now filling the world around us. It should have been far too hot but the cold wind was balancing the hot sun filling the golden dome perfectly ... it was the most beautiful moment of my life.

I was only minimally aware of Pachacutec and the rest of the priest around us ... I had all but forgotten those watching us, though I could see Cusi glace at them and smile in joy at their enjoyment of her sacrifice to Inti.

Finally I got myself back under some semblance of control and managed to get my voice back.

"Oh Cusi my love ... thank you my love ... thank you for sharing this with ... for letting me be here for you ... for opening my eyes ... I love you, I love you." The words that she had so longed to hear, that I had sworn an oath to god to never utter came easily and freely from my lips. Never in my life had my heart, my soul, my mind and my desires been so perfectly as one. I kissed her once more, loving the feel of her blood slicked body beneath mine, then straightened and place the blade just below her navel.

She looked from the blade to my eyes and back to the blade, and I watched as she took a small breath ... and with my heart hammering, my love for her stronger than ever before, I pushed the razored obsidian into her flesh. I actually felt the flesh part around the blade ... a silky, soft lovely feel as the diamond sharp blade slid into her body.

Cusi screamed. It was not a quick cry as before and it was not the high lovely cry of my name she had uttered as I had impaled my cock within her ... it was a high hard scream of pain. Yet it was as lovely to my ears as the earlier cry had been, and the clench of her walls around my cock as the blade sank into her was just as pleasurable as that initial thrust had been.

I felt Cusi's legs clamp around my hips and suddenly her arms shot up and grabbed my wrist where it was around the blade ... the priest has all let her go. But despite the painful clamp of her finger on my wrist she did not try to pull me back or stop me as I pushed the blade into her beautiful flesh until it was sunk completely within her. It was so sharp that there was hardly any blood around it ... just a small upwell around the blade itself. I moaned low and loud ... for it looked so utterly beautiful sunk in her body.

"Oh my love ... oh that felt so wonderful sinking within you," I whispered and bent low, carefully avoiding touching the blade as I kissed her again. Her hands moved from my wrist, still holding the blade within her, to tangle painfully in my hair as she kissed me so hard that it bruised our lips.

"I love you," she hissed in pain against my lips then pulled my head back and opened her eyes to look down the length of her body to the blade buried in her flesh. "Oh Diego ... to feel it ... feel it sink ... so hot ... so cold ... your hand ... your hand," she whispered, her eyes bright with pain and fear ... and love and joy.

I began to move within her ... my hips moving of their own accord. Her legs tried to hold me high and tight within her ... but she relented. I pulled back until I felt I was nearly falling from within her, than moved forward. I wanted to be gentle, but her legs pulled painfully against the small of my back to slam within her. The blade moved as she did so and she gave a small cry again, but she clenched around my cock once again and pulled me down for another hard kiss.

"Again Diego ... again ... more ... kill me ... please Diego ... more ... I want to feel it ... EEEEEEEEEEEE!" her words ended on another cry as I pulled the blade from her mound. As I did so I looked down our bodies and saw that along with the milky/clear liquid spilling from her legs there was now dark rich blood coming from within her. I had pierced her womb ... and all I felt was my manhood get even harder at that knowledge.

She would die now ... nothing could stop that ... but nothing on this world or the next would stop me from giving her more as she wished ... and as I wished with all my heart and soul.

Blood welled up far faster now as the blade was pulled from her, spilling down between her legs to join that already there, a steady stream of lovely brightness that would ensure the prosperity of all her people ... and our mutual joy.

I bent low over her, her legs still around my hips, her hands now holding my face. I placed the dagger at her side, just beside her left breast between two of her ribs. I gave just the slightest pressure and she gasped as just the very tip punctured her skin. I had to master myself once again as I felt a boiling pressure in my loins ... I looked into her eyes, concentrating on the hot emotions playing in there until I was sure I could hold once again.

"Again my love," I whispered, and then slid the blade between her ribs, pushing until I felt the beautiful silky slide of the blade into her body. She arched again, her legs clamping painfully, her nails gigging into the sides of my face so hard she drew blood. She screamed once again, and I kept watching her pinched face, my heart soaring in lust and delight as I slowly pushed the blade into her chest until it was again sunk home. She clenched around my manhood and I shoved myself against her as hard as I could, concentrating on the feel of the knife in her body lest I loose myself and spill my seed.

