The Crimson Conquest 13

The Crimson Conquest 13

There was no flinching in José as he met the threat in Pizarro’s words

and look, and he answered hotly, "Then let me not be put to a defence of

my words to Fray Mauricio."

 

De Soto and other officers had entered, followed by the friar,

unobserved and in time to catch José’s challenge. The monk moved quickly

forward and confronted the armorer. "Thou libeller! Blasphemer!

Heretic! What!—hath the Church no power to punish such as thou? But we

shall see! We shall see! Officers, seize that man! General Pizarro, I

demand his arrest in the name of the Congregation of the Holy Office!"

 

No man moved. All stood for a moment aghast at the friar’s invocation

of the dread power of the Inquisition. Its very name carried terror, and

they hated it as much as they feared its wrath. They stared in silence

at Fray Mauricio, but José alone stood unmoved. He faced the friar with

calm scorn, his tall, soldierly figure towering above him like a tree.

Cristoval glanced at Pizarro and stepped to José’s side. De Soto and

others followed, and the group faced the Dominican. The commander’s

irritation at the armorer’s criticism was smothered in resentment of the

intrusion of the Inquisition in his affairs, already difficult enough,

and in a quick detestation of Mauricio as its avowed agent.

 

"My good brother," said Pizarro, coldly, "thou hadst best reconsider thy

demand."

 

"Oppose me at thy peril, Pizarro!" shouted the friar, whirling upon him

savagely. "Dost thou know this man? Dost know that he is a Morisco—this

unknown who calleth himself José? Doth any man here know his name?"

 

"No man here knoweth my name, friar," interrupted José, "but thou shalt

have it! I am Abul Hassan Zegri—a Moor. My father was Abul Hassan

Zegri—a Moor.—And now hearken!" he thundered, approaching the monk at a

stride and glaring down into his eyes with an __EXPRESSION__ that chilled

his blood. "Hearken! If thou seekest more of me, or breathest my name

again in denunciation or accusation, to-day, to-morrow, or twenty years

hence, thou diest—and I swear it! By the Almighty, if thou barest thy

claws again at me, I’ll not spare thee! Now go! Go!—or I’ll kill thee

in thy tracks!"

 

Mauricio hurriedly retreated. José thrust his poniard back into its

sheath with a snap and faced the officers. During the outburst they had

stood petrified. His bold declaration that he was a Moor—one of a

people which had been proscribed and driven from Spain with every form

of persecution, outrage, and cruelty that hatred of their race and greed

of their wealth could inspire—staggered even Cristoval. The others had

been too much astounded, and even horror-stricken by his rash defiance

and arraignment of the Inquisition to interfere in behalf of the friar

had they been so inclined. José looked from one to another for a moment

with all the pride and fierceness of his race now aroused and burning in

his defiant eyes.

 

"Señores," he said, "ye have heard my name. There may be one among you

who liketh not the sound of it, or who would question me further. If

there be such a one, I will give him answer on horse or on foot."

 

"Nay, nay, José!" cried Cristoval, advancing and grasping his hand.

"None of us will quarrel with thy name. Thou ’rt a gallant comrade and

honest gentleman. That sufficeth. If any man here would dispute it, he

hath affair with me!"

 

"And with me!" added De Soto, with emphasis. "I believe, on my soul,

thou ’rt a good Christian, Abul Hassan Zegri, whatever thy blood. Thou

may’st count Hernando de Soto one of thy friends."

 

Hernando Pizarro and others joined in their protestation of friendship,

but the rest hung back, fearing the danger involved in adhering to a man

under ban of the Inquisition. Mendoza’s muttered "_Morisco infiel!_"

was taken up, but the group around José was too formidable to encourage

open hostility, and the rest stood sullenly apart.

 

It was noticed by the commander, who said briefly: "There shall be no

quarrel about José, nor with him.—José, or Abul Hassan Zegri, or whoever

thou art, thou ’rt among friends. Thou hast been a stanch companion,

and whilst I have power no hand shall be raised against thee. But guard

thy tongue, and beware throwing nettles to the clergy. We are far from

Seville, but the Inquisition hath long arms, as men have learned before.

But—thou ’rt not an infidel?"

 

"I am a Christian," responded the armorer with dignity.

