The Crimson Conquest 67

The Crimson Conquest 67

"Thou, my Lord Cristoval!" exclaimed Manco, advancing. "Thou ’rt

welcome, my friend, though I fear, imprudent. What hath brought thee at

this hour?—but sit. Thou ’rt weak—too weak to have ventured." He led

the visitor to a chair. Having greeted the Auqui and the priest and

seen the Inca seated, Cristoval sank into it. Manco observed him with

evident interest while waiting to hear his errand, which proved a

difficult one to begin.

 

"Sapa Inca," said Cristoval, at last, unable in his weakness fully to

control his voice, but approaching the matter with his usual directness,

"I have come to you concerning the Ñusta Rava."

 

Manco’s animated __EXPRESSION__ vanished, and he regarded the cavalier with

no sign of emotion as he answered, in tones equally impassive, "What of

the Ñusta Rava, my lord?"

 

Cristoval felt the ill omen of the change, but did not flinch, and his

voice steadied at once. "I have spoken to you of the Ñusta Rava before,

my Lord Inca, at Yucay. I think you cannot be unprepared for what I am

about to ask."

 

Manco felt the candor of his eyes and their demand for it from him. "My

Lord Cristoval," he said, frankly and regretfully, "I am not

unprepared—for what I fear thou art about to say. I confess to thee

that I have foreseen this very moment, which bringeth me infinite pain."

He rose and crossed the tent; returned and seated himself. "But, my

lord, I will not anticipate thee. Thou wouldst ask—"

 

"The hand of Rava, Sapa Inca," replied Cristoval.

 

Manco looked upon him thoughtfully before answering. "It is what I had

reason to expect, and, with mine obligation to thee, to dread. Thy

service to Tavantinsuyu hath been such that any return in my power to

make must be inadequate."

 

"Nay, pardon me, my Lord Inca," rejoined Cristoval, quickly: "I beg you

will not think that in this request it is in my thoughts to presume upon

any service it hath been my fortune to render. That hath already been

doubly rewarded by this mark of your confidence." He touched the

_llautu_. "I ask no further return."

 

"That was not my meaning, my Lord Cristoval," replied Manco, gravely.

"I was about to say that mine obligation and gratitude make it hard to

answer thy request in the way I am compelled. Compelled—for it is

beyond my power to grant. It is the ancient law of Tavantinsuyu that a

princess must marry one of the royal family; or, in the event of a

prince being wanting, then one of nobility by birth. This law is as old

as the empire, and hath been violated but once. I dare not, whatever

mine inclination, my Lord Cristoval," his eyes grew kindly "repeat its

violation. My august father set aside a law as ancient as this one, and

it hath been followed by calamities, of part of which thou art a witness

to-day. May the great Inti forfend that I do aught further to provoke

his wrath. I must refuse thee, my lord."

 

Cristoval rose unsteadily, his face more white than it had been left by

his wound. Manco rose and took his hand. "My friend," he said,

"believe, this grieveth me to the heart. I thought to tell thee these

things when thou didst plan to take the Acllahuasi. I did not, for I

knew well that it would not have altered thy purpose, nor dulled thy

courage."

 

"I thank you, my Lord Inca," replied the cavalier, and added with an

effort: "I will not urge aught that is against your conscience—God

forbid! With your leave, I will return to my tent."

 

Paullo, who had listened with color coming and going, stepped forward.

"Stay, Lord Cristoval!" he cried. "All hath not been said." He

snatched the vari-colored _llautu_ from Cristoval’s head and, his dark

eyes blazing, threw it aside. While the cavalier’s face flushed at the

seeming indignity, and the Inca’s with surprise and anger, he lifted his

own yellow diadem and placed it upon the Spaniard’s brow. Seizing

Cristoval’s hand, and facing the Inca and the Villac Vmu, he said

gravely, "My lords, I call upon you to witness that, by virtue of the

law of the Inca Tupac Yupanqui, I claim brotherhood with the Lord

Cristoval, an Inca of Tavantinsuyu by Privilege." He drew his dagger,

and with a quick movement slashed his own arm; then, glancing into

Cristoval’s astonished eyes, wounded him at the wrist and, pressing

together the two gashes, joined the ruddy streams. "Thus," he

continued, solemnly, "have we a mingled blood! Only thine edict, Sapa

Inca, can dissolve this tie and abate the princely rights of the Auqui

Cristoval, whom I have made a brother."

 

It was a long minute before the monarch recovered from the prince’s

unexpected action. The pause was hardly less dramatic. Manco looked

from one to the other, bereft of utterance, while the cavalier stood

silent, scarcely comprehending the significance of what had happened.

