Yma had held her place beside her royal master until she saw him fall
into the hands of his captors. With a cry of despair she slipped
through the surging mass of nobles yet pressing about the body of their
fallen ruler, fled for the fortress, and reached the entrance to the
building on the terrace below without accident.
Faithfully obeying her commands, Toparca had guarded the fortress with
a new relay of men and stood at the lower entrance impatiently awaiting
her return.
He could not believe his ears.
“The Inca taken! Dear Yma, it is impossible. They dare not lay their
hands on God himself.”
“It is done. I saw them bind him with cords and lead him away a
prisoner. Thousands have been slain. There is no one to command and all
left alive are fleeing....”
“But the army?”
“The captains, in terror, without a leader, have dispersed the army.
The men are flying secretly to their homes. I passed the camp and saw
them running, every man for himself.”
“The woman will attack the fortress?”
“Yes! Quick, we have work to do. They shall not take my man. I know
they are coming.”
Through a dense mass of evergreen bushes the girl pushed her way to the
door that opened the way up the long stairway into the fortress. It was
the work of an hour to carry out her plans of defeating Teresa.
When she reported the slaughter of five thousand unarmed people and the
capture of the Inca, Molina refused to believe it.
He lifted his manacled arm in a gesture of impatience.
“Dear Virgin of the Sun, you are overwrought. You are hysterical.
Such things cannot be done by the followers of Jesus Christ. You are
raving....”
“I saw it all!” she shivered “Your people are devils, not gods.
They lured our Lord of the Sun into an ambush and slew his unarmed
attendants without mercy. I felt this coming in the sorrow of your
voice when first I told you of the strangers’ invitation to the Inca. I
warned him in vain.”
“Is it possible!” he cried in anguish.
“They will come for you with their horses and their flaming tubes--but
they shall not take you!”
Her face flushed and the young cavalier watched her with a deep pity
shadowing his soul. Two years among a gentle, friendly, happy people
had done something to his character. He had no desire to share the
ghastly victory with his people. A feeling of nausea overwhelmed him.
“I have no wish to see my people to-night, dear Yma,” he muttered sadly.
“Then you will not be more unhappy if I take you to the lower rooms
before they come to smash in the doors of the fortress?”
“I am in chains, I cannot stop you if I would.”
The girl stooped and kissed the manacles. “They hold you for me yet a
little while.”
The Spaniard touched gently the dark tresses of her hair.
“I’m learning many things, in these silent days, dear Yma. The world I
live in has grown larger and more wonderful and beautiful since I’ve
known you.”
She watched him wistfully for a moment, her deep emotion raging, but
she repressed it, smiled and hurried to her task.
Toparca called the guard, and found the eye holes in a massive stone
that paved the lower passage. These holes were safely hidden by soft
earth from which sprigs of grass were carefully removed in a compact
piece of turf and laid aside to be replaced.
Grappling hooks of heavy bronze were fixed in those holes and the
combined strength of five men lifted the huge trap door that opened the
way to the lower fortress hundreds of feet below.
With all speed Molina’s furnishings and clothes and all the effects of
his servant and Yma’s maids were removed to the lower level. Then the
cavalier followed Yma down the long dark stairway, hundreds of feet
into the depths below.
The guards replaced the stone, reset the grass, and left the fortress
unguarded. They obeyed Yma’s command without question.
When Teresa arrived two hours later with a force of twenty men and one
of Candia’s cannon no sound came from the ramparts in answer to her
call.
Gaspara warned her to move with care as Pizarro had commanded. He had
refused to allow her to engage in the attack on the Inca. She had
agreed on condition that he give her permission to take the fortress
the moment the monarch was in his hands. Now she waited impatiently.
A complete survey of the walls from every angle gave no sign of
defense. A sentinel had always walked the ramparts day and night.
Gaspara ordered the men to try the heavy stone door and it yielded at
once to their shoulders, swinging heavily on its massive pivot.
Teresa turned to her native servant.
“You are sure there are only three guards?”
“I’ve seen but three since I entered the fortress. I’ve hidden from
the Sun Virgin, but got all her orders from a maid. No more have been
added. The prisoner is on the first floor.”
“Steady!” she called to the men. “It may be a ruse. I will lose no
Spanish soldiers in this crisis. I’ll enter alone first.”
With torch uplifted high she boldly entered the hall and found it
empty. Calling Gaspara they surveyed each room. The place was deserted.
The kitchen gave signs of use during the day, and live coals still
smoldered in the cooling ashes, but there were no occupants to be found.
A second careful search uncovered the small stairway which led out
through the clump of evergreens at the foot of the cliff. Teresa
examined every crook and turn of the stairs, emerged below, parted the
bushes at the entrance, and stood baffled.
“They’ve just slipped through our fingers by this secret entrance of
the fortress....”
“It’s plain,” Gaspara agreed.
“There’s nothing to do but begin our search all over again--” a
strangled sob caught her voice--“but when I find her I’ll run her
through....”