Chapter XII

Toparca was late in answering Yma’s summons. The Sun Virgin awaited his arrival with an impatience all but unbearable. It was unlike him to dally with a request from her.

“Why, why did you not come at once?” she cried.

“The council was in session....”

The girl seized his arm.

“They have--decided--on his--fate?”

Toparca nodded, and smiled.

“He is to die! You _smile_!”

“Could I smile at your anguish, dear Yma?”

In her joy she kissed him.

“Go quickly,” the girl commanded. “Find the Dowager and tell her that I am bringing the stranger to see her. If she approves we will appeal to the Inca to-night.”

She had decided on her course of action and would carry out her plan without delay.

Toparca hastened to do her bidding and she again stood before Molina. The cavalier had doffed his coat and was preparing to sleep. They stood, gazing at each other.

“Dear Yma,” he began slowly, “why--why this folly? There can be no _love_ between us. You are too young and too beautiful and have honored me too highly to permit me to betray you.”

Yma looked at him long and tenderly.

“I am too simple, Señor, to understand your strange reasons and behavior. I only know that you will not have my love. I cannot force yours. I am not come to plead a vain cause or disturb you. I am come to tell you that your people have landed at Tumbez....”

“What?” Molina cried, his voice jubilant. “Say that again, dear girl!”

“Your captain, Francisco Pizarro, has come....”

In his joy the cavalier swept Yma into his arms and kissed her lips. She made no response. This embrace, this caress meant nothing to her, to him. He shouted for joy because it meant the return to his people, the return to Teresa. His kiss was given to her lips, but it stung--she felt in its ardor, the yearning for another. She could not possess him, and yet.... Here in this wilderness....

“You wish to join them at once, my dear god-man?” she sorrowfully asked.

“Yes, dear, at once. I will start to-night with the Inca’s permission.”

“They have discussed again the question of your death, Señor....”

“Of my death!”

“Yes. The Inca knows that you came as a spy for the strangers. He knows that you have studied and made sketches of his defenses....”

“He knows--by your reports?” his voice was bitter.

The girl shrank back.

“You ask that cruel question, my beloved?”

He came forward impulsively and caught her hands.

“Forgive me! I know you incapable of such treachery. And I know that you will help me go to my people....”

“Yes, my life, though it is as death to me....”

Molina started. Teresa had said that. He kissed her, as if by his now cold lips he could assuage her longings. But she did not respond. She drew away.

She paused and devoured him with her eyes.

“And such dreams I’ve had of life with you!”

He was eager again, excited, his blood and nostalgia calling for his own kind.

“You’ll take me to the Inca, to-night?” he urged.

“I’ve sent a messenger to prepare the way. We first must see the Dowager. Atahualpa loves his proud mother and she is very wise.”

The cavalier took the slender hand in his.

“You knew that I would wish to go at once?”

“I knew. The ache in my heart told me.”

He bent and kissed the dark tresses of her hair and felt her body tremble.

The Dowager Queen awaited the arrival of Molina with ill-concealed impatience. Yma humbly apologized for the delay.

“It was my fault, most gracious queen mother,” she murmured. “It was needed that I tell the Señor of the arrival of his people and learn his wishes....”

“And what is your desire?” the Dowager inquired.

Molina studied the regal figure for a moment, weighing the forces of her character and trying to fathom her real attitude toward him. She was still a woman in the full glory of life. The years seemed to have made little impression on her smooth regular features. Not yet fifty, she looked barely thirty. An unusually tall figure for the women of her country, she stood confronting him, every inch a queen.

“I’ve asked you a grave question,” she said with a touch of impatience.

“And I was just wondering, Your Highness, how one so young and beautiful could be the mother of the Inca?”

Pacha laughed softly, her face flushed, and she made no effort to conceal her pleasure. Yma sighed her admiration at the subtlety of her lover.

“I could almost believe after that speech,” she replied, “that you _are_ an ambassador--not a spy. Surely the god-men of your Spain have studied the hearts of women....”

“I spoke but sober truth, Your Highness....”

The Spaniard bowed low.

“I asked of you your wish as to your people. Your answer?”

“That I may go at once as the ambassador of good will from the court of your great son, the Lord Inca, Atahualpa.”

“And you would leave to languish here our most beautiful daughter of the Sun whom we have given to you?”

Molina saw at once the pitfall her wit had set. The Court was pleased to believe that he had taken Yma as his wife. Her pride had given wide acceptance to the story. He saw in a flash that if he were eager to abandon so beautiful a girl at the first call of a trumpet from the Spaniards, his professions of friendship for her people would be vain. He realized that he must dissemble. He dreaded the effect on Yma of what he must say but there was no help for it.

His answer was given without apparent hesitation. He threw on Yma a look of tenderness and said:

“I will not leave the beautiful consort whose ministry to me has been as the touch of an angel....”

“You would take her with you?”

“Surely, Your Highness.”

The face of the girl shone with surprised joy. Tears welled in her eyes and her body trembled. She tried to speak and a sob caught her voice.

The Spaniard saw his advantage and pressed it.

