The Bride of the Sun

“Speak, sir,” he said; “time passes.”

“Have you any money?” asked Garcia bruskly.

“Money? What for? To…” He was on the point of saying “to bribe you,” but stopped at a suppliant look from Natividad, who was signing desperately to him from behind the Dictator’s back.

Garcia, remembering there was somebody else in the room, took Natividad by the arm, and put him out of the room without a word. Then he sat down at a little table loaded with papers, rested his head in his hands, and began to speak in an undertone, without looking at the Marquis, still standing and suspicious.

“I can do nothing for you against the Red Ponchos and the mammaconas. Their house, or their temporary quarters, must be sacred, for they have the relics of Atahualpa with them. You say your children are in that house as well. That may be, but I am helpless to prove or disprove it. It is horrible, I agree, but I am powerless. You say that my soldiers are guarding the house? That is not true. I am nobody in all this. Who put them there? Oviedo Runtu. They are Oviedo Runtu’s soldiers.”

He paused for a moment.

“Who is Oviedo Runtu? A bank-clerk whom you may have had dealings with at Lima? Yes, and no. He is a bank clerk, but he is also the master of every Quichua in the country. Yes, he dresses like a European, and earns a humble living among us, but meanwhile he is studying all our institutions, our financial methods, all our secrets. He earns two hundred soles a month behind a counter, and he is perhaps a king. I don’t know. “King or not, all the Quichua and Aimara chiefs are his slaves. Huascar, your former servant, is his right hand.... If you ask me, a man who has dreamed the regeneration of his race! That’s what he is.... When I was preparing this revolt at Arequipa, Huascar came and offered me Oviedo Runtu’s aid, and I accepted the alliance because I could not do otherwise. Do you understand now? It is not I, but Oviedo Runtu.... He is in your way, as he is in mine.... And, believe me, I am as sorry for you as for myself.”

“That’s the man. I can see his hand in it all.”

“As I said before, force is out of the question. But though I cannot fight the Red Ponchos, you can bribe them. They are Quichuas, and any Indian can be bought. That is why I asked if you had any money.”

“No, I have none,” replied the Marquis, who had been listening to the Dictator eagerly. “We left in a hurry, and I had not time to think of it.”

“Fortunately, though, I have.”

Garcia whistled in a certain manner, and the Minister for Finance came in.

“Where is the war chest?”

“Under the bed, Excellency.” The Minister went down on his knees, and dragged an iron-bound box to Garcia’s side.

“You may go now.”

When they were alone again, Garcia took a little key from his pocket, opened the box, and took out a bundle of bank-notes, which he threw on the table. Locking the box, he pushed it under the bed again, picked up the notes, and handed them to the Marquis.

“Count them afterwards, and pay me back in Lima, when I am President. There is enough there to bleach every Red Poncho in existence. They are gentlemen who know the value of those little pieces of paper. Oviedo Runtu himself probably taught them. Good-by, señor, and good luck.”

“Excellency,” said the Marquis, forgetting that a moment before he had called this man a murderer, “I do not thank you… but if I succeed…”

“Yes, yes, I know… your life and fortune are mine.”

“One word more. I shall try to bribe your troopers with the rest.”

“By all means! By all means!”

“And if we fail, Excellency, I warn you that weak as we are, desperate as the venture may be, we shall attack those priests and their escort. Can we count on your neutrality?”

“Most certainly. And if by chance you injure Oviedo, I shall not have you hauled up before a court-martial!”

They shook hands, and the Marquis ran out. As he crossed the threshold, Garcia shrugged his shoulders.

“His daughter is lost, but he, the fool, has been bought by me. All this would not have happened if she had married me.”

At the bottom of the staircase, the Marquis found Natividad waiting anxiously. In the street, they met Dick, who had come to look for them. He was pale and agitated, and it was evident that some extraordinary event had made him leave his post.

“What has happened?” asked the Marquis.

“Back to the inn, quick! We must decide on some course of action. What did Garcia say?”

“That he could do nothing for us. But he gave me money and a piece of advice that may save them. But what made you leave your post? Are they still there?”

“Yes. Only one person has left the house. Huascar. I followed, determined to corner him, and kill him like a dog, if need he. He went straight to our inn, and asked for you. They told him you had gone out, but were returning. He then said he would wait, so I came to fetch you.”

“They are saved!” exclaimed Don Christobal. “Why else should Huascar come to see me?”

“I don’t like the man, and don’t believe in him. You must not forget that you have to do with a fanatic, and one who owes Maria-Teresa a grudge.”

“My wife found him starving in the street, and gave him shelter. I cannot believe he has altogether forgotten that.... I have always thought he was in the whole business against his will, and determined to save Maria-Teresa sooner or later. Hurry!”

“I hope you’re right, but I don’t believe it,” replied Dick. “We’ll have him cornered in a minute, and if he doesn’t answer my questions properly, he’ll be sorry.”

“You must not forget, Dick, that they have hostages.”

“Hostages which they will massacre even if we let Huascar go free, sir! I would give anything to wring his neck!”

“And I, boy, would give anything to save my children.”

The Marquis’ tone was so icy that Dick refrained from further comment.

Just before they reached the inn, Natividad noticed on the opposite pavement a tall old man leaning on a shepherd’s crook, and watching the door through which Huascar had entered. A ragged cloak hung over his thin shoulders, and a straggling white beard framed a face so white that it was deathlike. Natividad stopped, and looked at him hard.

“I know that face,” he muttered. “Who is it? Who is it?”

Don Christobal, entering the inn, told Dick that he was going to their room, and asked him to bring Huascar there. The stairs leading up to the first floor were just inside the archway, and the Marquis, putting his foot on the first step, noticed Natividad staring across the road. His eye followed, and he also was struck by a sudden vague memory.

“Who on earth is that?” he wondered. “I have seen that man before.”

IV

Hardly had the Marquis entered the room than Huascar made his appearance, followed by Dick and Natividad, like a prisoner with his two guards. The Indian swept off his hat, with a grave “Dios anki tiourata,” To wish a white man good-day thus, in the sacred Aimara language, was a sign of great respect. Then, seeing that the Marquis did not respond to the greeting, Huascar began to speak in Spanish.

“Señor, I bring you news of the señorita and your son. If the God of the Christians, whom the benefactress worshiped, aids me, they will both be restored to you.”

Don Christobal, though seething within, forced himself to the same calm as the Indian.

“Why have you and yours committed this crime?” he questioned, crossing his arms.

“Why did you and yours commit the crime of not watching over them? Had you not been warned? Huascar, for your sake, twice betrayed his brethren, his god, and his country. He remembered that the mother of the señorita once befriended a naked child in Callao. That is why he has sworn to save her daughter from the terrible honor of entering the Enchanted Realms of the Sun.”

Don Christobal half held out his hand, but the Indian did not take it, smiling sadly.

“Gracias, señor.”