The Crimson Conquest 49
As he stepped into the court again, he heard the call to horse; and a
few minutes later, the uproar of the passing troop. The circumstance
was alarming. It stirred a sudden fear that Manco’s flight had been
detected. Paullo sent a page to learn its significance. The youth did
not return. He despatched a second, and sought Quehuar. He found the
old general with the others in the council room, and had hardly entered
before the second messenger returned to announce that a guard of pikemen
was at the outer door, and he had not been permitted to pass. The
palace was surrounded by guards, and all within were prisoners.
That night the humble native knelt at hi
The Crimson Conquest 49
As he stepped into the court again, he heard the call to horse; and a
few minutes later, the uproar of the passing troop. The circumstance
was alarming. It stirred a sudden fear that Manco’s flight had been
detected. Paullo sent a page to learn its significance. The youth did
not return. He despatched a second, and sought Quehuar. He found the
old general with the others in the council room, and had hardly entered
before the second messenger returned to announce that a guard of pikemen
was at the outer door, and he had not been permitted to pass. The
palace was surrounded by guards, and all within were prisoners.
That night the humble native knelt at his evening prayer, shuddering at
the infinite indifference of his god to the sorrows of Tavantinsuyu. As
twilight came, a few muffled figures stole to the edge of the square,
gazed in silence at the guarded doors and sombre walls of the
Amarucancha, and slunk away. The capture of the Inca was told in
whispers, stirring no cry for vengeance, no move to rescue. The
calamity was as irremediable and appalling as if heaven itself had
fallen. It was the wrath of Inti, not to be opposed.
A few days later, the nobles were permitted to depart: were, in the case
of Quehuar and Yumaquilque, even compelled to go; for these two would
have shared the captivity of Paullo and the household, whom the Pizarros
retained as hostages for the quiet of the empire, whose patience under
this latest blow they doubted.
*CHAPTER XXVIII*
_*Two Comrades Reunited*_
Never a knight rode forth with more of chivalry than dwelt beneath
sturdy Pedro’s breastplate when he set out in quest of Cristoval. He
went with little hope of doing more than saying a few prayers at the
grave of the cavalier and marking it with a cross; but for these offices
he would have traversed a continent.
Cristoval lay beneath an awning at the villa of the Curaca Huallampo,
well bolstered and pillowed, and bandaged to a condition of almost total
rigidity. He was looking moodily over the sparkling lake when his
reverie was disturbed by the approach of his host, accompanied,
unmistakably accompanied, by the familiar sound of a peg. The cavalier
was startled half erect, but sank back weakly as Pedro appeared with
Huallampo. The cook was breathless from a climb of the hill at his
utmost speed. At sight of his friend he increased his pace across the
terrace, grasped the extended hand, but instead of speaking, compressed
his lips as a spasm crossed his face. Roaring his words to conceal his
unsteadiness of voice, he exclaimed:—
"_Hola_, Cristoval! Do I see thee in the flesh? Blessed Virgin, it is
so! Why, man, I came to weep over thy grave! But ’t is thou, in very
truth!"
"God bless thee, Pedro," said Cristoval, with moistened eyes, pressing
the cook’s hand.
"So He hath done, old friend, in letting me see thee again. But, _Santa
Maria_! thou ’lt wrapped, and swathed, and beragged, and swaddled, like
a sore finger! Canst wiggle thy toes? Ah! ’T is a comfort. Any
broken bones? No? _Bueno_! Just full of holes—pricked, punctured,
pinked, and perforated! Hum! It might be worse. The _curaca_ saith
thou ’rt mending fast."
Cristoval nodded. "Pedro," he began anxiously, then stopped.
"Well, say on, _amigo_," said the cook, seating himself.
"Dost know—aught of Rava?"
"That I do! She is safe in the care of Father Tendilla."
Cristoval closed his eyes and turned away, his lips moving. Pedro eyed
him curiously, and shook his head. Both were silent. "Tell me about it,
Pedro," at last.
"Nay," said Pedro. "It is too long a story for the present. The
_curaca_ warneth me against much talking. Thou must be content to know
that she is unharmed. Shortly I’ll tell thee, and much history besides.
But the Ñusta Rava is in good hands." Permitting no further
conversation, he sat long, surveying the cavalier with great
satisfaction while Huallampo gave him an inventory of the various hurts.
Cristoval’s recovery had been much impeded by his condition of mind.
Fever ensued after he had been carried from Maytalca’s ruined villa, and
for days he lay between life and death. His depression told seriously
against him, and later, as he gained strength, his progress was further
hindered by restless longing to be in search of Rava. Huallampo’s
admonitions availed little against his fuming, but he was somewhat
reassured by knowing that a party had already gone to gain intelligence
of the Ñusta. Pedro’s coming with the knowledge that Rava was safe made
his convalescence rapid. Still, it was weeks before he could rise,
weeks more before he could stir abroad, and the summer was gone before
Pedro would discuss their future plans. The party brought back word
that Rava had left Xauxa for Cuzco. Cristoval was with Pedro when he
received the information.
