CHAPTER XXIIRava in the ToilsNext morning early Pedro's mule, held by Pedrillo, stood at his door, surrounded by a whispering, awe-stricken group of native urchins lingering to see the dread beast mounted by the Viracocha of the fabulous leg. As Pedro appeared the brute twitched an ear toward him, opened his mouth, and drew breath in a faint, rasping, wheezy note of salutation. Pedro was gloomy, but he paused to rub the gray nose."Ah, my good friend," he said, with feeling, "there is melancholy in thine accent—belike, the echo of a melancholy in thy soul, like that in mine. 'T is but a sorry life: we're agreed in that, and comrades in misery. Thou, a mule, a cook's mule; I, a cook, a one-legged cook; and a panting, surcharged, vociferous Bolio at our heels, following with the pertinacy of doom! But if thou, too, hast doleful thoughts, forbear to voice them, lest I be brought to tears. Now, prithee, lend me thy back.Adiós, Pedrillo. Remember thefrijoles. Burn them again, scamp, and I'll—Whoa, mule! Thou misbegotten whimsy, I thought I read sadness in thine eye,—and 't was the devil. Be done, or I'll chew thine ear! Farewell, Pedrillo."Pedro was off. Half-an-hour's ride took him through the suburbs, and he turned into the military road toward the grim fortress overlooking the town. A short, steep climb, and he was at the gate, bantered by the guard about the coming of Señora Bolio. Within was a citadel, surrounded by buildings for the garrison, or the townspeople when driven by war, and quarters for the Inca's officers. As Pedro was passing he was hailed by the familiar pipe of Rogelio. He drew rein, not in the best of grace, awaiting theveedor'sapproach."Ah, Pedro, my good friend," said Rogelio, "I am pleased to see thee. I had thee in mind, 't is but a moment since. I——""Ware the heels of the mule!" bellowed Pedro, with a violence that startled theveedorinto sudden agility in a backward spring."My soul and body!" exclaimed Rogelio, rolling his eyes from the beast to its rider. "No need to roar, my friend. Thine animal looketh gentle enough.""He hideth an abundance of wickedness under a smooth exterior—like some of his brethren who go on two legs," remarked Pedro."Ah?" Rogelio eyed the cook suspiciously."Ah!" returned Pedro. "But, hadst aught to say, SeñorVeedor?""Why, I have, good Pedro," said Rogelio, recovering. "In a few days—perhaps a fortnight, perhaps very soon—I expect—that is to say, I—he, he, Pedro!—'tis a delicate subject—but—well, I may need a woman servant. Just a common servant, Pedro.""Ah!" said the cook. "Just a common servant! So! 'T is a common need,Veedor, shared by common and uncommon. I thank thee for thy confidence, Señor. I'll betray it to no man." And apparently considering the interview closed, Pedro gathered his reins to go."Wait!" shouted theveedor. "Blockhead, that is not all!""Not all, Señor! Thou hast need of two?"Theveedorpiped a curse, then controlled himself and went on with a smile of forced amiability. "I mean it is not all I have to say, Pedro. In a few days—or less—I hope to share thy happiness.""My happiness!" exclaimed Pedro, mystified. "Oh, I see! The Señor is going to turn cook.""Damnation!" squeaked theveedor; then stifling his rage, he continued: "No, no! Not that. By thy happiness I mean thineinamorada, the Señora Bolio——""Oh, blessed saints!" interrupted Pedro. "Thou wouldst share my happiness in the Señora? Take it all, Señor! Take the whole of her. By heaven, I'll send her up entire! Wait but an hour." He started to turn his mule."Stop, fool!" choked the exasperatedveedor; and grasping at a rein, narrowly escaped a kick. He sprang out of range with a gasp."Well," said Pedro, complacently, "I gave thee warning, Señor. But hast more to say?"It was a minute before Rogelio regained his speech. "Yes!" he shrilled. "Perdition! Yes! If thou wilt but hold thy tongue!""Bueno! I listen. Proceed, SeñorVeedor."Rogelio drew near again and said, with difficulty, forcing a grin: "Now, in the devil's name, give heed; and forbear to fly off the bowstring until I have finished! What I've tried to get into thy pate is this. In a few days I shall have a guest, Pedro." He looked cautiously about and whispered, "A maiden, my friend—the fairest heathen in the land. I'll not say her name—he, he!—that shall be a secret. But, I would have a woman servant—one worthy of dependence, dost mark? Canst find me one? Thou 'rt known to the townsfolk, and I am not. What sayst? There will be some moderate compensation for thy time and trouble, Pedro,—moderate, mind thee, for I am a poor man; though," he looked about again, "I'll tell thee this, once I have her safe, there will be treasure untold at my command—Ah! Hum!—That is, Pedro, a fair sum—rather small, in fact—little more than enough for my requirements, for I have a fam——" He stopped short, snuffled, and went on hastily, "I'll pay thee, Pedro. Wilt find me a servant?"Pedro concealed both his contempt and his suddenly roused interest, and after brief scrutiny of the tallowy face and protuberant eyes, looked away. "Why," he drawled, "for the time it hath taken thee to get it out, 't is a simple matter. Doubtless I can find a woman. I'll look about.""Do so, my worthy friend," said Rogelio, rubbing his hands. "It will be worth thy while.""No doubt," answered Pedro. "Adiós, Señor." He rode away."Dolt, lunk-head, clod-pate!" muttered Rogelio, looking viciously after him."Oily scoundrel!" muttered Pedro. "Slimy dastard." Then he chuckled. "Oh, give me but an hour, and I could work him into a fit! His rage striketh at his vitals. But, let us see! A maiden, the fairest in the land, and treasure untold! God's love! Can it be she?" He reined up, the better to think, and sat in study, his geniality of countenance giving place to grave concern. Shortly he rode on, still pondering.Pedro's mission to the fortress was to see the sick armorer and warn him against Fray Mauricio, with the advice that José go straightway to Cuzco, where Pizarro would hold him safe. The Morisco was so ill, however, that he said nothing of his