Last of the Incas: A Romance of the Pampas

"Then the ceremony is to take place today?"

"Yes, Blas. I must confess that we live in singular times, and a singular country. I have seen several revolutions, but this one beats them all."

"From the Indian point of view," Concha said, "it is very logical."

"Which of you, a month ago, expected such a sudden re-establishment of the empire of the Incas?"

"Not I," the capataz replied. "Still, it seems to me that Nocobotha is not at all magnanimous for a future emperor."

"What do you mean by that, my friend?"

"Has he not written to Don Sylvio that, if he does not leave the colony in three days, he will have him hung?"

"Before hanging people," said Doña Concha, "it is necessary to catch them."

"All that is very fine, Blas, but you will return to the estancia. Above all, do not forget my instructions."

"Trust to me for that, Excellency; but I am anxious about Pedrito," he added, in a low voice, not to be overheard by Mercedes; "he has disappeared for the last six days, and we have heard nothing about him."

"Don Pedro," Concha remarked, "is not the man to be lost without leaving traces. Reassure yourself, we shall see him again."

"Nocobotha!" Mercedes exclaimed, turning round.

"Blas, my friend, decamp," Don Valentine said.

"Come again soon," Mercedes added.

Nocobotha walked in. The great chief of the Aucas, dressed in his magnificent Indian costume, had a thoughtful brow and anxious look. After the first compliment, Doña Concha, alarmed by the chiefs gloomy appearance, bent forward gracefully to him, and said, with an affectionate air, which was admirably assumed —

"What is the matter with you, Torribio; you seem troubled? Have you received any unpleasant news?"

"No, madam; I thank you. If I were ambitious, all my wishes would be fulfilled. The Patagonian chiefs have resolved on re-establishing the Empire of the Incas, and they have elected me, who am the direct heir, to succeed the unfortunate Athahualpa; but – "

"They have done you justice."

"This distinction terrifies me, and I fear I cannot bear the weight of an empire. The wounds dealt my race by the Spaniards are old and deep. The Indians have been brutalized by a long servitude. What a task it is to command these disunited tribes! Who will carry on my work if I die in twenty years, two years, tomorrow, perhaps? What will become of the dream of my life?"

"Heaven means you to live long, Don Torribio," Doña Concha answered.

"A diadem on my brow! Stay, señorita, I am discouraged, weary of life; it seems to me that the crown will press my temples like a band of iron, and crush them, and that I shall be buried in my triumph!"

"Dismiss these vain presentiments," the girl remarked, giving a side glance full of meaning.

"As you know, madam, the Tarpeian Rock is close to the Capitol."

"Come, come! Don Torribio," Don Valentine said, gaily; "Let us take our places."

A splendid breakfast had been laid. The first moments passed in silence. The guests seemed embarrassed, but by degrees, thanks to Doña Concha's efforts, the conversation became more animated, Nocobotha, it could be easily seen, was making a violent effort to drive back the flood of thoughts that ran to his lips. Toward the end of the repast he turned to the young lady.

"Señorita," he said to her, "this evening all will be over. I shall be Emperor of the Patagonians, and enemy of the Spaniards, who will doubtless return with arms in their hands to overthrow our empire. What they most dread in an Indian insurrection is the reprisals, that is to say, the massacre of the white men. My marriage with an Argentine is a pledge of peace for your countrymen, and a security for their commerce. Doña Concha, give me your hand."

"What hurry is there at this moment, Don Torribio?" she asked. "Are you not sure of me?"

"Ever the same vague and obscure answer," the chief said with a frown. "Child, you are playing with a lion, and I see to the bottom of your heart. Imprudent girl, you are rushing on your own destruction; but no, you are in my power; and after saving your life ten times, I offer you half a throne. Tomorrow, madam, you will and must marry me. Your father's and Don Sylvio's heads will answer for your obedience."

