Part 21

Before the Amarucancha the escort halted, and passing a double line of kneeling nobles, the Nusta was borne beneath the sculptured serpents. The first court was crowded, but she had barely time for a glance before her hands were seized by the Auqui Paullo, her younger brother, who had sprung to the side of the _hamaca_. Rava embraced him fondly and was about to alight when she saw a familiar, swarthy countenance near the door of the audience chamber. The owner was looking intently, and as he caught her eyes, doffed his sombrero and started forward. Her heart seemed to cease beating. Paullo was startled by her suddenly heightened pallor.

"Great Inti!" he cried, in alarm. "What is it, Rava? Art ill?"

She grasped his arm convulsively. "Quick, oh, quick!" she gasped. "Order my bearers forward--to my apartments!" and she sank, almost fainting, into the shadow of the curtains. Mendoza halted with a shrug as the _hamaca_ was raised, replaced his sombrero, and turned back. "By the demon!" he muttered, with an unpleasant smile, "our haughty Senorita Nusta seemeth to disdain old acquaintance. _No importa_! _No importa_! There are other days to follow."

As he entered the hall he cast a glance over his shoulder at the _hamaca_ just disappearing into another court, and clicked his tongue in his cheek.

*CHAPTER XXVI*

_*The Inca Manco*_

Ignoring the salutes of the two sentinels of the royal guard, Mendoza lounged into the audience room and stood leaning against the wall near the door. It was a spacious apartment, resplendent with the usual profusion and wealth of mural decoration thus far left undisturbed by Pizarro's rapacious followers. At the farther end of the hall an assemblage of natives stood at some distance from the throne, on which was seated the young Inca Manco. Behind him stood a group of nobles, and at his side, on a lower seat, was Almagro, commandant of the city in the absence of Pizarro, then on an expedition to the coast. On the left of the throne, in the front line of nobles, were Juan and Gonzalo Pizarro, recently superseded in command by Almagro, and now alcaldes of Cuzco. These three officials, with eight Spanish regidores, constituted the municipal government established by Pizarro. To the Inca had been left the insignia of sovereignty, and little more. He had the privilege of his councils and the conduct of his realm so far as these did not conflict with Spanish interests; but, as now, the Conquistadors were at his elbow in humiliating censorship.

The Inca Manco was a youth of twenty years, though his serious and resolute expression made him look more mature. He resembled his half-brother Atahualpa, but his countenance, of a finer type, was lacking in the other's fierceness, and in its delicate modelling was more like that of the Nusta Rava. As he sat listening to the _curaca_ of a distant town who had brought a case for adjudication, he wore an air of thoughtful gloom. The lines of care about his mouth and eyes vanished when he spoke, announcing his judgment in brisk, quiet tones, full of decision and confidence. The decree was favorable to the speaker, and as the latter uttered his gratitude the Inca spoke again briefly and in lowered voice, his face alight with a trace of pleasure. The _curaca_ retired, and the next, an aged man, advanced with hesitation, and having knelt with head bowed to the floor, seemed unable to finish his obeisance, but remained prostrate. The Inca said kindly, the customary address strangely inconsistent with their disparity of age, "Rise, my son, rise! We are waiting."

The old man rose painfully, and in a voice unsteady with age and emotion, told of outrage that brought hot blood to his sovereign's cheek. The night before--he had been waiting all day to make his complaint--his house had been broken into by a Viracocha soldier, and his granddaughter carried away. His voice rose as he finished, and he tottered forward to the dais, extending his trembling old hands in appeal.

"In the name of the God who shineth in mercy upon us both, Sapa Inca, I pray to you for vengeance! She is but a child--a mere child--and the light of mine old life. Grant that your just wrath shall fall upon the head accursed of the son of that wholly accursed race."

The Inca had started partly to his feet, his dark eyes ablaze. He sat again. "Where is the girl?" he demanded, hoarsely.

"Cowering in the darkest corner of the darkest chamber of her home, Sapa Inca--half mad--a blighted bud--a blemished pearl!" He turned abruptly upon Almagro, who, unacquainted with the Quichua, had given him little heed, lolling wearily in his chair.

