Narva, came swiftly forward to meet them. Her bearing, the proud majesty
of her beauty, caused a murmur of admiration throughout the ranks of
the cavemen that was punctuated by a hearty shout from Miranda, who
watched the troubles of Raoul with unrestrained delight. It was not
often, indeed, that the rank and file of the Land of the Condor came
face to face with their queen. When they did so, the meeting aroused a
profound feeling of pride and loyalty. Raoul, seeing the effect Sajipona
had upon his men, and already disconcerted by the reception accorded the
two priests, had no mind for further encounters that might cost him his
entire following. In the outside world, faced by a similar danger, he
would have retreated. But here, in the midst of a subterranean labyrinth
of unknown extent, retreat was impossible. The alternative was a bold
rallying of his forces, a sudden rush for the prize he had ventured so
far to win. Turning upon his men, he denounced them savagely for their
apparent change of purpose, their cowardice.
"You will remain slaves!" he cried tauntingly. "We have your tyrants in
our power. All you need do for your freedom is to follow me and take
what belongs to you."
There were enough who understood his words to translate them to those
ignorant of Spanish, and the immediate effect produced on these people,
vacillating by nature, ever ready to yield to the strongest personality
that appealed to them, was not far from that intended. Spears, knives,
blowguns were brandished, a score or more men leaped forward uttering
cries of triumph--and again the attack planned by Raoul seemed fairly
under way and with a reasonable prospect of success. It was checked--but
only for an instant--by a clamorous protest from Miranda. The latter,
blazing with indignation, bounded to the front, gesticulating and
menacing all who were within his reach.
"He is one canaille, this fellow!" he shouted. "He fight with the
womens. He take from you all you have. Do not be estupid. He lie! He
lie!"
This outburst astonished more than it convinced those to whom it was
addressed. As Miranda spoke in a mixture of English and Spanish,
scarcely any one understood what he said. In another moment he would
have been swept derisively aside, had not Sajipona quietly interposed.
Pointing at Raoul, she spoke a few words to the cavemen in their native
tongue. Then she turned to the man whose armed presence at the doors of
her palace, threatened her authority, if not her life.
"So! This is the man who, a short time ago, I saved from death at the
hands of an angry mob!" she said scornfully. "You did not come to my
house then, Don Raoul, as you come now. And yet--if I order these men,
whom you think are your followers, to treat you as that other mob would
have treated you, they would obey me. Be sure of that! And now, tell me:
what have you done with Anitoo?"
Raoul hesitated a moment, then answered sullenly:
"He attacked me. I killed him in self-defense."
The reply was only half understood by the cavemen; but the attitude of
Raoul, contrasted with the majestic bearing and composure of Sajipona,
had already aroused their indignation.
"It may have been, as you say, in self-defense--I have only your word
for it. But, for the treachery, the rebellion you have brought here,"
the queen went on, "by all the laws of our kingdom you should die. But I
have something I wish you to do. If you do it, your life will be spared
and you will be taken in safety from this cave never to enter it again."
Sajipona checked the tumult that she saw rising among the cavemen, and
spoke a few words to them.
"I have told them," she explained, turning to Raoul, "that I knew of
your coming--as I did. I have told them I have something for you to do
before you are expelled from our kingdom. And I have pledged my word for
your safety--although none of the men you have led here against me seem
to care what happens to you. And now you will come with me."
There was a murmur of approval. Raoul looked fearfully at his followers.
Their submission to the commands of the woman they were accustomed
to obey was sufficiently evident to destroy his last hope for even a
divided authority. Neither--for he was ignorant of their language--could
he tell just what had passed between them and Sajipona. He was glad to
accept, however, the queen's promise of safety; and this, coupled with a
desire to get to the bottom of the mystery that had tantalized him since
he first met this strange and fascinating being, reconciled him to the
enforced abandonment of his schemes for the conquest of a subterranean
stronghold into which he had ventured too far to retreat. He therefore
bowed his head to Sajipona's commands and prepared to do as she
directed. His submission was greeted with ironical approval by Miranda,
who how waddled forward impatiently, dragging Leighton with him, to
enter the palace. But in this he was prevented by Sajipona.
