Part 19

Inside the gate Duero dismissed his remnant of the Canares. Taking up the silent and closely curtained _hamaca_, the Spaniards were presently pounding at the _veedor's_ door. An Indio servant opened to them, and the litter was carried into the court. Apprised of its arrival, Rogelio hurried out.

Duero ignored his greeting and demanded bluntly: "Where is the cage, Senor _Veedor_? Here is the bird."

"Oh, my stars!" snuffled Rogelio, rubbing his hands and sidling round the _hamaca_. "Is she there, indeed?--and in good condition, Duero? Remember, that was part of the stipulation--that she should be unharmed, and in good condition."

"As to being unharmed, I'll answer for it," replied the soldier. "As for her condition, you can figure for yourself what it is like to be after such a journey. Where will you have her put? Come! We're weary."

"This way," said Rogelio, in a fluster. "The room is all prepared--a bower, Duero, a very bower! He, he! Wait! I'll fetch a lamp." He scuttled away, reappeared with a light, and led the way to a door opening upon the patio. It was fastened with a heavy padlock. Fumbling for a second, he threw open the door. The _hamaca_ was carried in, the door closed, and while Rogelio edged round eagerly with the lamp, striving for a glimpse, Duero threw back the curtains and lifted Rava, almost lifeless, from the litter. She moaned as he bore her to the couch, and he hastened to remove the bonds and gag she had worn since nearing Xauxa. She gave no other evidence of animation.

"Here--the light!" commanded Duero, gruffly, and took it without ceremony from the _veedor's_ hand, bending over the girl in scrutiny. Rogelio hovered about, twisting his fat fingers, and straining to have a look at the pale, drawn face almost hidden by her disordered tresses. It was a face to move the compassion of a savage. The rough soldier felt its pathos, for he straightened up and said brusquely:--

"She needeth looking after, 't is a certainty. Fetch a woman at once, Senor _Veedor_."

"A woman!" piped Rogelio. "Why, there's no woman about. I have spoken for one, and may have her to-morrow."

"No woman about!" exclaimed Duero, turning upon him sternly. "Do you say there is none to give this girl the care she needeth?"

"To-morrow--" began the _veedor_ weakly.

"To-morrow!--To-night! This night, _Veedor_, or she goeth to Xauxa." Duero's black eyes travelled over Rogelio with an expression the latter did not care to meet.

"To-night! Impossible, Duero!" he whined. "There is not a woman in the fortress save two just come from San Miguel, and they--" He shook his head.

"Then, Senor, you will fetch one from Xauxa," said Duero, with determination.

"Curse me if I will!" retorted the _veedor_, angrily. "And look thou, Duero: this is mine affair. Thy part in it is done. Thou'lt refrain from meddling."

Duero motioned his companions forward, and stepped to raise the Nusta. At the move Rogelio forgot himself and sprang forward with a snarl and curse to interpose, but recollected himself at once when Duero, dagger half-drawn, thrust an elbow beneath his chin and met his eyes with a scowl so malevolent that he caught breath with a sudden weakening of his knees. As the _veedor_ retreated with a gasp Duero followed him steadily with his glare, then turned again with deliberation to the couch. The _veedor_ raised a shaking hand to his throat as if he expected to find it already cut, and quavered:--

"My--my soul--and body, Duero! Thou'rt sudden! Wait! I--fiends and goblins!--I'll go if it will please thee."

"It will," said Duero, briefly. "See that you do. We will tarry until your return. But first, a small cup of _chicha_. We must warm her blood, or your woman will find a corpse. Do you hear, _Veedor_? A cup of _chicha_!"

The _veedor_ started painfully and waddled away. He was back in a moment with the liquor. The soldier forced a few drops between the pallid lips of the Nusta, and vigorously chafed her hands and arms. A fierce, unprincipled rascal in most respects, he was endowed with a rough warmth of heart to which the helpless state of his captive made silent appeal. He worked with what gentleness was in him, and when at last Rava opened her pathetic eyes he motioned his companions out of the room with the _hamaca_. Rogelio lingered near, but a gesture from Duero and the menace in his eyes sent him back into the shadow, whispering a futile anathema. When the unhappy girl revived somewhat the soldier drew a robe over her, and leaving her sobbing desolately among the pillows, gripped Rogelio's arm and led him out. He locked the door, and to the _veedor's_ astonishment and rage, pocketed the key. The other commenced a shrill expostulation, but the burly Duero merely hunched a shoulder at him with chin thrust out and a sidelong glance of quiet viciousness that stopped his railing abruptly. Rogelio led the way to his room with no further word, followed by his four sullen hirelings.