"Then she is with the Inca, and her troubles are past," he sighed.
"Pedro, how long, thinkst thou, before I can mount?"
The cook looked at him sharply before replying. "That would depend," he
said, presently, "upon thy purpose. Thou couldst amble about the valley
to-morrow; but thou’lt not be fit to couch a lance for weeks to come,
old friend, so make no plans for campaigning. What dost think of
doing?"
"I must seek the Ñusta Rava," said Cristoval.
Pedro was not surprised, but said: "There will be danger for thee too
near Cuzco, Cristoval, and not a man in the pack whom thou mayst trust.
De Soto hath gone to the coast with the general, sick of the conquest
and on his way to Spain. But when thou hast seen the Ñusta—what then?"
Cristoval looked at him earnestly. "After that—’t is a question. Help
me with thy good head, Pedro. If she would flee with me to Xauxa we
would go to Father Tendilla—" Cristoval paused.
"She would flee with thee to Xauxa, my head upon it!" replied Pedro,
with assurance. "Or to the moon, or to the farthest star—couldst thou
furnish transportation. But after Xauxa and Father Tendilla—what next?"
"Either refuge in some remote province of Tavantinsuyu, or Panama. We
could harbor in some village near San Miguel until a ship came in; then
get aboard in secret. Only one thought goeth against my conscience, and
that is of the peril and hardship to which Rava would be again exposed.
Ah, _Madre_! I know not, Pedro—I hesitate. This flight would be not
only from Pizarro’s men, but perhaps from the Inca as well. I doubt not
that she could find faithful supporters in the venture—but it would be a
struggle; to say naught of taking her from home, friends, and country,
into another world. It is much to ask. But, what thinkst thou, old
friend?"
"I think," replied Pedro, gravely, "that she could easier bear such
suffering than her present sorrow. But you may not need to leave the
country. The Inca may prove friendly."
"I fear his friendship would help little with Pizarro dominating."
"True!" said Pedro, shaking his head. "Thou must go to Panama—and
thence to Spain, for thou’lt be safe no nearer. Now, weigh this for a
plan: Thou’lt go to Cuzco. Doubtless Huallampo will furnish thee an
escort. I will go with thee as far as Xauxa, wait for thy return with
the Ñusta, then we will go to the coast together. I will watch at San
Miguel for a ship, and will arrange thy passage with—the Señora de
Peralta. I have some moderate savings, Cristoval,—enough to purchase
the aid of a shipmaster. I can pay him double what he would get for thy
head, and have some left to silence others. What sayst thou to’t,
_amigo_?"
Cristoval seized his hand, overcome with gratitude. "Pedro, thou’rt—"
"A cook!" interrupted Pedro, returning his grasp with sudden animation.
"A cook shorn of a leg by the iniquity of Fate. A cook with but half
his share of footprints. A pruned cook. A remnant. Naught more,
Cristoval. But what thinkst thou of it?"
"By Saint Michael! Pedro, thou’rt—"
"A cook!" said Pedro again. "Let it go. Come! Discuss, comment, bandy
a word or two about the plan. Thou ’rt staring like a choked calf."
Cristoval’s face clouded. "It will not do, my good comrade," he said.
"Thou must have no part in it, save with thy counsel. Thou hast already
ventured too much for friendship’s sake. The affair at Caxamalca might
have cost thee dearly." Pedro had not told him of the thumbscrews.
"And furthermore, I cannot use thy gold. I am penniless, and could
never repay thee. Advise, and no more."
"Why, stew me to rags, Cristoval!" retorted Pedro, with irritation,
"thou dost talk as if we were not friends."
"Nay! That is as far from my thoughts as from thine. But friendship—"
"Is friendship!" blurted the cook, and would hear no further objection.
They considered it long and in detail; foresaw difficulties, and
overcame them; wrought their plans into as great perfection as plans are
often wrought—and in the event, as shall be seen, carried them as near
to execution as human plans are often carried.
The project gave a fresh impulse to Cristoval’s recovery. They disclosed
their purpose to nobody, though to Huallampo and Maytalca the cavalier
confided his wish to see the Ñusta Rava before leaving the country, and
the _curaca_ proffered his aid. Markumi should go, and as many other
men as needed, with supplies for the journey to Cuzco.
At last Pedro admitted grudgingly that his companion was fit to take the
road; and against the _curaca’s_ earnest advice they pushed their
preparations.