errand, and after an hour at the bedside, took his departure.Pedro rode back much occupied with uneasy thoughts of Cristoval and Rava. He had heard nothing of their fate, and it was generally believed that they had perished in the mountains. After De Valera had been found in the canyon by his companions even the Cañares had lost the scent. Still Pedro hoped, and better, prayed with right good-will. Now he determined to watch for Rogelio's expected guest, his suspicion thoroughly roused by the morning's conversation.Two days later he was again riding toward the fortress. On this occasion, however, he went beyond, making inquiries for thehuasiof one Municancha, master-mason. Rewarded at length, he was received with distinction by the dignified Indio and his interesting family, to whom he made himself so agreeable that he was pressed to come again, the small children chasing the dust of his mule for many yards, with shrill farewell and reiterated invitation.Pedro rode back in an enviable frame of mind. It was dark when he passed the road to the fortress, and he had gone a little beyond when his mule stopped with a suddenness that sent his hand smartly to his sword-hilt. He distinguished a shadowy group of figures ahead, and hearing a word in Spanish, he prodded his animal with his single spur and rode forward. The strangers had drawn off to let him pass. As he neared them Pedro hailed:—"Hob,compadres! A good-night to you.""Oh, 't is Pedro!" he heard one say in relief, then the ring of ordered pikes, and, "Good-night, Pedro!" briefly."What cheer, friends?" asked the cook, drawing rein; but they moved on without response. He grunted at their discourtesy and went his way, failing to observe in the darkness that two of the number bore ahamaca.The party halted near the fortress gate. Duero was challenged by the sentinel, seating himself wearily while the soldier drawled his call for the sergeant. The officer appeared, a parley followed, and the gate swung open."Well, and what fortune,amigo?" asked the old sergeant, surveying Duero as he stood scowling in the lantern light. "Why, man, thou'rt haggard!"The other replied with an oath: "Not the worst fortune, but so near the worst that, curse me, 't would be no easy choice between them. Dost pass my party?""Pass them," said the sergeant, and Duero called to his companions; then, not wishing to be interrogated, gave the officer good-night. The sergeant watched thehamacapast the gate, and with a grimace to his sentinel, retired to the guard-room. Since the death of Atahualpa he had seen the like more than once.Inside the gate Duero dismissed his remnant of the Cañares. Taking up the silent and closely curtainedhamaca, the Spaniards were presently pounding at theveedor'sdoor. An Indio servant opened to them, and the litter was carried into the court. Apprised of its arrival, Rogelio hurried out.Duero ignored his greeting and demanded bluntly: "Where is the cage, SeñorVeedor? Here is the bird.""Oh, my stars!" snuffled Rogelio, rubbing his hands and sidling round thehamaca. "Is she there, indeed?—and in good condition, Duero? Remember, that was part of the stipulation—that she should be unharmed, and in good condition.""As to being unharmed, I'll answer for it," replied the soldier. "As for her condition, you can figure for yourself what it is like to be after such a journey. Where will you have her put? Come! We're weary.""This way," said Rogelio, in a fluster. "The room is all prepared—a bower, Duero, a very bower! He, he! Wait! I'll fetch a lamp." He scuttled away, reappeared with a light, and led the way to a door opening upon the patio. It was fastened with a heavy padlock. Fumbling for a second, he threw open the door. Thehamacawas carried in, the door closed, and while Rogelio edged round eagerly with the lamp, striving for a glimpse, Duero threw back the curtains and lifted Rava, almost lifeless, from the litter. She moaned as he bore her to the couch, and he hastened to remove the bonds and gag she had worn since nearing Xauxa. She gave no other evidence of animation."Here—the light!" commanded Duero, gruffly, and took it without ceremony from theveedor'shand, bending over the girl in scrutiny. Rogelio hovered about, twisting his fat fingers, and straining to have a look at the pale, drawn face almost hidden by her disordered tresses. It was a face to move the compassion of a savage. The rough soldier felt its pathos, for he straightened up and said brusquely:—"She needeth looking after, 't is a certainty. Fetch a woman at once, SeñorVeedor.""A woman!" piped Rogelio. "Why, there's no woman about. I have spoken for one, and may have her to-morrow.""No woman about!" exclaimed Duero, turning upon him sternly. "Do you say there is none to give this girl the care she needeth?""To-morrow—" began theveedorweakly."To-morrow!—To-night! This night,Veedor, or she goeth to Xauxa." Duero's black eyes travelled over Rogelio with an expression the latter did not care to meet."To-night! Impossible, Duero!" he whined. "There is not a woman in the fortress save two just come from San Miguel, and they—" He shook his head."Then, Señor, you will fetch one from Xauxa," said Duero, with determination."Curse me if I will!" retorted theveedor, angrily. "And look thou, Duero: this is mine affair. Thy part in it is done. Thou'lt refrain from meddling."Duero motioned his companions forward, and stepped to raise the Ñusta. At the move Rogelio forgot himself and sprang forward with a snarl and curse to interpose, but recollected himself at once when Duero, dagger half-drawn, thrust an elbow beneath his chin and met his eyes with a scowl so malevolent that he caught breath with a sudden weakening of his knees. As theveedorretreated with a gasp Duero followed him steadily with his glare, then turned again with deliberation to the couch. Theveedorraised a shaking hand to his throat as if he expected to find it already cut, and quavered:—"My—my soul—and body, Duero! Thou'rt sudden! Wait! I—fiends and goblins!