"O, thou Viracocha, offspring of Supay!" cried the old Indio, shaking his clenched hands toward the Spaniard, "dost yawn at my sorrow, monster? Hast the heart of a wolf--thou who wearest the aspect of a man? May the great Inti strike thee with thrice my grief, thrice mine infirmities!"

Almagro, listening with some surprise to the violent apostrophe, looked toward the younger Pizarro: "What saith he, Juan?"

"By God, he hath told a tale of bitter wrong, Diego!" responded the other, vehemently. "One of our men hath stolen his girl. It calleth for the garrote, or I'm an Ethiopian!"

Almagro sat up and glanced quickly at the Inca, who raised his hand to silence the complainant, and was now regarding the commandant with stern eyes and burning cheeks.

"Viracocha Almagro," said Manco, "before thy general went from Cuzco he engaged that neither house nor person of my subjects should suffer violation. Thy soldier hath committed a crime which is punished in Tavantinsuyu with death. I look to thee for vindication."

"Why, blood and wounds!" exclaimed the cavalier, when Manco's words had been translated. "Tell him, Juan, that we will indemnify with--Fiends! but these people set no store by money. Say, then, that we will punish with any just severity--short of death. That is out of reason."

The Inca's eyes were fixed steadily upon Almagro while the answer was being made known to him. "Viracocha," he said coldly, "this outrage is not the first of its kind. Now, I demand the penalty of death."

Almagro's scarred face flushed as his single eye met the Inca's frown, and he replied bluntly: "I refuse! Tell him I refuse, Juan. We'll make what reparation lieth within our power, but curse me if we'll waste a soldier at any man's behest!" and Almagro glanced defiantly from the Inca to the stern faces of his nobles.

Manco rose abruptly, dismissed his court with a few quick words, and left the dais. As he passed the old man he spoke to him in an undertone, and touching his white head lightly as he sank upon his knees, moved toward the door, followed by his suite.

Almagro sprang to his feet. "How now, my puppet king! Dost turn us an angry back? For the price of a breath of air I'd trim the fringe from thy toy of a diadem!"

"Not so loud, Diego!" remonstrated Juan Pizarro. "He hath good offence. I tell thee, we are not wise to make light of this soldier's trespass, _amigo_. One such outrage unpunished will breed a thousand, and before we are aware the country will be about our ears. 'T is a cut at their tenderest sensibility. I say, hang the knave and keep the peace."

"Kill a good fighting man for the sake of a twig of a heathen girl! Thou 'rt mad, Juan. I had as lief sacrifice a horse. We'll iron him for forty days, and the matter will be forgotten. Come! Set the business afoot. Have a public trial and advertise thy zeal, then keep the affair hanging until interest is worn out. Parade justice for a week, and these varlets will forget their grievance. _Vamos_!" They left the empty hall, and indifferent to the dark looks of the throng in front of the palace, sought their quarters in the old palace of the Inca Tupac Yupanqui.

With the few nobles so privileged, Manco went to his apartments. Controlling his agitation, he faced his counsellors. For a moment he studied each, reading under their impassiveness the fire smouldering in his own breast. In the group was Villaoma, the Villac Vmu, or high priest of the empire, most sagacious of his advisers, as he had been before to Huayna Capac and to the ill-fated Huascar. The old priest met his look with one of keen scrutiny. Manco had been his favorite, and from boyhood had been watched with an interest as deep and hopeful as if of his own flesh and blood. Manco's admission to the military order came when Cuzco was prostrate before the conqueror Atahualpa, her armies scattered, and the Inca Huascar a prisoner in the fortress at Xauxa. When Pizarro, after the death of Atahualpa, marched upon the capital with the new Inca, Toparca, Manco reassembled the forces of Cuzco and prepared for resistance. Following the counsel of the Villac Vmu, Prince Manco had suspended hostilities after Toparca's death and laid before Pizarro his own claim to the imperial _llautu_, temporarily humiliating himself to forestall such other pretender as this king-maker might advance. If he had underestimated the cost of this surrender of dignity to policy, the Villac Vmu did not share his mistake; and when the monarch presently realized the penalty for his pawned manhood, the stings of injured pride, the chafing under arrogance, and the wounds of slighted majesty, it was with difficulty that the priest restrained a premature outbreak. Now he saw the fire long kept in check burning near the surface. He held his peace, however, and Manco said merely:--

"I would have thee come hither to-night, Villac Vmu, after the third watch--and you, my generals, Quehuar, Mayta, and Mocho. And come prepared to counsel no longer caution, delay, but--action!" The effect of the last word was electrical--but as a flash of heat lightning, and as silent. It brightened their dark faces and fierce eyes for an instant, and was gone. But he knew them well, this young warrior-emperor; expected no reply, nor wished it. Presently he was alone.