When the time for departure was at hand Cristoval found many an
unlooked-for pang. He was known to every man, woman, and child of the
valley; was looked upon by them with reverence, endeared to them as the
protector of their Ñusta, by his unfailing courtesy, simplicity, and
helpful interest; and finally, by their sympathy when he was lying cut
to pieces by the Cañares. All had received a kind word from the
Viracocha Cristoval, and not one of them but must bid him farewell with
a heart-felt wish that the Sun would brighten his way. When he took
leave of Maytalca the lady wept frankly, murmuring a prayer for his
welfare and a message of love to Rava when he should see her again. The
_curaca’s_ daughters, who had sat many an hour at his bedside, were not less affected.
s evening prayer, shuddering at
the infinite indifference of his god to the sorrows of Tavantinsuyu. As
twilight came, a few muffled figures stole to the edge of the square,
gazed in silence at the guarded doors and sombre walls of the
Amarucancha, and slunk away. The capture of the Inca was told in
whispers, stirring no cry for vengeance, no move to rescue. The
calamity was as irremediable and appalling as if heaven itself had
fallen. It was the wrath of Inti, not to be opposed.
A few days later, the nobles were permitted to depart: were, in the case
of Quehuar and Yumaquilque, even compelled to go; for these two would
have shared the captivity of Paullo and the household, whom the Pizarros
retained as hostages for the quiet of the empire, whose patience under
this latest blow they doubted.
*CHAPTER XXVIII*
_*Two Comrades Reunited*_
Never a knight rode forth with more of chivalry than dwelt beneath
sturdy Pedro’s breastplate when he set out in quest of Cristoval. He
went with little hope of doing more than saying a few prayers at the
grave of the cavalier and marking it with a cross; but for these offices
he would have traversed a continent.
Cristoval lay beneath an awning at the villa of the Curaca Huallampo,
well bolstered and pillowed, and bandaged to a condition of almost total
rigidity. He was looking moodily over the sparkling lake when his
reverie was disturbed by the approach of his host, accompanied,
unmistakably accompanied, by the familiar sound of a peg. The cavalier
was startled half erect, but sank back weakly as Pedro appeared with
Huallampo. The cook was breathless from a climb of the hill at his
utmost speed. At sight of his friend he increased his pace across the
terrace, grasped the extended hand, but instead of speaking, compressed
his lips as a spasm crossed his face. Roaring his words to conceal his
unsteadiness of voice, he exclaimed:—
"_Hola_, Cristoval! Do I see thee in the flesh? Blessed Virgin, it is
so! Why, man, I came to weep over thy grave! But ’t is thou, in very
truth!"
"God bless thee, Pedro," said Cristoval, with moistened eyes, pressing
the cook’s hand.
"So He hath done, old friend, in letting me see thee again. But, _Santa
Maria_! thou ’lt wrapped, and swathed, and beragged, and swaddled, like
a sore finger! Canst wiggle thy toes? Ah! ’T is a comfort. Any
broken bones? No? _Bueno_! Just full of holes—pricked, punctured,
pinked, and perforated! Hum! It might be worse. The _curaca_ saith
thou ’rt mending fast."
Cristoval nodded. "Pedro," he began anxiously, then stopped.
"Well, say on, _amigo_," said the cook, seating himself.
"Dost know—aught of Rava?"
"That I do! She is safe in the care of Father Tendilla."
Cristoval closed his eyes and turned away, his lips moving. Pedro eyed
him curiously, and shook his head. Both were silent. "Tell me about it,
Pedro," at last.
"Nay," said Pedro. "It is too long a story for the present. The
_curaca_ warneth me against much talking. Thou must be content to know
that she is unharmed. Shortly I’ll tell thee, and much history besides.
But the Ñusta Rava is in good hands." Permitting no further
conversation, he sat long, surveying the cavalier with great
satisfaction while Huallampo gave him an inventory of the various hurts.
Cristoval’s recovery had been much impeded by his condition of mind.
Fever ensued after he had been carried from Maytalca’s ruined villa, and
for days he lay between life and death. His depression told seriously
against him, and later, as he gained strength, his progress was further
hindered by restless longing to be in search of Rava. Huallampo’s
admonitions availed little against his fuming, but he was somewhat
reassured by knowing that a party had already gone to gain intelligence
of the Ñusta. Pedro’s coming with the knowledge that Rava was safe made
his convalescence rapid. Still, it was weeks before he could rise,
weeks more before he could stir abroad, and the summer was gone before
Pedro would discuss their future plans. The party brought back word
that Rava had left Xauxa for Cuzco. Cristoval was with Pedro when he
received the information.
"Then she is with the Inca, and her troubles are past," he sighed.
"Pedro, how long, thinkst thou, before I can mount?"
The cook looked at him sharply before replying. "That would depend," he
said, presently, "upon thy purpose. Thou couldst amble about the valley
to-morrow; but thou’lt not be fit to couch a lance for weeks to come,
old friend, so make no plans for campaigning. What dost think of
doing?"