—I'll go if it will please thee.""It will," said Duero, briefly. "See that you do. We will tarry until your return. But first, a small cup ofchicha. We must warm her blood, or your woman will find a corpse. Do you hear,Veedor? A cup ofchicha!"Theveedorstarted painfully and waddled away. He was back in a moment with the liquor. The soldier forced a few drops between the pallid lips of the Ñusta, and vigorously chafed her hands and arms. A fierce, unprincipled rascal in most respects, he was endowed with a rough warmth of heart to which the helpless state of his captive made silent appeal. He worked with what gentleness was in him, and when at last Rava opened her pathetic eyes he motioned his companions out of the room with thehamaca. Rogelio lingered near, but a gesture from Duero and the menace in his eyes sent him back into the shadow, whispering a futile anathema. When the unhappy girl revived somewhat the soldier drew a robe over her, and leaving her sobbing desolately among the pillows, gripped Rogelio's arm and led him out. He locked the door, and to theveedor'sastonishment and rage, pocketed the key. The other commenced a shrill expostulation, but the burly Duero merely hunched a shoulder at him with chin thrust out and a sidelong glance of quiet viciousness that stopped his railing abruptly. Rogelio led the way to his room with no further word, followed by his four sullen hirelings.They ranged themselves round his table in silence. Theveedorstood glancing uneasily from one scowl to another, then piped in irritation: "Well, gentlemen, your task is finished, isn't it? Come now, my good friends, the hour groweth late. Return in the morning, and I'll give you your hire."Duero stepped forward, planting a powerful fist upon the table and hitching at his belt: "SeñorVeedor, we'll have our hire now! Then, when you have brought some one to look after the señorita, our business is done. In the meantime, with your leave—or without it—we wait here. She must be cared for before morning. But now, our gold."Rogelio blinked about the circle, snuffled, and went out. Having closed the door, his rage overflowed in a series of frenzied gesticulations in the direction of Duero, accompanied by suppressed grunts and squeaks, until he was swollen in feature and quite breathless. He returned with a bag and pair of balances. They looked on with vigilance while he weighed out the gold, the lamp illuminating swarthy faces full of eagerness—except that of Duero, which was only watchful and grim."There!" snapped the employer. "Two thousandcastellanos. Take it."Duero extended an arm to withhold the others and said, coolly, "Double it!"Theveedorstaggered back with the bag clasped in his arms. "Wha—what?" he gasped."I say, double it!" replied Duero, with force.Rogelio stared at him with fallen chin."Double it!" repeated the soldier, and returned the stare fixedly."Fiends!" shrieked theveedor. "Man, thou 'rt mad! What was our bargain?""That acquitteth the bargain, Señor, but there are damages.""Damages! What damages?""Why, to our several consciences,Veedor. Mine, I'll swear, hath stood a wear and tear that hath left not remnants enough to equip a dog! 'T is a most villanous piece of villany, and promiseth to grow worse when our hands are out of it. By the crucifix! Señor Rogelio, my soul will need masses for this affair, and I mean to provide for them. You will make it double, or the girl goeth to Xauxa this night; and I'll have the Señor Inca notified—or mayhap, Mendoza.""Scoundrels, bandits, thieves!" screamed Rogelio, his face purple and hands shaking. Duero took a step toward him with a movement to his sword-hilt, and the victim retreated to the wall, hugging his gold and rolling his eyes in terror. The soldier surveyed him with contempt."Well," he demanded, "what do you say? Must we lug her back to Xauxa? Answer, and quickly, for I sicken.""Oh, gentlemen!" wailed Rogelio, "be honest. Be just. Be considerate of a poor man."Duero broke in with imitation of his whine: "Oh, be open-handed. Be charitable. Be virtuous. Faugh! You offend my bile. Come. Yes, or no! Do you double it? 'T is indifferent to us, for the Inca, or Mendoza, will know how to reward. But answer!"Rogelio rolled his eyes to heaven, then lagged forward to the table and took up the scales. "Oh, my good men, 't is—""Cease!" commanded Duero. "We are no good men. Had we been, you had not approached us. Weigh out, and be done."Theveedorheaved a long, shuddering sigh, and weighed the gold."Now," said Duero, "to your horse, and to Xauxa.""Oh, curses!" protested theveedor. "Art not finished? I've paid thee twice!""Go!" shouted Duero, stamping his foot. "Order your horse. I'll see you to the gates."Rogelio went out with a groan. In half an hour he was riding down the hill, panting an imprecation at every step. Duero returned from the gate whither he had escorted him, and calling the servant, ordered the best theveedor'slarder afforded. Then the villains held carnival.CHAPTER XXIIIRogelio Finds Gall and WormwoodPedro was extinguishing the lights of hiscantinawhen he heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs. They stopped at his door, and Rogelio entered, perspiring, breathless, and in violent perturbation."Ho, SeñorVeedor, thou dost ride late!" exclaimed Pedro, in surprise. "There is something amiss?"Rogelio sank upon the nearest stool, panting and wiping away perspiration, on the verge of apoplexy from exertion and rage combined. The danger of it seemed to strike Pedro at once. He hurried forward and commenced fanning the official vigorously with his apron."Steady, steady, Señor!" he urged, soothingly. "Do not try to talk. Take time and spare thy wind. Thou 'rt gasping like a ducked hen.—Nay, nay! Do not swear. Be tranquil. Calm thyself. Count ten, Señor—now do! Believe me, naught doth so soothe a fit of ferment. But—swearing again! Gently, gently, or thou'lt melt in thine own heat! Gods, man! Cease rolling thine eyes. Hast a cramp under thy belt? Let me thump thy back.