"Senor, Doctor," she said, pleasing his vanity by her knowledge of his
professional title, "you must wait. There is much to be done. You are a
fine general. You have helped save this palace, my kingdom and all of
us from ruin. I am very grateful. Soon you will have everything that
you want. And you and your friends will return to your own country in
safety."
This unexpected check, although expressed in terms that were highly
pleasing to Miranda's vanity, was received with a grumbling protest.
"But, Senorita," he expostulated; "this young lady is here. I look for
her everywhere in this cave. I am her family. She must come back to us."
"Not yet," was the calm reply. "Very soon, yes. But now she will stay
with me."
There was a finality about this way of putting things that dashed
even Miranda's impetuosity. Leighton, silently watching the brief
altercation, and perceiving that Una, who still remained where Sajipona
had left her, was perfectly calm and in no need of their assistance,
exerted himself to restrain her headstrong champion. This was no easy
matter, and the struggle between the two was watched with a covert smile
by Sajipona. With the help of Herran and Andrew, however, Miranda's
opposition was finally overcome. After which, without waiting to hear
the tirade that, she could see, the doctor was ready to launch, the
queen, followed by Raoul, turned to the palace. Regaining the entrance,
she faced them once more and waved a farewell to the silent throng in
the garden. Then, giving her hand to Una, she passed within, the great
doors clanging behind her.
XX
LEGEND AND REALITY
As soon as she reëntered the palace, Sajipona dismissed her courtiers,
the cavemen who acted as guards, and even the few female attendants she
was accustomed to have near her. Of her own people, Narva alone
remained.
Facing Raoul and Una in the deserted hall, flooded with light from the
magic sun that a short while since had traced in moving characters
of fire the approach of her enemies, Sajipona told of her purpose in
bringing them there. She spoke as if she had long foreseen and even
planned this interview, and amazed them by her intimate knowledge of
various matters that seemed quite beyond the reach of her sources of
information. It was as if she had been thoroughly familiar for some
years past with Raoul's schemes, and had even shared in the hopes and
fears that brought Una to Colombia.
"I knew of your coming; I planned for it," she said to Raoul. "For
months I have known that you were using every art your cunning could
suggest--aided by the treachery of one of my own people--to find your
way here. Until now you have been unable to do anything. I was always
able to keep you out of here--and I could still have kept you out, had
it not served my purpose better to let you come. You are here now--you
are looking for what you have always looked. You guessed, long since,
of the existence of a great treasure house, built here centuries ago
by the rulers of our mountain kingdom who disappeared before the white
invaders of this country. Idle stories and legends of those far off
times, repeated to you by the peons whom you questioned, vague hints
and romances picked up from ancient books, led you to this cave and to
the belief that I was, in some way, mixed up with its secret. I will
not say that you were right or wrong in all of this. Here you look for
a mountain of treasure; as yet you have found none. But you have seen
marvels enough since you entered this unknown region to make you eager
to solve a mystery that every moment has grown deeper. I will help
you--but it must be in my own way, and just so far as it suits my own
plans.
"Once, we who live here now shut out from all the rest of the world,
were free. We overran all the plains and mountains of Bogota, our rule
extended to the warmer countries on every side of us. We practiced
arts, cultivated sciences, were familiar with secrets of nature that
our conquerors were too rude, too ignorant to understand. But these
conquerors excelled us in warfare; and so we were driven either into
slavery or hiding. It is in memory of that former age of freedom and
empire that my people have called this the Land of the Condor--that,
and a strange old legend that you may have heard of. Here we are hidden
far, as you know, from the light of the upper earth. A miracle of nature
carved this land out of the rock; the science and art of a race older
than yours have furnished it and made it what you see. It is guarded,
as you know to your cost, by many a labyrinth, strongholds that have
baffled you every time you have tried to pierce them. Its people live by
means and methods that are forgotten--if they were ever known--to the
outer world. Here we have been free to follow the customs and beliefs of
our fathers. Here we could still continue a peaceful mode of life you
know nothing of. But something has happened that has changed all this.
Because of it I have at last permitted, even aided your coming to us.