They ranged themselves round his table in silence. The _veedor_ stood glancing uneasily from one scowl to another, then piped in irritation: "Well, gentlemen, your task is finished, isn't it? Come now, my good friends, the hour groweth late. Return in the morning, and I'll give you your hire."

Duero stepped forward, planting a powerful fist upon the table and hitching at his belt: "Senor _Veedor_, we'll have our hire now! Then, when you have brought some one to look after the senorita, our business is done. In the meantime, with your leave--or without it--we wait here. She must be cared for before morning. But now, our gold."

Rogelio blinked about the circle, snuffled, and went out. Having closed the door, his rage overflowed in a series of frenzied gesticulations in the direction of Duero, accompanied by suppressed grunts and squeaks, until he was swollen in feature and quite breathless. He returned with a bag and pair of balances. They looked on with vigilance while he weighed out the gold, the lamp illuminating swarthy faces full of eagerness--except that of Duero, which was only watchful and grim.

"There!" snapped the employer. "Two thousand _castellanos_. Take it."

Duero extended an arm to withhold the others and said, coolly, "Double it!"

The _veedor_ staggered back with the bag clasped in his arms. "Wha--what?" he gasped.

"I say, double it!" replied Duero, with force.

Rogelio stared at him with fallen chin.

"Double it!" repeated the soldier, and returned the stare fixedly.

"Fiends!" shrieked the _veedor_. "Man, thou 'rt mad! What was our bargain?"

"That acquitteth the bargain, Senor, but there are damages."

"Damages! What damages?"

"Why, to our several consciences, _Veedor_. Mine, I'll swear, hath stood a wear and tear that hath left not remnants enough to equip a dog! 'T is a most villanous piece of villany, and promiseth to grow worse when our hands are out of it. By the crucifix! Senor Rogelio, my soul will need masses for this affair, and I mean to provide for them. You will make it double, or the girl goeth to Xauxa this night; and I'll have the Senor Inca notified--or mayhap, Mendoza."

"Scoundrels, bandits, thieves!" screamed Rogelio, his face purple and hands shaking. Duero took a step toward him with a movement to his sword-hilt, and the victim retreated to the wall, hugging his gold and rolling his eyes in terror. The soldier surveyed him with contempt.

"Well," he demanded, "what do you say? Must we lug her back to Xauxa? Answer, and quickly, for I sicken."

"Oh, gentlemen!" wailed Rogelio, "be honest. Be just. Be considerate of a poor man."

Duero broke in with imitation of his whine: "Oh, be open-handed. Be charitable. Be virtuous. Faugh! You offend my bile. Come. Yes, or no! Do you double it? 'T is indifferent to us, for the Inca, or Mendoza, will know how to reward. But answer!"

Rogelio rolled his eyes to heaven, then lagged forward to the table and took up the scales. "Oh, my good men, 't is--"

"Cease!" commanded Duero. "We are no good men. Had we been, you had not approached us. Weigh out, and be done."

The _veedor_ heaved a long, shuddering sigh, and weighed the gold.

"Now," said Duero, "to your horse, and to Xauxa."

"Oh, curses!" protested the _veedor_. "Art not finished? I've paid thee twice!"

"Go!" shouted Duero, stamping his foot. "Order your horse. I'll see you to the gates."

Rogelio went out with a groan. In half an hour he was riding down the hill, panting an imprecation at every step. Duero returned from the gate whither he had escorted him, and calling the servant, ordered the best the _veedor's_ larder afforded. Then the villains held carnival.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

_*Rogelio Finds Gall and Wormwood*_

Pedro was extinguishing the lights of his _cantina_ when he heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs. They stopped at his door, and Rogelio entered, perspiring, breathless, and in violent perturbation.

"Ho, Senor _Veedor_, thou dost ride late!" exclaimed Pedro, in surprise. "There is something amiss?"

Rogelio sank upon the nearest stool, panting and wiping away perspiration, on the verge of apoplexy from exertion and rage combined. The danger of it seemed to strike Pedro at once. He hurried forward and commenced fanning the official vigorously with his apron.