Her scream ended on a hard cough, and while there was very little blood around the blade it immediately welled up around her lips. I bent my head to her hers and licked it from her lips ... no drink, no food ... nothing ever tasted so delightful as the lifeblood on her lips.

She held in that painful arch for a moment more, then returned my kiss, her tongue again dancing with my own. Her breathing was instantly laboured ... and the smell of blood on her breath was strong.

"Oh my god ... oh Inti ... I feel you coming ... thank you ... oh thank you for bringing Diego to us ... thank you for brining a love to me ... cough ... oh I can feel it Diego ... I can feel your blade within me ... your hardness within me ... oh ... oh its so good ... so good," she whimpered against my lips.

I raised my head to find she was crying now ... the pain had to be great ... and I could still see the fear of her death in her eyes ... but I concentrated on what was strongest there. Joy ... a true hot joy ... and on the love that we had for each other. I still held myself still deep within her ... I knew that if I moved I would likely loose myself.

"I love you Cusi ... thank you my love ... thank you for giving me this," I said quietly, kissing her again though never taking my eyes from hers.

I was barely aware of those around us, but Cusi turned my head and I could see that everyone now was fully involved in a massive orgy on the rocky plain. The sun had fully risen now and the entire plain was bathed in the same beautiful golden warmth that we were. Even though they were tangled together, nearly every eye was still on us, watching us as Cusi slowly died on this beautiful sun drenched altar. The priests and Pachacutec were standing on the other side of the altar, their hands stroking their manhoods that looked as painfully hard as my own.

"They take joy in us my love ... see how they take joy in my pain and my joy ... in my death ... I die for them ... I die for you my love ... take me Diego ... please ...more ... I can feel Inti approaching ... I want more before he takes me."

I looked deeply into her eyes as I began to slowly and carefully withdraw the blade and her cry this time was much softer ... the pain fading as her body weakened ...

Yet ... in those eyes I saw something more ... something much more ... it was not just the weakening of her body ... but her own acceptance ... her own need for the blade. She turned her head slightly so she could watch it pull from her body, forcing her eyes to keep open as it came free and blood bubbled up around the wound. She coughed only once more, blood trickling down around her cheek and past her ear. She gave a low moan as the blade came free, and her head feel back with no one to hold it for her now.

I didn't hesitate ... she was fading now and I HAD to do as she wanted ... I wanted it as badly as she did.

I placed the blade on the other side of her body, in nearly the same place as the last and I waited only long enough for her to open her eyes again before I gently pushed it home once more between her ribs and into her other lung.

Her cry this time was very low ... not a shriek of pain but something that was very close to the sound she had made when I slipped my manhood between her legs. It still contained pain, and once more her nails bit into the side of my face, but she also pushed herself hard against me and her walls closed hard on my cock. I too moaned at the wonderful feel of the blade sinking into her, and the hot rush of joy doing so gave me. She did not close her eyes this time, but kept them glued to my own ... and what I saw in them was so beautiful and wondrous and powerful that I very nearly spilled my seed. There was so much in those eyes at once ... but most powerful was a joy and love ... and that loved touched me to my very soul.

I knew that I could last no longer than she could ... it was all I was able to do to this point to control myself ... it had to be the hand of god stopping me for I don't believe I had the strength myself. Cusi pushed hard against me, but her legs fell away, only loosely draped around my hips. She gave another hard cough, this one sounding very wet. Blood poured from her two other wounds now, and it was spilling from both her noose and her mouth. She swallowed several times trying to clear the blood, though she no longer coughed ... as if her lungs themselves were giving up the fight.

Her hands feel from my face as she lost the strength to keep them there. Long lines of blood dripped from her fingers to the stone beneath the altar. I was aware that the stone was now running with her blood, that the deep black of the stone had turned to a deep rich red and the smell of her blood was filling the warm air around us.

She took a bubbling breath and managed to speak one last time. I could not really hear her ... only because I was looking at her lips could I understand her.

"Diego ... oh my love ... take me ... he is here ... the sun is here ... the son is here ... so beautiful ... the pain goes ... please my love ... love me ... love me ... I love you Diego ...," her words were more blood than sound but the joy and love in her eyes spoke far more than her lips needed too.

I arched up, taking her weak head with one and pulling it up so she could see as I placed the blade just below her rib cage, angled high up into her body. Her eyes went soft, the pain totally gone now ... only her love and her joy remained and her eyes moved to mine and then to the blade in turn.