I know all you have sacrificed for this treasure you hope to win from
the depths of the earth--treasure that belongs to us. I will not say
that your search will be rewarded. Had you succeeded in your plan years
ago you would have paid dearly for it. The knowledge of this hidden
land would have been forever lost to you. Good fortune--or ill--has
brought you here at last. Your fate lies now in the hands of the man
you once tried to injure. But there is one thing you must do before his
decision can be given. You must free him from a tyranny that, with all
our knowledge of mankind's perils and weaknesses, we are powerless to
overcome."
The demand, vague though it was, did not surprise Raoul. Upon learning
of David's disappearance on the road from Honda to Bogota, he guessed
that the missing man had found his way, by some inexplicable method, to
this subterranean world, thus repeating his almost fatal adventure of
three years ago. This surmise, based on the past, and on indications
of similar abnormal mental symptoms that he believed David had again
experienced, was corroborated by the cavemen who accompanied him to the
palace. From these cavemen he learned that David had been followed by
Sajipona's emissaries ever since his arrival in Honda. These people
intended neither his capture, nor to interfere with whatever plans he
might have. Instead, they had formed a sort of secret guard, instructed
to watch him and report, so soon as they could ascertain it, his purpose
in revisiting Bogota. When he was separated from Herran by the regiment
of volunteers on the Honda road, he was found in a state of mental
bewilderment, not conscious, apparently, that he had lost his traveling
companions, but anxious to find his way to some place, which he vaguely
described. While in this condition he seemed to recognize the cavemen
with whom he was talking. Aided by their hints and suggestions, his
recollection of the cave, and especially of Sajipona, grew in vividness.
He appeared to remember nothing of Herran, nor of his immediate object
in visiting Bogota. But he spoke with increasing clearness of the Land
of the Condor. He recalled what had befallen him there three years ago
as if it had happened quite recently, and declared he was looking for
Sajipona, of whom he spoke with the greatest admiration and gratitude.
As he was uncertain of his way, he asked the cavemen to guide him.
This, of course, they were ready to do, although they were completely
mystified by the sudden oblivion into which, apparently, all his
present friends and purposes had fallen in his mind. Sajipona alone he
remembered. Three years had passed since he last saw her--but the events
crowded into those three years seemed to have left not the slightest
trace on his memory. He described his first visit to the cave; but the
time between that period and this remained a blank in his mind.
All this Raoul had gathered from the cavemen who, reverting to the
Indian belief in such matters, declared that David was bewitched. In a
sense, Raoul knew this to be true. He knew also that the spells wrought
by modern witchcraft were easily broken by any scientist holding the
clew to them. That the cavemen, who possessed secrets in physics unknown
to the outer world, should be ignorant of the simplest phenomena of
hypnotism was not extraordinary. Even Sajipona shared, to a certain
extent, the superstitions of those around her regarding David. She
expected Raoul to break the "enchantment" under which David suffered.
Una, familiar with Leighton's experiments and speculations in this
field, was quite as confident as the queen that the case was within
Raoul's power. Raoul alone realized the possible consequences following
David's return to normal consciousness.
"Even if I could do as you say," he asked, "why would you have David
changed?"
"As he is now, he is not himself."
"No, he is not himself," repeated Una eagerly.
Sajipona's cheek paled; her lips tightened as if to prevent an angry
rejoinder.
"Are you not content with him as he is?" persisted Raoul.
"What is that to you?" she asked coldly. Then, no longer disguising her
emotion, she went on:
"You don't understand what is between us. He comes from a world that
I have never seen. In the legends of our kings there is one telling
of a stranger who suddenly appears from a land of clouds--a land no
man knows--who brings with him the power to make my people, as they
once were, rulers of their own land. It is an old tale. Believe it or
not--who can be sure of these things? Certainly, the stranger has never
come--unless it is David."
"There have been many strangers since that time," said Raoul cynically.
"Your people have disappeared before the Spaniard. They live unknown,
forgotten, in a cave in the mountains. Why do you think David is the
stranger in the legend?"
She drew herself up scornfully. Her dark beauty, flashing eye, quivering
nostril, needed not the emerald diadem of the ancient Chibchas
encircling her brow to proclaim her royal lineage.