And seizing a crystal bottle full of limpid water, he filled his glass to the brim, and emptied it at a draught, while Doña Concha gazed at him fixedly; this look contained a cruel and concealed joy.

"In an hour," he added as he placed the glass on the table again, "you will be present at the ceremony by my side; I insist on it."

"I will be there," she replied.

"Farewell, madam."

The young lady rose quickly, seized the bottle, and walked up to the window.

"What are you going to do there?" Don Valentine asked.

"I am watering my flowers, father."

While pouring out the water, Concha, whose eye sparkled with a gloomy fire, muttered to herself —

"Don Torribio, you told me one day that there's many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip; well, listen to me in my turn; between your forehead and a crown there is death!"

She then placed two flower pots near the balustrade on the terrace of the house. This was doubtless a signal, for in a few minutes Mercedes entered the saloon hurriedly, saying —

"He is here."

"Let him come in," Don Valentine and his daughter said simultaneously.

Pedrito made his appearance. The estanciero recommended the utmost vigilance to Mercedes, closed the door, and then seated himself by the bombero's side.

"Well?" he asked him.

The Plaza Mayor on this day offered an unexpected sight. In the centre rose a tall scaffold covered with red velvet tapestry, on which a chair of carved nopal wood was placed. The back was surmounted by a massive gold sun flashing with diamonds; a vulture of the Andes, the sacred bird of the Incas, also of gold, held in its bent beak an imperial crown, while in its claws it had a sceptre terminating in a trident, and a hand of justice holding a dazzling sun. This vulture, with outstretched wings, seemed hovering over the chair, to which there was an ascent of four steps. On the right of this chair was another, somewhat lower, but more simple.

At midday, the moment when the day star at its zenith darts forth all its beams, five cannon shots, fired at regular intervals, boomed forth majestically. At the same moment the different Patagonian tribes debouched through each of the entrances of the square, led by their Ulmen, and dressed in their robes of state. Only fifteen thousand warriors were assembled, for, according to the Indian custom, so soon as Carmen was taken, the booty was sent under safe escort to the mountains, and the Patagonian troops disbanded and returned to their tolderías, ready to come back, however, on the first signal.

The tribes drew up on three sides, leaving the fourth vacant, which was soon occupied by five hundred gauchos. The latter were mounted and well armed, while the Indians were on foot, and had only their machetes in their girdle. The windows were lined with spectators, behind whom Indian women, irregularly grouped, thrust out their heads over their shoulders.

The centre of the square was free. In front of the scaffolding, and at the foot of a clumsy altar shaped like a table, with a deep gutter running down it and a sun above it, stood the great matchi of the Patagonians and twenty priests, all with their arms crossed, and their eyes fixed on the ground.

When all had taken their places, five more gunshots were fired, and a brilliant cavalcade came up. Nocobotha, who marched at their head, with Doña Concha on his right and Don Valentine on his left, held his totem in his hand. After them came the principal Ulmens and caraskens of the united nations, with their brilliant ornaments of gold and precious stones.

Nocobotha got off his horse, held out his hand to Doña Concha to help her to dismount, mounted the scaffold, led her to the second chair, and himself stopped before the first one, though without sitting down. His ordinary pale features were inflamed, his eyes seemed swollen by watching, and he incessantly wiped away the perspiration that stood on his forehead. Something unusual was going on within him. Doña Concha's pallor was extreme, but her face was tranquil.

The Ulmens surrounded the scaffold, and at a third cannonade, the priests stepped on one side and displayed a securely bound man lying on the ground in their midst. The matchi turned to the crowd.

"All you who listen to me, the Sun, our ancestor, has smiled on our arms, and Gualichu himself fought for us. The empire of the Incas is established, the Indians are free, and the supreme chief of the Patagonian nation, Nocobotha, is about to place on his head the diadem of Athahualpa. In the name of the new emperor and ourselves we are about to offer to the Sun from whom he is descended, the most grateful of all sacrifices. Priests, bring up the victim."