"Steady, steady, Senor!" he urged, soothingly. "Do not try to talk. Take time and spare thy wind. Thou 'rt gasping like a ducked hen.--Nay, nay! Do not swear. Be tranquil. Calm thyself. Count ten, Senor--now do! Believe me, naught doth so soothe a fit of ferment. But--swearing again! Gently, gently, or thou'lt melt in thine own heat! Gods, man! Cease rolling thine eyes. Hast a cramp under thy belt? Let me thump thy back.--Ah!"

Pedro pummelled the agitated _veedor_ between the shoulders with hearty vigor, and succeeded thereby in expelling what little breath he had remaining, rendering him still more helpless from exasperation. He saved himself by bolting from his seat and backing against the wall, where he stood waving his arms in speechlessness to keep the zealous cook away.

"Name of a saint, my friend!" said Pedro, with great concern, after Rogelio began to breathe more freely, "I never saw an over-gorged pup nearer a fit than thou. What hath gone wrong?"

"She--hath arrived!" gasped the _veedor_ at length.

"Oh! She hath arrived, hath she? Well, she must be a very tarantula to work thee a spell like that, Senor! By the gods, even Bolio's coming could not give me such a bedevilment of jerks and palpitations!"

The _veedor_ was rendered speechless again. Pedro eyed him with great commiseration until he showed signs of recovery, then threw him into another spasm by inquiring with solicitude,

"Doth the lady pursue, Senor? If so, we will barricade the door."

Rogelio held up his hands, violently shaking his head. "No, no!" he managed to say. "Damned--numskull! Let me--talk."

"Why, talk, to be sure! 'T is what I've waited for,--to hear thee talk. What the devil dost think? that I've been standing here this while to see thee contort and strangle? I had liefer watch a pig in the colic. Proceed, _Veedor_, and talk. It may ease thy mind. _Sensa animi tui libere profare_--Latin, Senor, and it meaneth, speak freely. Prithee, begin. I listen."

The _veedor_ had collapsed into a chair, choking with rage. He sprang up, shaking both fists at the cook, and started toward the door; turned back, and waving his arms for silence, howled: "Accursed--rattle-teeth!--hear me!--I seek a servant!"

"Thou seekest a servant!" responded Pedro, with composure. "Well, by heaven, I could guess it! And thou needest, not one, but a dozen, I should say; and a strait-jacket withal. But, _infierno_! is the quest of a servant so delirious a pursuit?--Now, do be calm, Senor! Hold a minute, and I'll bleed thee. No? But 't would be wise, my friend, for if thou 'rt not on the edge of the staggers, then I never gave physic to a horse.--And now thou'rt swearing again! Fie, _Veedor_! Here! Let me get thee a wet rag."

Pedro hurried away. When he returned the _veedor_ had regained his utterance, and waving aside the proffered application, he shouted:--

"Keep off, thou babbling moon-calf! Wilt hear me? I need a servant--at once! A servant--dost hear? A servant--and may the fiend claw thy vitals! Canst get me one--to-night? I'll pay thee well."

"Well, stew me! if the need of a servant wrought me to such a state of mind, I'd----" Pedro seated himself. "But 't is late, _Veedor_. Thy guest hath come, sayst thou?"

"Yes, yes! She is sick from weariness, and needeth a woman. Wilt find me one?"

Pedro became serious at once. "Sick! Then 't is pressing. Let me think. There is Senora Bolio, for a possibility. She might consent to go, but she knoweth no Quichua. That, however, might be an advantage, not so? Less apt to connive at escape." Pedro eyed the _veedor_ watchfully.

"Yes! _Diablo_, yes!" said Rogelio, eagerly. "Canst persuade her?"

"I'll try," said Pedro, rising. He threw off his apron and started toward the door; halted, and came back, determined to test his suspicion. "Senor," he said, abruptly, "how did they get her away from Peralta? Did they kill him? If not, then I swear to thee, _Veedor_, thou 'rt as good as dead!" and Pedro slowly shook his head in direst portent.

The _veedor_ was unguarded. He started violently, and his face went ashy. "Oh, my soul and body! I--I forgot to ask them." He scanned the cook with quick suspicion. "How in the devil's name dost know?" he demanded. Pedro placed a finger beside his nose, wagged his head with deep significance, and went out. Now it was his turn to be agitated.

