Mr. Fortescue - William Westall (i read a book .txt) 📗

/> "Because you are a daughter of the Incas, and there is no man in Pachatupec of equal rank with yourself."

"Once there was not, but now there is."

I breathed again; she surely could not mean me.

"There is now--there has been some time," she continued, after a short pause. "Know you who he is?"

I said that I had not the slightest idea.

"Yourself, senor; you are the man."

"Impossible, Mamcuna! I am of very inferior rank, indeed--a common soldier, a mere nobody."

"You are too modest, senor; you do yourself an injustice. A man with so white a skin, a beard so long, and eyes so beautiful must be of royal lineage, and fit to mate even with the daughter of the Incas."

"You are quite mistaken, Mamcuna; I am utterly unworthy of so great an honor."

"You are not, I tell you. Please don't contradict me, senor" (she always called me 'senor'); "it makes me angry. You are the man whom I delight to honor and desire to wed; what would you have more?"

"Nothing--I would not have so much. You are too good; but it would be wrong. I really cannot let you throw yourself away on a nameless foreigner. Besides what would your caciques say?"

"If any man dare say a word against you I will have his tongue torn out by the roots."

"But suppose I am married already--that I have left a wife in my own country?" I urged in desperation.

"That would not matter in the least. She is not likely to come hither, and I will take care that I am your only wife in this country."

"Your condescension quite overwhelms me. But all this is so sudden; you must really give me a little time--"

"A little time! why? You perhaps think I am not sincere, that I do not mean what I say, that I may change my mind. Have no fear on that score. There shall be no delay. The preparations for our wedding shall be begun at once, and ten days hence, dear senor, you will be my husband."

What could I say? I had, of course, no intention of marrying her--I would as lief have married a leopardess. But had I given her a peremptory negative she might have had me laid by the heels without more ado, or worse. So I bowed my head and held my tongue, resolving at the same time that, before the expiration of the ten days' respite, I would get out of the country or perish in the attempt. Whereupon Mamcuna, taking my silence for consent, showed great delight, patted me on the back, caressed my beard, fondled my hands, and called me her lord. Fortunately, kissing was not an institution in Pachatupec.

One good result of our betrothal, if I may so call it, was that the preparations for the wedding took up so much of Mamcuna's time that she had none left for me, and I had leisure and opportunity to contrive a plan of escape, if I could, for, as I quickly discovered, the difficulties in the way were almost if not altogether insurmountable. I could neither go back to the eastern Cordillera by the road I had come, nor, without guides, find any other pass, either farther north or farther south. Westward was a range of barren hills bounded by a sandy desert, destitute of life or the means of supporting life, and stretching to the desolate Pacific coast, whence, even if I could reach it, I should have no means of getting away.

There was, moreover, nobody to whom I could appeal for counsel or help. Gondocori thought me the most fortunate of men, and was quite incapable of understanding my scruples. Gahra, albeit willing to go with me, knew no more of the country than I did, and there was not a man in it who could have been induced even by a bribe either to act as my guide or otherwise connive at my escape; and I had no inducement to offer.

Nevertheless, the opportunity I was looking for came, as opportunities often do come, spontaneously and unexpectedly, yet in shape so questionable that it was open to doubt whether, if I accepted it, my second condition would not be worse than my first.


CHAPTER XXIV.

IN THE TOILS.

Five days after I had been wooed by the irresistible Mamcuna, and as I was beginning to fear that I should have to marry her first and run away afterward, I chanced to be riding in the neighborhood of the village, when a woman darted out of the thicket and, standing before my horse, held up her arms imploringly. I had never spoken to her, but I knew her as the white wife of one of the caciques.

"Save me, senor!" she exclaimed, "for the love of heaven and in the name of our common Christianity, I implore you to save me!"

"From what?"

"From my wretched life, from despair, degradation, and death." And then she told me that, while travelling in the mountains with her husband, a certain Senor de la Vega, and several friends, they were set upon by a band of Pachatupecs who, after killing all the male members of the party, carried her off and brought her to Pachacamac, where she had been compelled to become one of the wives of the cacique Chimu, and that between his brutality and the jealousy of the other women, her life, apart from its ignominy, was so utterly wretched that, unless she could escape, she must either go mad or be driven to commit suicide.

"I should be only too glad to rescue you if I could. I want to escape myself; but how? I see no way."

