Mr. Fortescue by William Westall (best books for 8th graders .TXT) 📕

presently, we must wait," I said to Gahra.

It was terribly annoying. Every minute was precious. The Pachatupecs are early risers, and if Senora de la Vega did not join us before daylight we might be seen and the opportunity lost. The sun rose; still she did not come, and I had just made up my mind to put off our departure until the next morning, and try to communicate with Senora de la Vega in the meantime, when Gahra pointed to a pathway in the wood, where his sharp eyes had detected the fluttering of a robe.

At last she was coming. But too late. To start at that time would be madness, and I was about to tell her so, send her back, and ask her to meet me on the next morning, when she ran forward with terrified face and uplifted hands.

"Save me! Save me!" she cried, "I could not get away sooner. I have been watched. They are following me, even now."

This was a frightful misfortune, and I feared that the senora had acted very imprudently. But it was no time either for reproaches or regrets, and the words were scarcely out of her mouth when I lifted her into the saddle; as I did so, I caught sight of two horsemen and several foot-people, coming down the pathway.

"Go!" I said to Gahra, "I shall stay here."

"But, senor--"

"Go, I say; as you love me, go at once. This lady is in your charge. Take good care of her. I can keep these fellows at bay until you are out of sight and, if possible, I will follow. At once, please, at once!"

They went, Gahra's face expressing the keenest anguish, the senora half dead with fear. As they rode away I turned into the pathway and prepared for the encounter. The foot-people might do as they liked, they could not overtake the fugitives, but I was resolved that the horsemen should only pass over my body.

The foremost of them was Chimu himself. When he saw that I had no intention of turning aside, he and his companion (who rode behind him) reined in their horses. The cacique was quivering with rage.

"My wife has gone off with your negro," he said, hoarsely.

I made no answer.

"I saw you help her to mount. You have met her before. Mamcuna shall know of this, and my wife shall die."

Still I made no answer.

"Let me pass!"

I drew my _machete_.

Chimu drew his and came at me, but he was so poor a swordsman, that I merely played with him, my object being to gain time, and only when the other fellow tried to push past me and get to my left-rear, did I cut the cacique down. On this his companion bolted the way he had come. I galloped after him, more with the intention of frightening than hurting him, and was just on the point of turning back and following the fugitives, when something dropped over my head, my arms were pinioned to my side, and I was dragged from my saddle.

The foot-people had lassoed me.


CHAPTER XXV.

THE MAN-KILLER.

I was as helpless as a man in a strait waistcoat. When I tried to rise, my captors tautened the rope and dragged me along the ground. Resistance being futile, I resigned myself to my fate.

On seeing what had happened, the flying brave (a kinsman of Chimu's) returned, and he and the others held a palaver. As Mamcuna's affianced husband, I was a person of importance, and they were evidently at a loss how to dispose of me. If they treated me roughly, they might incur her displeasure. The discussion was long and rather stormy. In the result, I was asked whether I would go with them quietly to the queen's house or be taken thither, _nolens volens_. On answering that I would go quietly, I was unbound and allowed to mount my horse.

I do not think I am a coward, and in helping Senora de la Vega to escape and sending her off with Gahra, I knew that I had done the right thing. Yet I looked forward to the approaching interview with some misgiving. Barbarian though Mamcuna was, I could not help entertaining a certain respect for her. She had treated me handsomely; in offering to make me her husband she had paid me the greatest compliment in her power; and how little soever you may reciprocate the sentiment, it is impossible to think altogether unkindly of the woman who has given you her love. And my conscience was not free from reproach; I had let her think that I loved her--as I now perceived, a great mistake. Courageous herself, she could appreciate courage in others, and had I boldly and unequivocally refused her offer and given my reasons, I did not believe she would have dealt hardly with me.

As it was Mamcuna might well say that, having deliberately deceived her, I deserved the utmost punishment which it was in her power to inflict. At the same time, I was not without hope that when she heard my defence she would spare my life.

By the time we reached the queen's house my escort had swollen into a crowd, and one of the caciques went in to inform Mamcuna what had befallen and ask for her instructions.

In a few minutes he brought word that the queen would see me and the people who had taken part in my capture forthwith. We found her sitting in her _chinchura_, in the room where she and I first met. Bather to my surprise she was calm and collected; yet there was a convulsive twitching of her lips and an angry glitter in her eyes that boded ill for my hopes of pardon.