 

"That answereth every question thou shalt be asked. Señores, this affair

is mine. It endeth here." He glanced significantly at the lowering

group around Mendoza, then, after a pause: "Now, to the business for

which I have called you together. These are my orders, and ye will see

them carried out to the letter. The captives shall be released and go

unmolested. A sufficient number shall be retained as hostages and for

such services as may be required. The Inca shall be established with

his wives and household, and shall have every privilege and liberty

consistent with security. His nobles and people are to be admitted to

him without hindrance, and for the present he shall be allowed to

conduct the affairs of the empire—with our guidance and counsel when it

seemeth expedient. The nobles shall be treated as befitteth their rank,

and we’ll have no violence offered any man or woman, noble or other. Ye

will make this understood among the men and see it enforced. Thus far

our arms have been blessed with success, but for the future as much

dependeth upon discretion as upon courage. Be prudent, therefore, as

vigilant, and vigilant as ye have been resolute.

 

"One word more: To-morrow I send a messenger to San Miguel, and with him

goeth Fray Mauricio. That is all, Señores. _Adiós_."

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER IX*

 

_*Cristoval Meets the Princess*_

 

 

There was a building fronting on the plaza which, from, the great

sculptured serpent on its wall, became known to the Spaniards as the

House of the Serpent. Plain and massive in its architecture as the

others, it covered, in a rambling fashion, a large extent of ground. By

chance the invaders had left it untouched until opened for the Inca and

his suite. Being an old Incarial palace, Atahualpa requested that he be

quartered there. This was readily granted, and Pizarro, to be near his

prisoner, moved into the building himself.

 

That part of it abutting on the square was ancient, but in later years

it had been added to from time to time until it could house five or six

score people. It extended back a hundred yards or more, enclosing one

large and two smaller courts from which entrance was given to the

various apartments. In the rear was a park filled with trees and

shrubbery, and surrounded by a high wall of stone and adobe. Since the

erection of the villa near the mineral springs the palace had been

disused, and the garden neglected; but it retained its beauty, enhanced,

perhaps, by its touch of wildness. The fountains still playing in its

shade were green with moss, the walks overgrown with grass, and wild

flowers had invaded the lawns, as if Nature had gently striven against

its artificiality. The melancholy of decay had entered the enclosure as

in preparation to greet the fallen fortune of the royal prisoner, fated

to spend many a moody hour pacing its walks and chafing in his bondage.

 

Whatever depth of hatred the Inca cherished toward his captors, however

burning his thirst for revenge, no sign betrayed them. The bitterness

of captivity must have sunk into his proud heart, but it lay hidden

beneath unvarying dignity and calm. With strength and patience which

rose above disaster and compelled the admiration of the Spaniards, he

took up the affairs of his stricken country, and with masterly readiness

stayed the demoralization already sweeping over his empire like a tidal

wave. With the few nobles left him he held his councils. Fleet

_chasquis_ were despatched to the farthest confines of his dominions,

bearing assurances of his safety, enjoining peace, and summoning his

trusted advisers.

 

Meanwhile, everything practicable was done to mitigate the hardship of

his captivity. The blue-uniformed guard in the anteroom had given place

to a detail of steel-accoutred Spaniards, and sentinels were in evidence

outside the palace walls, but the monarch saw little of them. Even the

officers did not intrude upon his privacy; though later he found

pleasure, or at least interest, in the society of certain of them and

invited them often. He gave daily audience to his people, who were

admitted freely to his presence. They found him still wearing the

_llautu_ and possessing the semblance—to all immediate intents and

purposes the actuality—of his imperial power. They were commanded by

him to be acquiescent to the strangers, by whom they were treated with

due consideration, and went away reassured.

 

The soldiers were now removed from the temporary barracks and assigned

to quarters in the houses, largely left vacant by townspeople who

availed themselves of the privilege of leaving Caxamalca. Cristoval,

with De Soto, took a dwelling not far from the palace. He dismissed

most of the Indies placed at his service, and assigned a suitable number

to the wounded Toparca, whom he left in his old quarters on the square.

 

The prince was mending rapidly under José’s skill, but was still unable

to rise. Cristoval visited him daily, thereby improving his knowledge

of Quichua and acquiring information about the country. As their

acquaintance ripened he found the noble to be very much a man, and

beneath his reserve he discovered a genuine urbanity. Toparca, on his

part influenced by gratitude, increased by Cristoval’s unfailing

thoughtfulness, had become strongly attached to his rescuer, whose

friendship he regarded as the condescension of a being somewhat more

than human.

 

Returning late one afternoon from a reconnaissance to the southward,

Cristoval stopped to inquire for the prince. He entered the patio,

rapped upon the half-open door, and, without waiting for an answer,