"We are not so poor, so abandoned, as you seem to think," she said.
"This is all that is left of a mighty kingdom, it is true--a cave
unknown to the rest of the world. But here we are, at least, free. We
live the life of our fathers. Our old men have taught us wisdom that
is unknown to you. We have wealth--not only the wealth that you are
seeking--but secrets of earth and air you have never dreamed of."
"This may be--I believe it is--all true. But--what is David to do here?"
murmured Una.
"If he is the Stranger of the old legend, the Gilded Man we have
awaited, this Land of the Condor is his."
"You are its queen."
"He will be its king."
"You have told him?" asked Raoul.
"Years ago. We were happy. I loved him. It was not as the women of your
world love. Life was less than his least wish. And he loved me. Plans
for the great rejoicing--the Feast of the Gilded Man--were made. Not
since the Spaniards came--perhaps never before--has there been such
preparation. Then, a change came over him. He talked of an outside
world he had seen in his dreams. He was bewitched then, as he is now.
He had forgotten you, his false friend, and all the life he had lived
before. To cure him, I sent him out with some of our people. He scarcely
understood, but he accepted anything I did as if it came from his own
will. Then he disappeared. Without a word he left me. There came long
years of uncertainty. The few months he passed with me here seemed like
some bright dream that vanishes. I began to think it was a dream--when
suddenly I heard of him again. Some of my people found him wandering
aimlessly in the forest near the Bogota road. He was looking for me, he
said--he had forgotten the rest of the world."
There was an artless simplicity in Sajipona's confession of her love
and disappointment that was more than eloquence. Narva stood apart, her
face shrouded in her mantle, motionless, as if the remembrance of these
bygone matters carried with it something of a religious experience. Upon
Una the effect was startlingly different. She listened in amazement,
indignation, at this revelation of a passion in which her lover had
shared--of which she had known nothing--and that seemed to place
him utterly apart from her. If Sajipona's tale was true--the manner
of its telling, her own engaging personality, carried irresistible
conviction--David's love for Una had been shadowed all along by an
earlier, deeper sentiment that gave it the color of something that was
not altogether real. Why had he never told her of this Indian romance?
Hypnotism indeed! What man could help kneeling in passionate adoration
before this queenly woman, whose beauty was of that glorious warmth
and fragrance belonging to the purple and scarlet flowers of one's
dreams, whose love combined the unreasoning devotion of a child with
the proud loyalty that inspires martyrdom? They had loved--David and
Sajipona--there could be no doubt of that. Before he met Una on the
shores of that far-off English lake, David had stood soul to soul in a
heaven created by this radiant being. He was with her again. The past
was completely blotted out; the tender idyl of Derwentwater, of Rysdale,
forgotten. Even the sight of Una herself stirred but the vaguest ripple
of memory. There was mystery, certainly, in these strange moods of
forgetfulness from which David was suffering. Her uncle could give them
a learned name and account for them as belonging to something quite
outside the man's will, outside his control. But what did Leighton
really know of all this? Such matters were beyond the reach of the mere
scientist. With a flash of scorn she doubted Leighton's knowledge; his
wisdom seemed curiously limited. David's malady--if it was to be called
a malady--was nothing less than the delirium caused by love itself,
and as such beyond the reach of clinic or laboratory. The spell, the
witchcraft, that had transformed him was wrought by Sajipona.
At first Una had not believed this; now the sudden conviction that the
man she loved was faithless to her, had always been faithless to her,
brought an overwhelming sense of bitterness. Her former anxiety to save
him--from peril as she thought--gave place to a feeling that was almost
vindictive. She did not view him with the anger of the jealous woman
merely; she wanted to have done with him, to forget him altogether. His
name was linked by this beautiful Indian to one of the legends of her
race; let it remain there!
"Why disturb him now?" she demanded passionately of Sajipona. "He loves
you, he is content."
The revulsion of feeling in her voice was unmistakable. Her cheeks
flushed, her eyes, eloquent hitherto of womanly tenderness, dilated in
anger. Sajipona smiled enigmatically.