"Is it true, this they tell me, senor--that you have been helping Chimu's wife to escape, and killed Chimu?" she asked.

"It is true."

"So you prefer this wretched pale-face woman to me?"

"No, Mamcuna."

"Why, then, did you help her to escape and kill her husband? Don't trifle with me."

"Because I pitied her."

"Why?"

"Chimu treated her ill, and she was very wretched. She wanted to go back to her own country, and she has little children at home."

"What was her wretchedness to you? Did you not know that you were incurring my displeasure and risking your own life?"

"I did. But a Christian caballero holds it his duty to protect the weak and deliver the oppressed, even at the risk of his own life."

Mamcuna looked puzzled. The sentiment was too fine for her comprehension.

"You talk foolishness, senor. No man would run into danger for a woman whom he did not desire to make his own."

"I had no desire to make Senora de la Vega my wife. I would have done the same for any other woman."

"For any other woman! Would you risk your life for me, senor?"

"Surely, Mamcuna, if you were in sorrow or distress and I could do you any good thereby."

"It is well, senor; your voice has the ring of truth," said the queen, softly, and with a gratified smile, "and inasmuch as you went not away with Chimu's pale-faced wife, but let her depart with the negro--"

"The senor would have gone also had we not hindered him," interposed Chimu's kinsman. "We saw him lift the woman into the saddle, and he was turning to follow her when Lurin caught him with the lasso."

"Is this true; would you have gone with the woman?" asked the queen, sternly, her smile changing into an ominous frown.

"It is true; but let me explain--"

"Enough; I will not hear another word. So you would have left me, a daughter of the Incas, who have honored you above all other men, and gone away with a woman you say you do not love! Your heart is full of deceit, your mouth runs over with lies. You shall die; so shall the white woman and the black slave. Where are they? Bring them hither."

The caciques and braves who were present stared at each other in consternation. In their exultation and excitement over my capture the fugitives had been forgotten.

"Mules! Idiots! Old women! Follow them and bring them back. They shall be burned in the same fire. As for you, senor, because you cured me of my sickness and were to have been my husband I will let you choose the method of your death. You may either be roasted before a slow fire, hacked to pieces with _machetes_, or fastened on the back of the man-killer and sent to perish in the desert. Choose."

"Just one word of explanation, Mamcuna. I would fain--"

"Silence! or I will have your tongue torn out by the roots. Choose!"

"I choose the man-killer."

"You think it will be an easier death than being hacked to pieces. You are wrong. The vultures will peck out your eyes, and you will die of hunger and thirst. But as you have said so let it be. Tie him to the back of the man-killer, men, and chase it into the desert. If you let him escape you die in his place. But treat him with respect; he was nearly my husband."

And then Mamcuna, sinking back into her _chinchura_, covered her face with her hands; but she showed no sign of relenting, and I was bound with ropes and hurried from the room.

The man-killer was a nandu[1] belonging to the queen, and had gained his name by killing one man and maiming several others who unwisely approached him when he was in an evil temper. Save for an occasional outburst of homicidal mania and his abnormal size and strength, the man-killer did not materially differ from the other nandus of Mamcuna's flock. His keeper controlled the bird without difficulty, and I had several times seen him mount and ride it round an inclosure.

[1] The American ostrich.

The desert, as I have already mentioned, lies between the Cordillera and the Pacific Ocean, stretching almost the entire length of the Peruvian coast, with here and there an oasis watered by one or other of the few streams which do not lose themselves in the sand before they reach the sea. It is a rainless, hideous region of naked rocks and whirling sands, destitute of fresh water and animal life, a region into which, except for a short distance, the boldest traveller cares not to venture.

After leaving the queen's house I was placed in charge of a party of braves commanded by a cacique, and we set out for the place where my expiation was to begin. The nandu, led by his keeper and another man, of course went with us. My conductors, albeit they made no secret of their joy over my downfall, did their mistress's bidding, and treated me with respect. They loosed my bonds, taking care, however, so to guard me as to render escape impossible, and, when we halted, gave me to eat and drink. But their talk was not encouraging. In their opinion, nothing could save me from a horrible death, probably of thirst. The best that I could hope for was being smothered in a sandstorm. The man-killer would probably go on till he dropped from exhaustion, and then, whether I was alive or dead, birds of prey would pick out my eyes and tear the flesh from my bones.

About midday we reached