The lamps were being lighted before Manco was in a mood to greet the Nusta Rava. He sent a page to advise her of his coming, requesting that she be alone. After the youth had gone, he stood at his table with eyes bent moodily upon the floor; then with quick impulse lifted the _llautu_ from his head, laid it aside, and quitted the apartment.

The evening was quiet and warm, but at that hour the several courts were almost deserted, and he walked slowly, encountering few but the frequent sentinels posted since the coming of the Spaniards. Through intermediate patios, he gained the establishment devoted to the suite of Rava and her younger sisters, the Nustas Ocllo and Alcaya, halting near a door through which came the notes of a _tinya_ and of some fair one singing. The song was a sad one, and he walked on, thinking of the days when these gloomy courts were enlivened with music and laughter from hearts untouched by care. Would those days come again to the brooding old Amarucancha?--to stricken Cuzco? The question was like the thrust of a dagger, self-administered. Was not this air of sadness, this pervading gloom, directly due to his own supineness? Was not its source in his weak, nay, criminal, submission to the Viracochas. Ah, why was he lingering, inactive, under the goading of every crying hour? Why did he rest an instant while there remained an enemy in Cuzco, or in all Tavantinsuyu?

He came to Rava's door, and passed it; returned and passed it again and again, the sweat starting under the flagellation of his conscience. How could he face the noble girl within? What would she say of the Cuzco she had left so fair: now so shorn of its glories? Would she not reproach him, and justly? And could she do otherwise than attribute to his neglect the suffering and dangers from which she had just escaped? He must explain--without another second of delay, he must explain!

He recrossed the court impetuously, and pushing open the door without ceremony, entered the room. Rava arose, startled, and hurried forward with a cry of joy, alarmed again when she saw his pallor and the drawn lines of his countenance. But there was no reproach in her tone or bearing, only affection and gladness, and he embraced her with nervous fervor.

Rava's arms were about his neck. "Oh, my brother! Oh, my brother! Do I really see thee again? Manco! Manco! How many, many times in these long months have I feared--but fears are gone. How thou hast changed, my dear! Thou 'rt troubled! Ah, me--" she stopped, regarding him with surprised concern. "Where is thy _llautu_, Manco? Why dost not wear it?"

He reddened painfully as he kissed her forehead again. "I--I have laid it aside to-night," he said quickly, seating himself beside her. "To-night, I am Manco--not the Inca, my dearest."

"But I would have seen thee wearing it. It should never be laid aside, save in privacy, brother dear; and thou wouldst still have been Manco to Rava, thou knowest well. That is not the reason."

He looked at her with troubled eyes.

"Why didst thou leave it?" she persisted, studying his face.

"I have told thee, Rava. I have put it by that I might be to thee only Manco, as of old."

The lightness of his words was forced, and Rava saw it. "Nay, it is not that," she said, gently. "Tell me why."