"I must seek the Ñusta Rava," said Cristoval.
Pedro was not surprised, but said: "There will be danger for thee too
near Cuzco, Cristoval, and not a man in the pack whom thou mayst trust.
De Soto hath gone to the coast with the general, sick of the conquest
and on his way to Spain. But when thou hast seen the Ñusta—what then?"
Cristoval looked at him earnestly. "After that—’t is a question. Help
me with thy good head, Pedro. If she would flee with me to Xauxa we
would go to Father Tendilla—" Cristoval paused.
"She would flee with thee to Xauxa, my head upon it!" replied Pedro,
with assurance. "Or to the moon, or to the farthest star—couldst thou
furnish transportation. But after Xauxa and Father Tendilla—what next?"
"Either refuge in some remote province of Tavantinsuyu, or Panama. We
could harbor in some village near San Miguel until a ship came in; then
get aboard in secret. Only one thought goeth against my conscience, and
that is of the peril and hardship to which Rava would be again exposed.
Ah, _Madre_! I know not, Pedro—I hesitate. This flight would be not
only from Pizarro’s men, but perhaps from the Inca as well. I doubt not
that she could find faithful supporters in the venture—but it would be a
struggle; to say naught of taking her from home, friends, and country,
into another world. It is much to ask. But, what thinkst thou, old
friend?"
"I think," replied Pedro, gravely, "that she could easier bear such
suffering than her present sorrow. But you may not need to leave the
country. The Inca may prove friendly."
"I fear his friendship would help little with Pizarro dominating."
"True!" said Pedro, shaking his head. "Thou must go to Panama—and
thence to Spain, for thou’lt be safe no nearer. Now, weigh this for a
plan: Thou’lt go to Cuzco. Doubtless Huallampo will furnish thee an
escort. I will go with thee as far as Xauxa, wait for thy return with
the Ñusta, then we will go to the coast together. I will watch at San
Miguel for a ship, and will arrange thy passage with—the Señora de
Peralta. I have some moderate savings, Cristoval,—enough to purchase
the aid of a shipmaster. I can pay him double what he would get for thy
head, and have some left to silence others. What sayst thou to’t,
_amigo_?"
Cristoval seized his hand, overcome with gratitude. "Pedro, thou’rt—"
"A cook!" interrupted Pedro, returning his grasp with sudden animation.
"A cook shorn of a leg by the iniquity of Fate. A cook with but half
his share of footprints. A pruned cook. A remnant. Naught more,
Cristoval. But what thinkst thou of it?"
"By Saint Michael! Pedro, thou’rt—"
"A cook!" said Pedro again. "Let it go. Come! Discuss, comment, bandy
a word or two about the plan. Thou ’rt staring like a choked calf."
Cristoval’s face clouded. "It will not do, my good comrade," he said.
"Thou must have no part in it, save with thy counsel. Thou hast already
ventured too much for friendship’s sake. The affair at Caxamalca might
have cost thee dearly." Pedro had not told him of the thumbscrews.
"And furthermore, I cannot use thy gold. I am penniless, and could
never repay thee. Advise, and no more."
"Why, stew me to rags, Cristoval!" retorted Pedro, with irritation,
"thou dost talk as if we were not friends."
"Nay! That is as far from my thoughts as from thine. But friendship—"
"Is friendship!" blurted the cook, and would hear no further objection.
They considered it long and in detail; foresaw difficulties, and
overcame them; wrought their plans into as great perfection as plans are
often wrought—and in the event, as shall be seen, carried them as near
to execution as human plans are often carried.
The project gave a fresh impulse to Cristoval’s recovery. They disclosed
their purpose to nobody, though to Huallampo and Maytalca the cavalier
confided his wish to see the Ñusta Rava before leaving the country, and
the _curaca_ proffered his aid. Markumi should go, and as many other
men as needed, with supplies for the journey to Cuzco.
At last Pedro admitted grudgingly that his companion was fit to take the
road; and against the _curaca’s_ earnest advice they pushed their
preparations.
When the time for departure was at hand Cristoval found many an
unlooked-for pang. He was known to every man, woman, and child of the
valley; was looked upon by them with reverence, endeared to them as the
protector of their Ñusta, by his unfailing courtesy, simplicity, and
helpful interest; and finally, by their sympathy when he was lying cut
to pieces by the Cañares. All had received a kind word from the
Viracocha Cristoval, and not one of them but must bid him farewell with
a heart-felt wish that the Sun would brighten his way. When he took
leave of Maytalca the lady wept frankly, murmuring a prayer for his
welfare and a message of love to Rava when he should see her again. The
_curaca’s_ daughters, who had sat many an hour at his bedside, were not less affected.
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