"If you had not come," she said, "there would have been no question. But
you are here. He seems to have forgotten you. I am not sure, I want to
be certain, now that he has forgotten you, that he is still himself."
"Why do you doubt? Yes, he has forgotten me. And he is in your power, he
is yours! Why hazard anything further?"
Sajipona ignored the scornful meaning conveyed in the words, regarding
Una with a detachment indicating her absorption in a new train of
thought.
"A moment ago you were anxious for his safety," she murmured. "You came
here to look for him, to rescue him. Perhaps I have been unjust--perhaps
you have a claim----"
"I have no claim," retorted Una proudly. "Once you saved his life. He
has come to you again. He loves you. What man could help loving you!"
she added bitterly.
Still Sajipona smiled.
"I must be sure of all this--and so must you," she said. "If the
witchcraft is mine, its power will soon be broken. If there is something
else, you, Senor, will discover it."
She turned impatiently to Raoul, desiring him to go with her to
David. Una refused to accompany them. The conviction that she had been
mistaken, deluded, filled her with an unconquerable aversion to meeting
the man for whom she had been willing to sacrifice so much. Aware of the
unreasonableness of this feeling, she yet had no wish to conquer it. To
escape from this land of mysteries and terrors, to return to the simple
familiar environment of Rysdale--to forget, if that were possible--was
now her one desire. She did not attempt to explain or justify herself to
Sajipona. Nor was this necessary. To Sajipona, Una's anger and its cause
were alike evident.
"Stay here, if you will, with Narva," said the queen, with real or
feigned indifference. "But remember, you have refused to save the man
whom you think is in danger."
Una did not reply. For the moment the old Indian sibyl, to whose
protection she had been assigned, seemed a welcome refuge. Narva's
reserve, her silence, brought a negative sort of relief to her own moods
of anguish and indignation. Thus, without regret or misgiving, she
watched Raoul and Sajipona disappear through the portal that had first
admitted her to the great hall of the palace.
XXI
DREAMS
David welcomed Sajipona with genuine pleasure, with an eagerness
suggesting that he had been awaiting her coming impatiently. Heedless
of his greeting, however, and regarding him earnestly, she asked if he
remembered the visitor who had been with him a short time before.
"Yes! Yes!" he exclaimed. Then he went on, betraying a certain degree
of anxiety in tone and manner, explaining how this visitor's face had
haunted him as if it belonged to one he had seen in his dreams, one
upon whom he had unwittingly inflicted pain. Of course, that could not
be, he said, since there was no reality in dreams. After all, a fancied
wrong was nothing--and yet, this dim memory of the woman who had been
with them a moment before was confusing. Where was she now? he asked.
Was she offended because he failed to recognize her? He should have
known better--but dreams are troublesome things! He would like to see
her again--although it might be painful in a way--and then, perhaps, he
would recall more distinctly what now was merely a dim sort of shadow in
the back of his brain.
They talked together in the darkened chamber overlooking the portico.
The couch from which he rose to greet Sajipona screened, with its regal
hangings, Raoul from him. When the queen pointed out this new visitor to
him, the result was similar to that following his encounter with Una.
"More dream-people," muttered David, passing his hand slowly across his
eyes. "I know this man, but I can't exactly place him. It will come back
to me in a minute."
Raoul watched him with the intent, impersonal interest a scientist gives
an experiment that is nearing the climax for which everything has been
prepared beforehand.
"I think I can help you," he assured him.
Then, turning to Sajipona; "I must warn you," he said in a low voice.
"There will be a complete change. Why not leave things as they are?"
The queen held her head up proudly.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Raoul shrugged his shoulders, regarding her, and then David, with a
gleam of malice in his restless eyes.
"I mean just this: David will remember vividly what is now only a vague
dream, and he may forget everything else. Therefore, I say, if you are
satisfied with him as he is, don't disturb his present mood."
"I am not satisfied."
"Ah! you are not satisfied. You want to try one more experiment. But,
just think!" he went on, a hint of mockery in his voice; "all that
legend of your people, about a stranger who would appear from a far-off
land and restore the Chibcha Empire--why spoil so pretty a picture? And
the chances are, you will spoil it. I warn you----"
A flash of anger checked his words.