—Ah!"Pedro pummelled the agitatedveedorbetween the shoulders with hearty vigor, and succeeded thereby in expelling what little breath he had remaining, rendering him still more helpless from exasperation. He saved himself by bolting from his seat and backing against the wall, where he stood waving his arms in speechlessness to keep the zealous cook away."Name of a saint, my friend!" said Pedro, with great concern, after Rogelio began to breathe more freely, "I never saw an over-gorged pup nearer a fit than thou. What hath gone wrong?""She—hath arrived!" gasped theveedorat length."Oh! She hath arrived, hath she? Well, she must be a very tarantula to work thee a spell like that, Señor! By the gods, even Bolio's coming could not give me such a bedevilment of jerks and palpitations!"Theveedorwas rendered speechless again. Pedro eyed him with great commiseration until he showed signs of recovery, then threw him into another spasm by inquiring with solicitude,"Doth the lady pursue, Señor? If so, we will barricade the door."Rogelio held up his hands, violently shaking his head. "No, no!" he managed to say. "Damned—numskull! Let me—talk.""Why, talk, to be sure! 'T is what I've waited for,—to hear thee talk. What the devil dost think? that I've been standing here this while to see thee contort and strangle? I had liefer watch a pig in the colic. Proceed,Veedor, and talk. It may ease thy mind.Sensa animi tui libere profare—Latin, Señor, and it meaneth, speak freely. Prithee, begin. I listen."Theveedorhad collapsed into a chair, choking with rage. He sprang up, shaking both fists at the cook, and started toward the door; turned back, and waving his arms for silence, howled: "Accursed—rattle-teeth!—hear me!—I seek a servant!""Thou seekest a servant!" responded Pedro, with composure. "Well, by heaven, I could guess it! And thou needest, not one, but a dozen, I should say; and a strait-jacket withal. But,infierno! is the quest of a servant so delirious a pursuit?—Now, do be calm, Señor! Hold a minute, and I'll bleed thee. No? But 't would be wise, my friend, for if thou 'rt not on the edge of the staggers, then I never gave physic to a horse.—And now thou'rt swearing again! Fie,Veedor! Here! Let me get thee a wet rag."Pedro hurried away. When he returned theveedorhad regained his utterance, and waving aside the proffered application, he shouted:—"Keep off, thou babbling moon-calf! Wilt hear me? I need a servant—at once! A servant—dost hear? A servant—and may the fiend claw thy vitals! Canst get me one—to-night? I'll pay thee well.""Well, stew me! if the need of a servant wrought me to such a state of mind, I'd——" Pedro seated himself. "But 't is late,Veedor. Thy guest hath come, sayst thou?""Yes, yes! She is sick from weariness, and needeth a woman. Wilt find me one?"Pedro became serious at once. "Sick! Then 't is pressing. Let me think. There is Señora Bolio, for a possibility. She might consent to go, but she knoweth no Quichua. That, however, might be an advantage, not so? Less apt to connive at escape." Pedro eyed theveedorwatchfully."Yes!Diablo, yes!" said Rogelio, eagerly. "Canst persuade her?""I'll try," said Pedro, rising. He threw off his apron and started toward the door; halted, and came back, determined to test his suspicion. "Señor," he said, abruptly, "how did they get her away from Peralta? Did they kill him? If not, then I swear to thee,Veedor, thou 'rt as good as dead!" and Pedro slowly shook his head in direst portent.Theveedorwas unguarded. He started violently, and his face went ashy. "Oh, my soul and body! I—I forgot to ask them." He scanned the cook with quick suspicion. "How in the devil's name dost know?" he demanded. Pedro placed a finger beside his nose, wagged his head with deep significance, and went out. Now it was his turn to be agitated.He pegged straight to the señora's lodging, and pounded upon the door until it opened. "Quick!" he cried. "The Viracocha woman! There is sickness."The native made him repeat it, refastened the door, and left Pedro in a fume. When she opened again, it was with a request to follow, and led him across the court. The señora appeared at a door with an under-garment over her shoulders. "Is it thou, Pedro?" she asked, sleepily. "What is to do? This is an unholy hour to wake a body, dost not know it?"Pedro pushed the door open, and entered. "'T is a crying need," he said, and hastily explained."Who is this girl?" demanded the señora, with a pang of jealousy."Peralta's enamorada," replied the cook, thinking he lied, but venturing it to quiet her suspicion."And who this Rogelio?" asked the señora."A toad!" answered Pedro. "Wilt go? I will ride with thee to the fortress."The señora was retying the fagged end of her braid."A favor to me,carita," urged Pedro."I will go," said Señora Bolio."Then come to thecantinaas soon as thou 'rt clad. I will have thy mule," and he hastened away. By the time the animals were saddled the lady arrived, her battle-axe beneath her arm, wrapped in a bundle of apparel. Pedro strapped it to her saddle, and summoning the feveredveedor, assisted the señora to mount. As they rode out on the quiet road, Rogelio leading, the cook gave further history of the Ñusta, together with certain sidelights on theveedor. They reached the fortress, and having seen the two through the gate, Pedro returned, relieved for Rava, but sadly disturbed by thoughts of Cristoval.The señora followed her conductor to his door. As he dismounted a sound of revelry stole out upon the night, and theveedordashed in. The neglected lady sniffed after him scornfully, swung herself out of the saddle, unstrapped her belongings, led her mule into the patio, and followed theveedorto a half-open door. The unfortunate Rogelio was doomed to further bitterness. The room was lighted by all the lamps of the establishment. Duero and his companions were seated round a well-laden board, a bowl of steaming punch in the midst, and had arrived at the jovial stage. As Rogelio entered and stood blinking at the brilliancy, his fat chin wagging with renewed rage at their effrontery, they surveyed him a moment, and burst into a shout of laughter. Duero raised his cup."Hail, good host, liberal entertainer, most hospitable mate!" roared he. "Thou 'rt welcome. Enter! Come, leave diffidence outside. Thou 'rt not intruding—now is he,camaradas? No! Sit and make free. What is ours is thine—not so,camaradas?Segaramente!Hola!" He sprang to his feet as the señora appeared at the door. "Blessed angels of Heaven, what do I see? The Señora Bolio!" He advanced with a profound bow. "Welcome, Señora, most welcome! Upon my heart, 'tis like the sight of a nosegay from Old Castile! Ho,compañeros!