He pegged straight to the senora's lodging, and pounded upon the door until it opened. "Quick!" he cried. "The Viracocha woman! There is sickness."

The native made him repeat it, refastened the door, and left Pedro in a fume. When she opened again, it was with a request to follow, and led him across the court. The senora appeared at a door with an under-garment over her shoulders. "Is it thou, Pedro?" she asked, sleepily. "What is to do? This is an unholy hour to wake a body, dost not know it?"

Pedro pushed the door open, and entered. "'T is a crying need," he said, and hastily explained.

"Who is this girl?" demanded the senora, with a pang of jealousy.

"Peralta's enamorada," replied the cook, thinking he lied, but venturing it to quiet her suspicion.

"And who this Rogelio?" asked the senora.

"A toad!" answered Pedro. "Wilt go? I will ride with thee to the fortress."

The senora was retying the fagged end of her braid.

"A favor to me, _carita_," urged Pedro.

"I will go," said Senora Bolio.

"Then come to the _cantina_ as soon as thou 'rt clad. I will have thy mule," and he hastened away. By the time the animals were saddled the lady arrived, her battle-axe beneath her arm, wrapped in a bundle of apparel. Pedro strapped it to her saddle, and summoning the fevered _veedor_, assisted the senora to mount. As they rode out on the quiet road, Rogelio leading, the cook gave further history of the Nusta, together with certain sidelights on the _veedor_. They reached the fortress, and having seen the two through the gate, Pedro returned, relieved for Rava, but sadly disturbed by thoughts of Cristoval.

The senora followed her conductor to his door. As he dismounted a sound of revelry stole out upon the night, and the _veedor_ dashed in. The neglected lady sniffed after him scornfully, swung herself out of the saddle, unstrapped her belongings, led her mule into the patio, and followed the _veedor_ to a half-open door. The unfortunate Rogelio was doomed to further bitterness. The room was lighted by all the lamps of the establishment. Duero and his companions were seated round a well-laden board, a bowl of steaming punch in the midst, and had arrived at the jovial stage. As Rogelio entered and stood blinking at the brilliancy, his fat chin wagging with renewed rage at their effrontery, they surveyed him a moment, and burst into a shout of laughter. Duero raised his cup.

"Hail, good host, liberal entertainer, most hospitable mate!" roared he. "Thou 'rt welcome. Enter! Come, leave diffidence outside. Thou 'rt not intruding--now is he, _camaradas_? No! Sit and make free. What is ours is thine--not so, _camaradas_? _Segaramente_! _Hola_!" He sprang to his feet as the senora appeared at the door. "Blessed angels of Heaven, what do I see? The Senora Bolio!" He advanced with a profound bow. "Welcome, Senora, most welcome! Upon my heart, 'tis like the sight of a nosegay from Old Castile! Ho, _companeros_!--your courtesies to _Senora la Conquistadora_!" He bowed again, answered by the lady with a glare of cold disdain.

"Miscreants, knaves, cutthroats!" shrieked Rogelio. "You shall pay dear for this night!"

Duero surveyed him darkly, hunched his shoulder, and thrust out his chin, and the _veedor_ sank into a chair. The soldier eyed him for a moment, and turned to the lady. "Senora, I surmise thou hast come to care for the girl. She needeth it, God knoweth, and the less time lost the better. Come. I have the key."

Rogelio sprang up to follow, but once more the hunch of shoulder, the thrust of chin, and the scowling look askance, and he sat. Duero winked at the senora as he turned to lead the way, and ignoring her snort of resentment of the liberty, went out. She followed, and halting at the Nusta's door, he said, as he unfastened, "Pedro hath told thee of this Rogelio?"

"Briefly, that he is a toad," responded the senora.

"Brief, but most precise! Pedro hath a good head. Now, Senora, I'll leave thee to enter, and the door unlocked. If thou hast need of aught, thou'lt find us entertaining the _veedor_ for an hour or more. I'll have him send a bowl of broth at once. Adios."

Duero rejoined the others, and they sat long making their host unhappy; then, having promised him with evident sincerity that if he whispered a complaint he would find himself some morning with a severed windpipe, they took their leave.

