Winter Solstice

Huallpa trailed her cold fingers over the polished granite walls, tracing the grooves where the blocks were snugly joined. Relieved from the daily tedium of tending to the crops, she watched the valley below for the arrival of the wagon train that would bring surplus corn, potatoes and brightly coloured woven textiles to Machu Pichu from other villages from within the empire.

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of Taruca who had ridden in from Cuzco for the feast of Inti-Raymi, the Festival of the Sun, which would take place tomorrow; the shortest day of the year.

Betrothed as children to cement the ties between their families, they had been separated when Taruca had passed the test to study in Cuzco. Now that Huallpa had reached 13 summers and Taruca's training was complete, they would begin their new lives together in the house that had been built for them. She hoped that he would treat her with the same kindness that her father had shown to her mother before he went to live in the Sun’s warmth.

Suddenly feeling bereft and restless, Huallpa turned her back on the magnificent view and wandered over to the rising column of stone that would be central to tomorrow’s celebrations.

At noon, the pointed intihuatana would cast no shadow and the priests would shackle the Sun to the stone so that it could not escape and leave the world in darkness. Afterwards, the llamas would be sacrificed on the altar, the blood soaking wetly into their white fur as the priests lifted out their still-beating hearts and offered them to the God in exchange for a good harvest and success in battle. The miracle of the changing seasons; of rebirth, would be celebrated for days.

Looking around to check that she was alone, Huallpa rested her forehead against the stone as she had secretively done so many times before. Immediately, she was catapulted into the spirit world. Expecting to be met by her father’s welcoming shade, Huallpa was shocked to be pulled into a nightmare of death and devastation.

Everywhere she looked, people were dying or dead. Suppurating blisters covered the mouths and noses of the sick as fever-dreams racked their bodies. The skeletal figure of a woman ranted and raved about a war between brothers and the emperor’s impending death as she spat blood and foul smelling fluid from her grotesquely swollen lips. Another woman clothed in urine-soaked rags held her baby to her bosom though it was clearly long dead and rotting. The dead baby opened its eyelids, exposing the hollow skull beneath. It cried through maggot-ridden lips and the sound was unlike anything Huallpa had ever heard before. She could only stand in the centre of the maelstrom and bear witness. A faceless apparition babbled madly about warriors with white skins that would arrive in boats bigger than houses. “The Sun is vanquished! The Sun is vanquished”, it screamed as it disappeared from her view.

Desperate to flee from this terrifying prophesy, Huallpa tried something she’d overheard her mother talking about. Holding her breath, she willed herself to black out in an attempt to break the stone’s hold on her consciousness.

Huallpa came to with the sharp smell of burning herbs in her nostrils and the anxious face of her mother hovering above her. She lifted herself up to take the clay jar of water her mother offered and opened her mouth to speak.

“Do not tell of what you saw, daughter", her mother warned with a whisper.

Unable to understand, Huallpa said, “But the people have to know! I have to tell the priests!"

“Every woman with the gift sees the destruction of our people and our way of life, my child. Some have spoken up and been put to death for what our leaders believe to be treasonous prophesies. There is no stopping the tide, Huallpa. The future will be as the God wills it.”

“How can I just forget what I saw? How can I raise a family if I fear the future, mother? How do you carry on?”

“Like others before us, we will continue to live our lives in hope of rebirth and when death comes, we will bask in the Sun’s warmth until we, like the seasons, come again. The only consolation that I can offer you, my special child, is that the Inca will not be forgotten while Machu Pichu stands.”