—your courtesies toSeñora la Conquistadora!" He bowed again, answered by the lady with a glare of cold disdain."Miscreants, knaves, cutthroats!" shrieked Rogelio. "You shall pay dear for this night!"Duero surveyed him darkly, hunched his shoulder, and thrust out his chin, and theveedorsank into a chair. The soldier eyed him for a moment, and turned to the lady. "Señora, I surmise thou hast come to care for the girl. She needeth it, God knoweth, and the less time lost the better. Come. I have the key."Rogelio sprang up to follow, but once more the hunch of shoulder, the thrust of chin, and the scowling look askance, and he sat. Duero winked at the señora as he turned to lead the way, and ignoring her snort of resentment of the liberty, went out. She followed, and halting at the Ñusta's door, he said, as he unfastened, "Pedro hath told thee of this Rogelio?""Briefly, that he is a toad," responded the señora."Brief, but most precise! Pedro hath a good head. Now, Señora, I'll leave thee to enter, and the door unlocked. If thou hast need of aught, thou'lt find us entertaining theveedorfor an hour or more. I'll have him send a bowl of broth at once. Adiós."Duero rejoined the others, and they sat long making their host unhappy; then, having promised him with evident sincerity that if he whispered a complaint he would find himself some morning with a severed windpipe, they took their leave.Señora Bolio went to the couch. Rava had raised her head, but perceiving the invader was a woman, rose to her knees, her eyes streaming, and voice broken with sobs. With arms outstretched, she poured forth an impassioned supplication in words to the stranger unknown,—in words unknown, but with meaning clear, and an eloquence that went straight to the heart of the señora. For the señora had a heart. It beat somewhat wildly at times, and at times with vehement hostility toward the sex which had worked it countless wrongs; but like other hearts that flame, it had its gentler warmth. The appeal of the injured and helpless girl touched her womanliness, and she hastened to her side."Poor dearie!" she exclaimed, seating herself and drawing the sobbing prisoner to her breast. "Poor little waif! Have they been cruel, these men? Ah, may the devil roast them well! Do not weep, love. Do not weep, chiquita. They shall not harm thee more. Let theveedorbeware. Let him come to trouble thee, and we'll unjoint him—will we not, little one? We'll put a twist in his neck, thou and I, that will let him look at his shoulderblades to his heart's content—will we not, my dove? Ah! That we'll do, and more, if he but roll his eyes aslant at thee!"With soft voice and motherly caress, the señora soothed the heart-broken Rava; her words—perhaps quite as well—without meaning to the girl, but her tones replete with sympathy. Rava clung to her as to a last hope, becoming gradually more calm, until a knock at the door stirred her terror afresh. Releasing her, the señora sprang up. Grimly she stripped her battle-axe, and stepped to the door. The servant recoiled."Ah, 'tis thou!" the lady exclaimed, and received the broth.The strength it gave aided her efforts to restore calm to the despairing captive, and in an hour Rava slept. Her guardian sat long, nursing a waxing enmity for the authors of the maiden's sorrows, and for Rogelio in particular; then, having with fell purpose placed her weapon conveniently at hand, she lay down beside herprotégée.She awoke early, astonished to find Rava kneeling with hands clasped in prayer, a silver crucifix before her on her pillow, the Latin periods, in her quaint, hesitating accents, sounding strangely. The señora joined her orison, then turned to her in surprise."A Christian, thou?" she asked, taking her hand.Rava understood the word, and assented eagerly. "Cristoval!" she said, and touched the crucifix, her eyes filling at the name."Ah! Peralta! The stout freebooter with the good voice. I know him," and the señora nodded emphatically. "Art baptized, child?"This word was familiar also, and Rava nodded her head; then said eagerly: "Father Tendilla! Father Tendilla!""Father Tendilla!" exclaimed Señora Bolio. "Thou knowest him? Blessed thought!—we'll send a word to Father Tendilla. Aha, Rogelio, sniffling obesity, we shall see! We'll choke thee with thine own unholy purpose, or I'm not Bolio. Rogelio, indeed! If, now, Pedro will but come!" She patted Rava's arm reassuringly and arose.Meanwhile theveedor, with eyes puffed and bloodshot from a night of scanty sleep and much exacerbation, was breakfasting. At intervals he paused, laid down his knife, and sat rubbing his hands in pleasing meditation while he chewed. Then his complacent smile would fade, and he would cease both to rub his hands and to chew while he irefully reviewed the night's indignities. "Caitiffs! Perfidious scoundrels! Vipers! Only wait! Rogelio hath not done. If he live not to see the garrote at every one of your rascally throats, then 't is because he shall be short-lived. Wait, my over-cheerful bullies: we'll have another settling of this account, and 't is Rogelio will split his sides! But, oh, my stars, what a cost! Four thousand—oh, calamities!" Then, as the matter slowly revolved in his mind and the other aspect came uppermost, he would begin to chew again with a returning smirk of satisfaction. "But what a prize! Eh, Rogelio, what a prize! And safely housed—in the cage, as Duero put it!—accursed knave! serpent! Four—oh, my soul and body!