“He that studieth revenge, keepeth his own wounds green.”—BACON.
Tolta had not been idle since the shipwreck. The restraint which the
presence of the Spaniards had hitherto imposed upon him, was now removed.
He was rarely seen with them, and indeed often disappeared for weeks at a
time.
Kiana had never liked him. Tolta felt it at heart and resented it. At the
bottom of this feeling was no doubt the attachment both had for Beatriz.
We have seen the nature of Kiana’s; generous and profound, more from deep
respect than from positive love, because in reality, while her character
compelled, it at the same time repelled his passion. He had striven to
win her, for he could not help it. In one sense, he was not disappointed
at the result, because his reason told him it could not be otherwise.
Having therefore obeyed both his own and her will, he now, in continuing
his kindness, left her as free to act as himself.
It was different with Tolta. The Aztec saw even deeper into the
impassable gulf between their two natures, but he was drawn to her with
the tenacity of the bloodhound to his scent. In her presence he was
gentle and serviceable. The passions which excited him when apart from
her, became with her like those of a little child. He would gaze upon
her for hours with eyes intense with his fiery emotions, but the moment
she spoke to him the fire left them, and the good in him illumined his
countenance.
Beatriz read his character, and while from sympathy in his misfortunes
she exerted herself to soothe, she never could so overcome her repugnance
as to trust in him as she did in Kiana. With the latter she felt safe;
with Tolta never. The very fierceness which he was ever ready to display
in her defence, might at any moment be turned upon her. It was well
that her instincts prompted her to distrust him as much as she did, for
often the only barrier between them was her own moral superiority. Tolta
felt this to be indeed a far stronger obstacle than would have been the
jealous precautions of lock or duenna. The possibility of Beatriz loving
him as he did her never deluded him. He knew that was hopeless. Still his
passion rather grew than abated, especially in the freedom of his new
life, which brought back the pride and ambition of his race. So long,
however, as he saw that Beatriz did not love another, he was reconciled.
She had so wisely avoided the subject whenever he sought to suggest
his feelings, that he had all but persuaded himself that she was of a
different mould from other women. She might be worshipped, but not sought
in love.
He hated Juan and the seamen with all the intensity of an Aztec’s
revenge, for their share in the conquest of his country. Olmedo he had
ever respected for his virtues, and would have exempted from the fate
he cherished at heart for the others. In his excursions about Hawaii,
he had come in contact with some of Pohaku’s warriors. Gradually their
intercourse had ripened into an intimacy with their chief, with whom he
now conspired to overthrow Kiana and get possession of the Spaniards.
So adroitly had he concealed his designs, that he had retained the
friendship and confidence of all except a few individuals about him, for
his manner was the same it had ever been. Their own consciousness of the
opportunities he now had, and the provocation they had often given him,
were more the causes of their secret distrust than anything they saw. His
frequent absences were a relief rather than a cause of suspicion, for he
was then forgotten.
He had no difficulty in obtaining a willing auditory to his plans in
Pohaku, and the chiefs leagued with him. His inmost desire was to
sacrifice the Spaniards to the war-god of Mexico, under any name his
allies might choose from their mythology, and to gloat over their dying
agonies, while taunting them with their fate as due their crimes against
his countrymen. Besides this, seeing the brutal nature of Pohaku and the
easy confidence of Kiana, he conceived the design of eventually disposing
of both, by turning their arms against each other, while he gradually
united all Hawaii under his own sway and forced Beatriz to become his
wife. As hopeless as seemed such a plot, it was within the range of
probability could the wily Aztec dispose of the chief actors. To this end
he now bent all the resources of his cunning.
Pohaku listened eagerly to his seductive eloquence as he promised him
the wealth of Kiana’s people, if he would unite his warriors under his
direction. He excited his fears also, as he narrated the career of the
white man in Mexico, insinuating that they were spies, to be followed by
numbers sufficient for the conquest of Hawaii, as soon as their report
should reach their countrymen in the ports whence they came.
At the suggestion of Tolta, some days before the declaration of Kiana
to Beatriz, Pohaku had sent his heralds to summon the friendly chiefs
to a grand council, at which the plot was to be finally discussed. They
assembled at one of his principal fortresses on the southwestern bank of
the crater of Kilauea, and there in silence and secrecy prepared their
plans. Tolta knew too well the valor of the Spaniards, not to impress
upon the chiefs the importance of securing them before marching in
force upon Kiana. So artfully did he mingle his own revenge with their
superstition, that they with one accord decided to seize upon them by a
secret expedition entrusted to Tolta, who agreed to put them into their
hands for a solemn sacrifice to Pele, on condition only that the white
woman was to be his own prize. Accordingly, some of the most active and
trusty warriors were placed at his command. By slow marches and secret
paths he led them without discovery to the borders of the valley where
the Spaniards dwelt, dividing them into different ambushes, with orders
to seize each one and bear him off at once to Pohaku’s fortress, without
taking his life, while he was to decoy the white men to them, and on each
occasion make his own escape as if equally endangered. So successful was
he, that the three seamen were abducted as arranged, without any alarm
being given. Tolta then, with a select party lay in wait in the vicinity
of Juan’s dwelling, watching his opportunity to seize the main prize.
Alvirez, he soon ascertained, was for the present out of his reach, being
in a distant part of the valley.
While watching for Olmedo and Beatriz, he had been witness to the scene
between Kiana and the latter. Without overhearing their discourse, he saw
in their parting, as simple as it was, food for his jealousy, for he well
knew that her hand and tear had never been given him. His tiger blood
was stirred, and he ground his teeth in rage. “What,” said he, “does she
frown upon the Aztec noble, that she may smile upon this hind of Hawaii.
Once in my power, and she shall be taught to love me or none.”
He watched her after movements more in amazement than anger, for they
were to him contradictory and unintelligible. Besides, until she was
sufficiently far from her people, he dared not give the signal to seize
her for fear of a general alarm; but not for one minute did he let her
get out of his sight, following her movements under cover of the thick
undergrowth of the forest, with the silence and subtlety of a serpent.
While thus engaged, a scene occurred which so astonished and fascinated
him, that until he had seen it out, he seemed to have forgotten the
object of his expedition.