Paullo, gripping Cristoval’s hand, with eyes still afire, waited for

Manco. The Inca’s brow was clouded. Notwithstanding his gratitude and

friendship, the thought of admitting the Viracocha into the pure

Incarial line taxed his generosity. Had Paullo’s move been less

impetuous he would have arrested it. But the thing was done, and to be

undone only by his own formal decree. Erect and attentive, Paullo

watched his brother with something nearing defiance, while the Villac

Vmu, after his first start of surprise, had remained with his eyes upon

the ground. To Cristoval the situation became intolerable, and he said

quietly, doffing the yellow _llautu_:—

 

"Sapa Inca, consider this as not having occurred, I pray you. Could I

have anticipated the Auqui Paullo’s purpose it should have been

prevented.—Paullo," he continued, turning to the youth and placing his

hands upon his shoulders, "I thank thee more for thy generous intent

than for thy deed. Thy good-will hath taken the lead of thy sober

judgment; but I shall cherish the memory of it, do thou be sure, and

shall feel myself thy brother no less dearly bound to thee than thou

wouldst have made me. My Lord Inca Manco, I crave pardon for his

warm-hearted folly. Let it end thus, and permit me to retire."

 

Manco regarded him with grave thoughtfulness, wholly inscrutable. At

last he said abruptly to Paullo, "Assist the Lord Cristoval to his tent,

and have the nobles summoned at once." He bowed dismissal and they left

the tent.

 

During the remainder of the night the grim old warriors were gathered

about their young lord in council. Toward dawn Cristoval was roused by a

summons. The lamps were burning low when he paused at the door of the

Inca’s tent, glancing at the circle of faces, some familiar, many

strange, but all turned toward him in stolid dignity and silence.

Paullo greeted and led him to the Inca. For the solemn expectancy about

him, Cristoval might have been approaching to receive the sentence of

death. Manco met his eyes in a swift glance, deep and inscrutable as

before, and took from the Villac Vmu the yellow _llautu_. He placed the

diadem upon the head of the cavalier, saying as he did so:—

 

"Witness, my lords! and give your homage to the Auqui Cristoval. It is

my will."

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XXXIX*

 

_*Again the Señora Descends*_

 

 

AS soon as Pedro was sufficiently recovered he was sent to Yucay. On

the morning of his departure the Inca, with Cristoval, Paullo, and

Mocho, entered his tent. Manco said farewell with a few warm words of

commendation and gratitude that brought a mist before the eyes of the

wounded cook, unclasping a gorget of pearls and emeralds. "Accept this,

brave Viracocha Pedro," he said, "as a part __EXPRESSION__ of mine esteem

and appreciation. It is but a trifle, but with it goeth much

good-will."

 

Pedro gasped at the princely gift and stammered, part in Quichua, part

in Spanish: "Why, stew—Nay, Señor Inca, I deserve it not! I am but a—a

comrade of this man Cristoval. What fighting I have done, I tell you

frankly, hath been mainly out of friendliness for him, and for the sake

of being along to keep him out of trouble. This, my Lord Inca, is

beyond my merits."

 

The Inca understood the gist of his words, and shook his head with a

slight smile. "Not so, Viracocha! Thy merit is the greater for thy

friendship. Thou shalt keep it. Farewell, and a quick recovery.

Thou’lt find good friends in Yucay." He gave the cook his hand and

departed abruptly to avoid his thanks.

 

Cristoval remained after the others, and Pedro stared at him blankly.

At length he said slowly: "Now, spit me through the middle with a

church-spire—I’d be less surprised! The man is reckless, Cristoval, or

knoweth not the market-worth of gems. Do thou draw him aside and advise

him that ’t is a grand-duke’s ransom, this bauble, and hand it back."

 

"Absurd, Pedro!" said Cristoval. "Rest thy mind, for ’t is but a part

of what he intendeth for thee."

 

"But I tell thee, Cristoval, it will burden my conscience. Had I come by

it in honest looting in a Christian war—but this is akin to thievery.

Thou’lt take it back to him, _amigo_!"

 

"Assuredly not, Pedro! Wouldst give him offence?"

 

Pedro looked troubled. "He knoweth not its worth, Cristoval. Moreover,

should Pizarro learn that I have it, I’d not be safe a blessed minute.

I should be invaded, overrun with fire and sword; given up to wrack,

sack, and devastation; left a waste and ruin more ruinous than thou

see’st me now. I’ve suffered losses a-plenty, my friend—not counting

legs—without this novel liability. Do thou restore it."

 

"Gods, thou’rt a worried cook!—for a cook with a fortune in hand."

 

"Ah!" sighed Pedro. "_Crescentem sequitur cura pecuniam_—Horace,

Cristoval. Meaneth, care followeth upon increasing riches. Stew me—"

 

"Oh, _Madre_! Have done with thy plaints. Now be still whilst I give

thee a message to Rava."

 

"God bless her!" said Pedro, and after a pause, "I listen. But make it

not over long, and prithee, adapt its terms to the grossness of my

texture. No endearments, Cristoval, and no poetry!"

 

Cristoval blushed. "No, no!" he said quickly. "It will be short, and

suited to thy decorous taste, count upon it."

 

"Then I’ll compass it. But as well put sugar-lumps and lollipops in a

mess of boiled cabbage as to fill me with blandiments for recitation.

I’m no troubadour, Cristoval. Bear that in mind."

 

"No fear, thou Spartan cook!" growled Cristoval, with a trace of

embarrassment. "I intend it all to be prose."