Senora Bolio went to the couch. Rava had raised her head, but perceiving the invader was a woman, rose to her knees, her eyes streaming, and voice broken with sobs. With arms outstretched, she poured forth an impassioned supplication in words to the stranger unknown,--in words unknown, but with meaning clear, and an eloquence that went straight to the heart of the senora. For the senora had a heart. It beat somewhat wildly at times, and at times with vehement hostility toward the sex which had worked it countless wrongs; but like other hearts that flame, it had its gentler warmth. The appeal of the injured and helpless girl touched her womanliness, and she hastened to her side.

"Poor dearie!" she exclaimed, seating herself and drawing the sobbing prisoner to her breast. "Poor little waif! Have they been cruel, these men? Ah, may the devil roast them well! Do not weep, love. Do not weep, chiquita. They shall not harm thee more. Let the _veedor_ beware. Let him come to trouble thee, and we'll unjoint him--will we not, little one? We'll put a twist in his neck, thou and I, that will let him look at his shoulderblades to his heart's content--will we not, my dove? Ah! That we'll do, and more, if he but roll his eyes aslant at thee!"

With soft voice and motherly caress, the senora soothed the heart-broken Rava; her words--perhaps quite as well--without meaning to the girl, but her tones replete with sympathy. Rava clung to her as to a last hope, becoming gradually more calm, until a knock at the door stirred her terror afresh. Releasing her, the senora sprang up. Grimly she stripped her battle-axe, and stepped to the door. The servant recoiled.

"Ah, 'tis thou!" the lady exclaimed, and received the broth.

The strength it gave aided her efforts to restore calm to the despairing captive, and in an hour Rava slept. Her guardian sat long, nursing a waxing enmity for the authors of the maiden's sorrows, and for Rogelio in particular; then, having with fell purpose placed her weapon conveniently at hand, she lay down beside her _protegee_.

She awoke early, astonished to find Rava kneeling with hands clasped in prayer, a silver crucifix before her on her pillow, the Latin periods, in her quaint, hesitating accents, sounding strangely. The senora joined her orison, then turned to her in surprise.

"A Christian, thou?" she asked, taking her hand.

Rava understood the word, and assented eagerly. "Cristoval!" she said, and touched the crucifix, her eyes filling at the name.

"Ah! Peralta! The stout freebooter with the good voice. I know him," and the senora nodded emphatically. "Art baptized, child?"

This word was familiar also, and Rava nodded her head; then said eagerly: "Father Tendilla! Father Tendilla!"

"Father Tendilla!" exclaimed Senora Bolio. "Thou knowest him? Blessed thought!--we'll send a word to Father Tendilla. Aha, Rogelio, sniffling obesity, we shall see! We'll choke thee with thine own unholy purpose, or I'm not Bolio. Rogelio, indeed! If, now, Pedro will but come!" She patted Rava's arm reassuringly and arose.

Meanwhile the _veedor_, with eyes puffed and bloodshot from a night of scanty sleep and much exacerbation, was breakfasting. At intervals he paused, laid down his knife, and sat rubbing his hands in pleasing meditation while he chewed. Then his complacent smile would fade, and he would cease both to rub his hands and to chew while he irefully reviewed the night's indignities. "Caitiffs! Perfidious scoundrels! Vipers! Only wait! Rogelio hath not done. If he live not to see the garrote at every one of your rascally throats, then 't is because he shall be short-lived. Wait, my over-cheerful bullies: we'll have another settling of this account, and 't is Rogelio will split his sides! But, oh, my stars, what a cost! Four thousand--oh, calamities!" Then, as the matter slowly revolved in his mind and the other aspect came uppermost, he would begin to chew again with a returning smirk of satisfaction. "But what a prize! Eh, Rogelio, what a prize! And safely housed--in the cage, as Duero put it!--accursed knave! serpent! Four--oh, my soul and body!--But, oho! Mendoza, thou uncouth ruffian, how now? Rogelio hath overmatched thee, despite thy rant and swagger. He, he! The fox and the bull--the fox and the bull! Ah, but thou 'rt a rogue, Rogelio! a sad rogue and sly! And thou'lt be reimbursed the four thousand--oh, my life, yes! Her jewels ought to do that. Did she wear jewels last night? Murder! I did not think to look. But 't is like Duero looked out for that--or that prison-bird, Peralta." Rogelio's countenance fell. Presently it brightened. "But we have her, and now it is to be seen how she will receive thee, Rogelio--her daring captor! Doubtless with charming terrors and maidenly trembling. Oh, these delightful women! Shy, timid, alluring! Bless their souls--if they have souls. He, he!"