—But, oho! Mendoza, thou uncouth ruffian, how now? Rogelio hath overmatched thee, despite thy rant and swagger. He, he! The fox and the bull—the fox and the bull! Ah, but thou 'rt a rogue, Rogelio! a sad rogue and sly! And thou'lt be reimbursed the four thousand—oh, my life, yes! Her jewels ought to do that. Did she wear jewels last night? Murder! I did not think to look. But 't is like Duero looked out for that—or that prison-bird, Peralta." Rogelio's countenance fell. Presently it brightened. "But we have her, and now it is to be seen how she will receive thee, Rogelio—her daring captor! Doubtless with charming terrors and maidenly trembling. Oh, these delightful women! Shy, timid, alluring! Bless their souls—if they have souls. He, he!"He sat awhile blinking and chuckling at the remains of his meal; snuffled, arose, and went to make a toilet which he purposed should reconcile his captive. A zestful, engaging occupation, this decking for the admiration of a fair one; and most agreeable if one can, like Rogelio, achieve it with the flattering self-assurance that it cannot fail. Nevertheless, it was not without some rasping of temper, and more than once in the process Rogelio stamped and swore with squeaky emphasis. But at length, after a final glance at his mirror and a dubious fingering of his double chin and hanging jowls, he quit his room, creditably attired, considering all the circumstances. To be sure, his hose were mended in places, his doublet seedy in the strong light, and his ruff far from crisp and snowy; but these defects were offset by a profusion of rings, and a redolence of musk sufficiently overpowering to divert attention.Señora Bolio answered his rap, and opening the door a little way, replied to his salutation with a brief nod, and stood surveying him from head to foot and back again from foot to head with disfavor as disconcerting as it was manifest. Indisputably, the señora's aspect was unfriendly.Theveedorhesitated. "Is—ah—is the señorita within?"The señora paused for another survey before she replied with asperity: "Is the señorita within! Of a surety the señorita is within. Prithee, where is she like to be—out chasing butterflies?"Rogelio looked at her in blank surprise; then, with a feeble effort at a smile: "I would have a few words with her, Señora,—and alone! Pray, open the door."The señora made no move to open the door, but replied tartly: "The señorita hath no words to spare and no ear for listening. She is wearied."Theveedorreddened slowly as astonishment turned to anger. "What—what, woman! Dost think to offer me hindrance in mine own house? Stand aside, then gather thy belongings. Thou 'rt dismissed, dost hear? dismissed!" He stepped forward.For reply the lady thrust out her arm and in close proximity to his nose, snapped her fingers. Theveedorgasped. His nerves were already unstrung, and his indignation set him a-quiver as if he had been some huge, fancifully-moulded jelly."Why—name of a—thou—my soul and body! What meanest thou, beldame? inconceivable termagant!"Alas! Rogelio. That was unfortunate, ill-considered, rash. As if thou wert not enough distraught!—and now to invite the overflow of this brimming vessel of wrath! Before he could draw a second breath she was outside, arms akimbo, her face thrust so close into his that her features for a moment were a blur to his startled eyes. Then she unrolled the infinite scroll of her diatribe,—a withering flow of invectives garnered in years of rude experience; a schedule of strange metaphors, born of inspiration and chasing in so rapid sequence that his bewildered ears no sooner received the shock of one than another followed, twice more shocking; a torrent of hyperboles so weird in their personal application that his ideas staggered in a vague, wondering effort to comprehend, then floundered helpless in the stream; and each member of her discourse emphasized by a jab at his nose with thumb and finger that forced him back, step by step, across the court. The first flush of rage vanished from his countenance and left an expression of surprised impotency, his jaw working in a futile effort to articulate, until, turning with uplifted hands, he fled.As his door slammed, the breathless señora became conscious of another man. A man at the moment was as a flaunt in the face of a maddened bull, and she turned upon him. It was Pedro. He had watched the episode from its beginning to its close. Now he was bowing low, cap in hand."Señora Bolio," he said, with great unction, "my admiration! My admiration, my homage, my reverence! My veneration, my stupefaction, my awe! My——""Oh, drat thy gibberings!" interrupted the señora, with irritation. "Be done with thy bobbing, and come hither. Thou 'rt the very man I wished to see.""Heaven forfend!" murmured Pedro. "Hast yet more wind?"She eyed him sternly, then her features gradually relaxed. "Not for thee, my chicken pie. But hearken, Pedro. I have news. This girl—dost know it?—is a Christian."Pedro stared. "No!" he exclaimed. "And 't is the Ñusta Rava?""'T is she, and she a Christian, Pedro, as I live! And she calleth for Father Tendilla.""For Father Tendilla! Then stew me, she shall have him! I'll fetch him.""Fetch him, Pedro. Go at once." And taking him by the shoulder, the señora turned him toward the entrance of the court. "Make haste, and,Adiós."Pedro went a few paces, and halted; reflected a moment, and returned. As the señora looked back he nodded toward Rogelio's dcor, and approaching it, rapped vigorously. There was silence, and he pounded again."Be off!" came a piping voice, not entirely steady.Pedro pushed open the door, and heard a scurrying within. "Be off, woman! I'm armed. Enter at thy peril!" trebled the voice. Pedro thrust in his head. Theveedorwas intrenched behind his table, bathed in perspiration."Oh, thy pardon,Veedor! I thought thou didst bid me enter," said Pedro, and closed the door with a grin."Hold, good Pedro! Wait! Tarry a moment, I pray thee, my dear friend," called theveedor, but Pedro was gone. As he left the court the door opened, and Rogelio protruded his head, calling again; espied the señora across the court, and retired abruptly.