“I beg of you to believe me, when I assure you of the high honor, piety, and faith of the Christians who have come to your shores. They would learn the secrets of your wealth and happiness and bring to you their sons and daughters to live in peace and harmony with yours. Receive them as friends and they come to teach you the secrets of their power and make your great Kingdom secure against every foe. They will teach you the new science of war, the use of the sword and musket and cannon. They will bring to you the domestic animals of the Old World to enrich your fields and people: horses to draw your heavy loads and carry your noblemen on swift feet to the ends of the empire; cows and goats, pigs and chickens to enrich your food. They will teach you the use of steel and iron; bringing implements with which to till the soil: plows and hoes and spades. They will teach you the secrets and glories of their religion which now overspreads the world. And you will give to them your wonderful fruits and vegetables and flowers. You will teach them the secrets of your great highways, your system of waterworks and hanging gardens that exceed in beauty and richness the gardens of Babylon that were once one of the seven wonders of the world. Their sovereign, Charles V, is now the greatest monarch known since the rulers of the ancient world. He will add his wisdom and power to the glory of your illustrious son. Their united kingdoms will open a new era for the race of man. I bespeak for our people your friendship and hospitality.”

“Your words are beautiful,” was the gracious answer. “They charm and lure our hearts.”

“Most gracious Mother Queen,” Yma assured, “through many hours he has told me of these things and I know they are true. Hear him, and grant his prayer.”

“I believe you, Spaniard,” Pacha said with deep conviction, “and I will ask our Lord of the Sun to send you at once to your people as our messenger of peace and good will.”

The tall, graceful figure passed into the audience chamber of the Inca and left the cavalier alone with Yma.

He felt the storm coming and was powerless to break its force. The girl drew close, laid her head on his breast, slipped her arms about his neck and wept.

He soothed her with a gentle touch on her soft shoulders.

“Do not weep, sweet child. You shall go with me. I wish it.”

“And I will bring you good fortune, my god-man. All our people will learn to love you as I love you. And if your Teresa comes at last, I will welcome her into our home. She shall be first if it is the wish of my Lord, and I will be second. No evil thought shall darken my heart. I will bear you beautiful sons and daughters and you will teach them the glories of Spain and I will teach them the glories of the Kingdom of the Four Corners of the World. And there will be none like them in all the earth!”

The Spaniard had no heart to dispel the love dream. He soothed her into a long silence broken at last by the entrance of Pacha who summoned them into the presence of the Inca.

The Dowager gave no answering assurance as Molina threw her a look of inquiry. In painful silence he approached the gold throne on which Atahualpa sat attended by the chief priest, his associates of the temple, and the veteran general Quizquiz.

The Inca spoke with composure.

“I have just learned with interest the beautiful words which you have spoken to my mother of a peaceful union of the life and religion of my empire and the Kingdom of Spain. Unfortunately I have no means of knowing how far your ideas agree with those of the commander who leads the invaders of our soil.

“I can easily see the advantages of such a union for both, if made in the spirit of mutual courtesy, kindness and good will. The religious problem with us could be easily solved. We are generous in our tolerance of all faiths. The Gods of every conquered province we have carefully and reverently set up in the great temples of the Sun for the past four hundred years. Every man in my kingdom may worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience. The income set aside for worship from the work of our people is ample to meet all needs.

“I would gladly learn the secrets of your science of war and with your help extend our kingdom to the limits of the earth, North, South, East and West.

“But I must first know the disposition of your own priests of religion and your commander who leads the expedition. I have heard ugly rumors of his doings in the far north where first he landed. That he was attacked by savages on the Island of Puna is not surprising. They are in constant rebellion against my authority and I rejoice that he has punished them.

“His use of my people on the coast and the purport of his strange proclamations I have yet to understand.

“I must learn from the lips of your leader the exact meaning of his coming. I cannot accept at its face value your view. I happen to know that you were sent to my court as a spy--”

“I protest, my Lord of the Sun,” Molina interrupted, “and assure you my purpose has been most friendly.”

“Naturally you must say as much,” was the smiling answer. “Yet you have counted our armies, studied and sketched our fortresses and done all that a spy could be expected to do. I would be justified under the laws of war in ordering your execution. A spy from my country to yours would expect no other fate.”

He paused in brooding silence as if waiting for the Spaniard’s denial. Molina’s sense of honor forbade the lie he might have spoken, and the Inca delivered his final decision with dignity and quiet force.

“I must therefore order your imprisonment in the fortress on the crest of the mountains behind Caxamalca until I am fully informed of the purposes of your people.”

Molina bowed.

“Yma with her maids will attend you as before and see that your wants are well supplied.”

With a cry of joy Yma sprang to his side.

“The fortress I will build into a palace for my Lord. From its ramparts you can see the most entrancing views for miles. I will make you very happy there!”

“We will make the best of it,” was the quiet answer. “So long as you are my jailor at least we will call it a palace, not a jail.”

The cavalier bent for a moment over the hand of the Queen Mother and as he kissed it heard her low voice murmur:

“Be of good cheer. You have in me a friend. I trust that soon you may be permitted to join your people.”

But Molina heard the heavy stone door of the fortress close behind him with a sense of grim uneasiness.