His eyes left hers, and she laid a hand upon his arm. "Tell me why, Manco." He rose, but she detained him; and a glance at her anxious face forced a confession. He hesitated, then said with an effort: "I will tell thee why, Rava. It is because--oh, may the souls of the departed Incas look mercifully upon me!--it is because--it is stained, my sister: debased and dishonored! It came to me not from the hands of a priest of the Sun, but placed upon my head by the foul hand of a Viracocha. O, thou great Inti, why was I suffered to live to bring this shame upon my line? I wear the _llautu_, and look thou, Rava, the shadow of a Viracocha resteth ever upon my throne. When I speak to my people a Viracocha speaketh, and my voice is drowned. My laws have ceased to be. The very dogs of the streets look dumb question of mine authority." His words failed, but he resumed, his voice strained with agony: "But worse--worse hath befallen Tavantinsuyu. They have violated the Temple of the Sun, stripped it of its splendor, and polluted its halls. They have cast down the silent forms of our fathers, ravished of their sacred insignia. The golden effigy of the Sun hath been torn from the wall, crushed into ruin by Viracocha feet, and carried away to be gambled for. The gardens have been despoiled, and not one hand's-breadth of their hallowed soil hath been left unturned by these destroyers in their ravening for gold. The Inti-pampa is a desolation. Ah, Rava, Rava, ask me not why I lay aside the _llautu_! Ask me, rather, how I dare to wear it! Ask why the Sun doth rise and set upon my profanation!"

He covered his face with his hands. Rava sat very still. She was prepared for his tale of ravage, and was less shocked by his words than by the intensity of his agitation. A strong man's anguish is always terrible to a woman or a child, and the stoicism of the Peruvian made this outburst the more harrowing. She stepped to his side and put her arms about his neck. The unspoken sympathy gave him strength, and he controlled himself and went on more calmly.

"Ah, my dearest sister, the sacredness of Cuzco is no more! Its palaces have been despoiled. The beasts of the Viracochas defile the halls of the Yupanquis. These very decorations on the walls that shelter thee are here only on sufferance." He paused long enough to steady his voice, pressing her hand to stay her from speaking. "A moment more, my dear, and I have done. I have told thee only of Cuzco. The cloud that darkeneth her sunshine hath spread to the four quarters of the empire. Quito hath fallen. Daily, as came the reports of the great pestilence, come now tales of new invasion. The great sea, vacant since the world began, disgorgeth fresh swarms with every tide, as some rotten pool its burden of vermin. The gaunt leader, Pizarro, is rearing cities, driving our children into slavery to hew his stone and build his walls. The fairest vales of Tavantinsuyu are being seized by strangers, their people banished from their homes, or lashed into servitude. Yet I am called the Inca! Oh, Rava, turn away thy face till Manco hath been worthy of his trust!"

He sank into a chair, his head bowed. Rava touched him. "Manco, do I behold my brother in despair?"

He looked up, his face reddening. "No, no! Not that, my sister, not that! I have spoken of the past and the present. The curse hath fallen whilst I have been held by chains of circumstance--the great Inti knoweth how much against my will. Now, it is ended!" He rose and regarded her with steady eyes, his voice calm, but intense. "It is ended, Rava! To-night I meet the Villac Vmu and my generals. To-morrow at dawn, whilst _chasquis_ are speeding the four roads from Cuzco, the priest will sacrifice to the Sun--not in his desecrated temple, but under his blue vault secretly in the mountains--invoking at last his dread ministers, the Thunder and Lightning. But, Rava," he exclaimed, seizing her hands, "think not that in the weakness thou hast seen to-night there was the plaint of a coward! My heart was full. My lips have been sealed in all these months of shame with links of bronze. No mortal but thee hath heard a sigh or a faltered word; but thy dear eyes have drawn from me what torture could not compel. Not even Amancay, sweetest of consorts, hath heard a whisper of the sorrow which hath made mine every night a harrowed year. But now, it is done!"

He fell into gloomy reverie, while Rava, pale and quite silent, sat pressing his hand and looking far away, or anxiously at his sombre eyes. He was oblivious of her presence, until he roused with a faint smile.

"But now, dear girl, what of thyself? I have not even told thee my joy in having thee again. Forgive me."

Rava placed her fingers on his lips. "No need, Manco, either for thee to tell me, or for me to say that I forgive. But mine is a long story. Be content to-night to know that I am safe."

"No; but let me hear it, Rava. It is of concern to me, as thou knowest. How didst come to be at Xauxa?"

"Ah, that is near the end of the story, brother."

"Then tell me from the beginning. I had thought thee in Toparca's suite until I met--Pizarro at Xaquixaguana. He told me, Rava, thou hadst fled from Caxamalca with a traitor Viracocha who had broken prison." Manco's voice was grave.