CHAPTER XXII
Rava in the Toils
Next morning early Pedro's mule, held by Pedrillo, stood at his door, surrounded by a whispering, awe-stricken group of native urchins lingering to see the dread beast mounted by the Viracocha of the fabulous leg. As Pedro appeared the brute twitched an ear toward him, opened his mouth, and drew breath in a faint, rasping, wheezy note of salutation. Pedro was gloomy, but he paused to rub the gray nose.
"Ah, my good friend," he said, with feeling, "there is melancholy in thine accent—belike, the echo of a melancholy in thy soul, like that in mine. 'T is but a sorry life: we're agreed in that, and comrades in misery. Thou, a mule, a cook's mule; I, a cook, a one-legged cook; and a panting, surcharged, vociferous Bolio at our heels, following with the pertinacy of doom! But if thou, too, hast doleful thoughts, forbear to voice them, lest I be brought to tears. Now, prithee, lend me thy back.Adiós, Pedrillo. Remember thefrijoles. Burn them again, scamp, and I'll—Whoa, mule! Thou misbegotten whimsy, I thought I read sadness in thine eye,—and 't was the devil. Be done, or I'll chew thine ear! Farewell, Pedrillo."
Pedro was off. Half-an-hour's ride took him through the suburbs, and he turned into the military road toward the grim fortress overlooking the town. A short, steep climb, and he was at the gate, bantered by the guard about the coming of Señora Bolio. Within was a citadel, surrounded by buildings for the garrison, or the townspeople when driven by war, and quarters for the Inca's officers. As Pedro was passing he was hailed by the familiar pipe of Rogelio. He drew rein, not in the best of grace, awaiting theveedor'sapproach.
"Ah, Pedro, my good friend," said Rogelio, "I am pleased to see thee. I had thee in mind, 't is but a moment since. I——"
"Ware the heels of the mule!" bellowed Pedro, with a violence that startled theveedorinto sudden agility in a backward spring.
"My soul and body!" exclaimed Rogelio, rolling his eyes from the beast to its rider. "No need to roar, my friend. Thine animal looketh gentle enough."
"He hideth an abundance of wickedness under a smooth exterior—like some of his brethren who go on two legs," remarked Pedro.
"Ah?" Rogelio eyed the cook suspiciously.
"Ah!" returned Pedro. "But, hadst aught to say, SeñorVeedor?"
"Why, I have, good Pedro," said Rogelio, recovering. "In a few days—perhaps a fortnight, perhaps very soon—I expect—that is to say, I—he, he, Pedro!—'tis a delicate subject—but—well, I may need a woman servant. Just a common servant, Pedro."
"Ah!" said the cook. "Just a common servant! So! 'T is a common need,Veedor, shared by common and uncommon. I thank thee for thy confidence, Señor. I'll betray it to no man." And apparently considering the interview closed, Pedro gathered his reins to go.
"Wait!" shouted theveedor. "Blockhead, that is not all!"
"Not all, Señor! Thou hast need of two?"
Theveedorpiped a curse, then controlled himself and went on with a smile of forced amiability. "I mean it is not all I have to say, Pedro. In a few days—or less—I hope to share thy happiness."
"My happiness!" exclaimed Pedro, mystified. "Oh, I see! The Señor is going to turn cook."
"Damnation!" squeaked theveedor; then stifling his rage, he continued: "No, no! Not that. By thy happiness I mean thineinamorada, the Señora Bolio——"
"Oh, blessed saints!" interrupted Pedro. "Thou wouldst share my happiness in the Señora? Take it all, Señor! Take the whole of her. By heaven, I'll send her up entire! Wait but an hour." He started to turn his mule.
"Stop, fool!" choked the exasperatedveedor; and grasping at a rein, narrowly escaped a kick. He sprang out of range with a gasp.
"Well," said Pedro, complacently, "I gave thee warning, Señor. But hast more to say?"
It was a minute before Rogelio regained his speech. "Yes!" he shrilled. "Perdition! Yes! If thou wilt but hold thy tongue!"
"Bueno! I listen. Proceed, SeñorVeedor."
Rogelio drew near again and said, with difficulty, forcing a grin: "Now, in the devil's name, give heed; and forbear to fly off the bowstring until I have finished! What I've tried to get into thy pate is this. In a few days I shall have a guest, Pedro." He looked cautiously about and whispered, "A maiden, my friend—the fairest heathen in the land. I'll not say her name—he, he!—that shall be a secret. But, I would have a woman servant—one worthy of dependence, dost mark? Canst find me one? Thou 'rt known to the townsfolk, and I am not. What sayst? There will be some moderate compensation for thy time and trouble, Pedro,—moderate, mind thee, for I am a poor man; though," he looked about again, "I'll tell thee this, once I have her safe, there will be treasure untold at my command—Ah! Hum!—That is, Pedro, a fair sum—rather small, in fact—little more than enough for my requirements, for I have a fam——" He stopped short, snuffled, and went on hastily, "I'll pay thee, Pedro. Wilt find me a servant?"
Pedro concealed both his contempt and his suddenly roused interest, and after brief scrutiny of the tallowy face and protuberant eyes, looked away. "Why," he drawled, "for the time it hath taken thee to get it out, 't is a simple matter. Doubtless I can find a woman. I'll look about."
"Do so, my worthy friend," said Rogelio, rubbing his hands. "It will be worth thy while."
"No doubt," answered Pedro. "Adiós, Señor." He rode away.
"Dolt, lunk-head, clod-pate!" muttered Rogelio, looking viciously after him.