"I love you Cusi," I said to her, giving her a kiss and slowly drove the blade into her body and up into her chest. She tightened and clenched around me, and her mouth opened as well but she did not close her eyes. They remained wide open as she watched the blade sink deeper and deeper and deeper. I could feel the lovely slide of it as it sank into her flesh ... and then I felt it slide home and into her heart. I felt the blade flutter against my fingers as her heart tried to beat with the blade impaled into it.

Her body clenched hard around my cock ... far harder than ever before and then lovely rhythmic shudders went all through her womanhood as a further burst of warmth spilled from between her legs. All the wounds gave a small spurt of blood and her eyes finally fluttered closed, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on her face curved her lips.

I had held for this moment ... for that moment when I knew I could finally let go. I screamed ... there is no other word for it ... I screamed a long inarticulate cry as Cusi also reached this moment of joy and I spilled my seed deep into her bleeding, dying body.

Cusi held arched against me as I screamed out my joy and the power of that joy ripped out of me. I had brought myself to this point before with my own hand, but that was nothing compared to the power of this ... and it seemed to go on and on and on. Cusi too seemed to be in the throws of it ... even as her heart fluttered against the blade she arched hard against me, her eyes closed and her blood filled mouth open wide in her joy. The golden light spilled all around us ... hot golden warmth that enwrapped us in the golden love of god and filled the dome with warmth and wonder and beauty.

But as joyous as it was it could not last forever: finally she fell back to the altar and the blade gave one last flutter. I looked into her eyes ... and saw only joy and love there ... the fear and the pain were gone now. She smiled up at me and her lips told me one last time how much she loved me then her eyes went blank as her pupils opened to swallow the lovely blue of her eyes. Her face was still beautiful, and a wonderful smile was still there ... but my Cusi was gone. She had gone to meet god, to meet Inti ... and I knew without doubt, as I know now, that she went with joy and that she is there with god.

There was no sadness in my soul however ... only a tiny feeling of sadness that I would not see her again until I joined her. "I love you," I said letting her head sink back and finally stood on legs so weak that I was afraid I would collapse.

It was only then that I realised that all the priests, including Pachacutec had spilled their seed all over her breasts and stomach ... she was covered in blood and semen from her neck to her toes ... and it was to my eyes a beautiful sight. All of us were panting and gasping for air. I looked down at the blade imbedded in her body and couldn't resist the urge to kiss it as well, tasting the blood from deep within her heart as I did.

Two of the priests gently pulled me away as the eldest priest walked up beside her to the place he had first started. I watched as he carefully pulled the blade from her body and then with a practiced precision he used it to open her chest. I know that many think this a horror, but it was actually quite a beautiful finish as he carefully opened a large cavity beneath her ribs and then used the blade to remove her still warm heart.

The orgy continued in those who had come with us even as he held it up high into the golden light, giving a long cry.

Cusi's heart was placed into a beautiful clay jar, painted with symbols of all the Incan gods though the sun symbol of Inti was the most prominent. I wanted to stay, to see what would become of her body, but I was quickly led away by Pachacutec and two of the other priests. My duties were not yet done ...

I spent the remainder of that beautiful sun light day making love with as many women as my body allowed ... and it allowed quite a bit, far more than any time since. Many of the women from that day have become pregnant ... how many with my child I can not say, nor do I care. I am one of them now, and these children will be as much mine as they would have been if I had ONLY been their priest.

I will now close out this journal ... for we are leaving for a place high in the mountains that Pachacutec tells me my fellow Spaniards don't even suspect exists. I had quite a time arguing my fellow priests into letting this journal be taken to a place where Christian souls may read it. But in the end they agreed that if our ways are ever to be preserved that others must learn as I have learned. Even if others refuse the truth than god has shown me and we are destroyed ... I know the Mother Church.

She preserves everything ... even that that she disavows. It may take many years but there will be others who will learn of our ways. Even if we are all destroyed, Inti will not be forgotten, nor will my beloved Cusi.

And so your Holiness, should your eyes fall upon this, know that you indeed showed me the power of faith. It my most fervent hope that someday all may learn of this, so that the true joy and beauty that god can give to this poor sad world can be known by all.

And should your eyes fall upon this book, Ezequias Y Modestez, then know that both Inti and god have their eye upon you ... and someday you will pay for what you have done to those people.

Farewell

THE END