Rava's eyes flashed as they met his. "Pizarro called him so, Manco?" she demanded; then after a pause, "Ah, yes--a traitor! But what wouldst say of a traitor to these men of evil?"

Manco studied her face before he replied slowly, "Much worse even than they--or much better."

"Then much better!" she said, with quiet emphasis. "His treason lay in this, my brother--that he fiercely resented Pizarro's perfidy to our kinsman, Atahualpa, whom he befriended in his darkest hours. And in this--that he saved me from worse than death when I was at the mercy of those vultures; that he fought for me, starved for me, kept hope alive when my heart was broken, and shielded me from a thousand perils, until he led me to safety. And all this, Manco, for the sake of a vow to Atahualpa, whom he promised to deliver me from mine enemies. A traitor! Oh, my brother, if thy nobles have virtues like his treason, thou 'rt a fortunate monarch!"

While she was speaking, and afterward, Manco searched her deep eyes until, conscious of his scrutiny, they fell. Her hand was trembling, and his face darkened with displeasure. "Rava," he demanded, "where is this Viracocha?"

She looked up, and the sorrow and desolation which had swept quickly over her gentle face brought generous remorse for his instant of sternness. Her lips trembled piteously. "Oh, Manco, Manco," she faltered, "he fell for me at last. He is no more!"

With head bowed and form shaken by grief, her hands sought his neck; and whatever he would have said a moment before in reproof of her feeling for one of the hated race, it was forgotten in pity as he drew her into his arms. With affectionate sympathy he endeavored to moderate her anguish, but words were vain, and he could only hold her tight-clasped until its force was spent. Then he half carried her, benumbed and yielding, to her couch and called her maids, lingering helpless beside her while they ministered.

Rava had grown more tranquil, and he was about to depart. She lay quiet, her eyes closed, their lashes yet moist, and he bent over to kiss the pallid cheek. As he did so she sighed deeply, and a small object slipped from her bosom and lay sparkling at the end of its slender chain. Its silvery gleam caught his eye. He started, looked more closely, and recoiled as if he had seen a serpent in the folds of her robe. He caught breath sharply, and an ashy paleness spread over his bronzed face. By a blessing of Heaven the girl did not open her eyes upon the mingled abhorrence, unbelief, and anger, with which he beheld the tiny image of the crucified Saviour--the emblem of all on the broad earth that he hated most savagely. He gazed for a fascinated instant, stood erect, glanced at the sad face once more, and left the room with features as rigid as if cast in the metal whose color they wore. The startled maids looked after him as he went, but none saw him stagger as he crossed the court with his hands pressed to his forehead. The Moon, goddess consort of the Sun, was rising over the dark roofs of the palace. He wavered out from the shadow into her rays and cowered beneath them, shuddering as if he felt her silent denunciation of his sister's apostasy. Gaining his apartments, he passed his attendants without a word, leaving them awed by a face they had hardly recognized.

When his generals met him, near midnight, his eyes were fevered, his voice hoarse and dry, and his words, fraught with war, were uttered with an abrupt tensity that fired their warlike hearts. The council was long. At its close the _chasquis_ who were to bear his messages to the distant provinces, calling them to arms, were summoned to have the words from his own lips. They left it with nerves strung by their portentous import and the fierce, suppressed energy with which they were given.

Before the sun rose above Cuzco the fiat had gone forth that would convulse the empire.

Within the month every province, town, and hamlet within the realm was in secret preparation. Armorers doubled their industry. The great system of posts sprang to its highest activity, the tireless _chasquis_ speeding day and night over every road and mountain trail, hurrying commands from the capital, bearing back reports of governors and _curacas_, in ceaseless radiation and convergence. Magazines and armories were replenished of their stores, and trains of carriers toiled over every highway, concentrating provisions and material of war upon the strongholds in the mountains surrounding Cuzco. All the machinery of the most elaborately perfect organization the world has ever seen was in motion, but as silently as clouds gather before a tempest. The couriers stole in and out of the city under cover of darkness. Few of them went to the Amarucancha, but were received and despatched by the Villac Vmu at his own palace, their tidings and _quipus_ carried by him to the Inca. The impending cataclysm gave no faintest warning, and the Spaniards idled, caroused, and brawled, unconscious of its approach.