"It is not so difficult as you think, senor; if we can get horses and a few hours' start, I will act as guide and lead you to a civilized settlement, where we shall be safe from pursuit. I know the country well."

"Are you quite sure you can do this, senora? It will be a hazardous enterprise, remember."

"Quite sure."

"And you are prepared to incur the risk?"

"I will run any risk rather than stay where I am."

"Very well, I will see what can be done. Meet me here to-morrow at this hour. And now, we had better separate; if we are seen together it will be bad for both of us. _Hasta manana_."

And then she went her way and I went mine.

I had said truly "a hazardous enterprise." Hazardous and difficult in any circumstances, the hazard and the difficulty would be greatly increased by the presence of a woman; and the fact of a cacique's wife being one of the companions of my flight would add to the inveteracy of the pursuit. I greatly doubted, moreover, whether Senora de la Vega knew the country as well as she asserted. She was so sick of her wretched condition that she would say or do anything to get away from it--and no wonder. But was I justified in letting her run the risk? The punishment of a woman who deserted her husband was death by burning; were Senora de la Vega caught, this punishment would be undoubtedly inflicted; were it even suspected that she had met me or any other man, secretly, Chimu would almost certainly kill her. Pachatupec husbands had the power of life and death over their wives, and they were as jealous and as cruel as Moors. Yet death was better than the life she was compelled to lead, and as she was fully cognizant of the risk it seemed my duty to do all that I could to facilitate her escape.

Then another thought occurred to me. Could this be a trap, a "put up job," as the phrase goes. Though the _caciques_ had not dared to make any open protest against Mamcuna's matrimonial project, I knew that they were bitterly opposed to it, and nothing, I felt sure, would please them better than to kindle the queen's jealousy by making it appear that I was engaged in an intrigue with one of Chimu's wives.

Yet no, I could not believe it. No Christian woman would play so base a part. Senora de la Vega could have no interest in betraying me. She hated her savage husband too heartily to be the voluntary instrument of my destruction, and she was so utterly wretched that I pitied her from my soul.

A creole of pure Spanish blood and noble family, bereft of her husband, forced to become the slave of a brutal Indian, and the constant associate of hardly less brutal women, painfully conscious of her degradation, hopeless of any amendment of her lot, poor Senora de la Vega's fate would have touched the hardest heart. And she had little children at home! My suspicions vanished even more quickly than they had been conceived, and before I reached my quarters I had decided that, come what might, the attempt should be made.

The next question was how and when. Clearly, the sooner the better; but whether we had better set off at sunrise or sunset was open to doubt. By leaving at sunset we should be less easily followed; on the other hand, we should have greater difficulty in finding our way and be sooner missed. It was generally about sunset that Mamcuna sent for me, and I knew that at this time it would be well-nigh impossible for Senora de la Vega to leave Chimu's house without being observed and questioned, perhaps followed. So when we met as agreed, I told her that I had decided to make the attempt on the next morning, and asked her to be in a grove of plantains, hard by, an hour before dawn. I besought her, whatever she did, to be punctual; our lives depended on our stealing away before people were stirring.

Meanwhile Gahra and I had laid our plans. He was to give out the night before that we were setting off early next morning on a hunting expedition. This would enable us, without exciting suspicion, to take a supply of provisions, arms, and a led horse (for carrying any game we might kill) and, as I hoped, give us a long start. For even when Senora de la Vega was missed nobody would suspect that she had gone with us.

In the event--as we hoped, the improbable event--of our being overtaken or intercepted, Gahra and I were resolved not to be taken alive; but we had, unfortunately, no firearms; they were all lost in the snow-storm. Our only weapons were bows and arrows and machetes. I carried the former merely as a make-believe, to keep up my character as a hunter; for the same reason we took with us a brace of dogs. If it came to fighting I should have to put my trust in my _machete_, a long broad-bladed sword like a knife, formidable as a lethal weapon, yet chiefly used for clearing away brambles and cutting down trees.

All went well at the beginning. We were up betimes and off with our horses before daylight. The braves on duty asked no questions, there was no reason why they should, and we passed through the village without meeting a soul.

So far, good. The omens seemed favorable, and my hopes ran high. We should get off without anybody knowing which way we had taken, and several hours before Senora de la Vega was likely to be missed.

But when we reached the rendezvous she was not there. I whistled and called softly; nobody answered.

"She will be here