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.