"Oily scoundrel!" muttered Pedro. "Slimy dastard." Then he chuckled. "Oh, give me but an hour, and I could work him into a fit! His rage striketh at his vitals. But, let us see! A maiden, the fairest in the land, and treasure untold! God's love! Can it be she?" He reined up, the better to think, and sat in study, his geniality of countenance giving place to grave concern. Shortly he rode on, still pondering.
Pedro's mission to the fortress was to see the sick armorer and warn him against Fray Mauricio, with the advice that José go straightway to Cuzco, where Pizarro would hold him safe. The Morisco was so ill, however, that he said nothing of his errand, and after an hour at the bedside, took his departure.
Pedro rode back much occupied with uneasy thoughts of Cristoval and Rava. He had heard nothing of their fate, and it was generally believed that they had perished in the mountains. After De Valera had been found in the canyon by his companions even the Cañares had lost the scent. Still Pedro hoped, and better, prayed with right good-will. Now he determined to watch for Rogelio's expected guest, his suspicion thoroughly roused by the morning's conversation.
Two days later he was again riding toward the fortress. On this occasion, however, he went beyond, making inquiries for thehuasiof one Municancha, master-mason. Rewarded at length, he was received with distinction by the dignified Indio and his interesting family, to whom he made himself so agreeable that he was pressed to come again, the small children chasing the dust of his mule for many yards, with shrill farewell and reiterated invitation.
Pedro rode back in an enviable frame of mind. It was dark when he passed the road to the fortress, and he had gone a little beyond when his mule stopped with a suddenness that sent his hand smartly to his sword-hilt. He distinguished a shadowy group of figures ahead, and hearing a word in Spanish, he prodded his animal with his single spur and rode forward. The strangers had drawn off to let him pass. As he neared them Pedro hailed:—
"Hob,compadres! A good-night to you."
"Oh, 't is Pedro!" he heard one say in relief, then the ring of ordered pikes, and, "Good-night, Pedro!" briefly.
"What cheer, friends?" asked the cook, drawing rein; but they moved on without response. He grunted at their discourtesy and went his way, failing to observe in the darkness that two of the number bore ahamaca.
The party halted near the fortress gate. Duero was challenged by the sentinel, seating himself wearily while the soldier drawled his call for the sergeant. The officer appeared, a parley followed, and the gate swung open.
"Well, and what fortune,amigo?" asked the old sergeant, surveying Duero as he stood scowling in the lantern light. "Why, man, thou'rt haggard!"
The other replied with an oath: "Not the worst fortune, but so near the worst that, curse me, 't would be no easy choice between them. Dost pass my party?"
"Pass them," said the sergeant, and Duero called to his companions; then, not wishing to be interrogated, gave the officer good-night. The sergeant watched thehamacapast the gate, and with a grimace to his sentinel, retired to the guard-room. Since the death of Atahualpa he had seen the like more than once.
Inside the gate Duero dismissed his remnant of the Cañares. Taking up the silent and closely curtainedhamaca, the Spaniards were presently pounding at theveedor'sdoor. An Indio servant opened to them, and the litter was carried into the court. Apprised of its arrival, Rogelio hurried out.
Duero ignored his greeting and demanded bluntly: "Where is the cage, SeñorVeedor? Here is the bird."
"Oh, my stars!" snuffled Rogelio, rubbing his hands and sidling round thehamaca. "Is she there, indeed?—and in good condition, Duero? Remember, that was part of the stipulation—that she should be unharmed, and in good condition."
"As to being unharmed, I'll answer for it," replied the soldier. "As for her condition, you can figure for yourself what it is like to be after such a journey. Where will you have her put? Come! We're weary."
"This way," said Rogelio, in a fluster. "The room is all prepared—a bower, Duero, a very bower! He, he! Wait! I'll fetch a lamp." He scuttled away, reappeared with a light, and led the way to a door opening upon the patio. It was fastened with a heavy padlock. Fumbling for a second, he threw open the door. Thehamacawas carried in, the door closed, and while Rogelio edged round eagerly with the lamp, striving for a glimpse, Duero threw back the curtains and lifted Rava, almost lifeless, from the litter. She moaned as he bore her to the couch, and he hastened to remove the bonds and gag she had worn since nearing Xauxa. She gave no other evidence of animation.
"Here—the light!" commanded Duero, gruffly, and took it without ceremony from theveedor'shand, bending over the girl in scrutiny. Rogelio hovered about, twisting his fat fingers, and straining to have a look at the pale, drawn face almost hidden by her disordered tresses. It was a face to move the compassion of a savage. The rough soldier felt its pathos, for he straightened up and said brusquely:—
"She needeth looking after, 't is a certainty. Fetch a woman at once, SeñorVeedor."
"A woman!" piped Rogelio. "Why, there's no woman about. I have spoken for one, and may have her to-morrow."
"No woman about!" exclaimed Duero, turning upon him sternly. "Do you say there is none to give this girl the care she needeth?"
"To-morrow—" began theveedorweakly.
"To-morrow!—To-night! This night,Veedor, or she goeth to Xauxa." Duero's black eyes travelled over Rogelio with an expression the latter did not care to meet.
"To-night! Impossible, Duero!" he whined. "There is not a woman in the fortress save two just come from San Miguel, and they—" He shook his head.
"Then, Señor, you will fetch one from Xauxa," said Duero, with determination.
"Curse me if I will!" retorted theveedor, angrily. "And look thou, Duero: this is mine affair. Thy part in it is done. Thou'lt refrain from meddling."
Duero motioned his companions forward, and stepped to raise the Ñusta. At the move Rogelio forgot himself and sprang forward with a snarl and curse to interpose, but recollected himself at once when Duero, dagger half-drawn, thrust an elbow beneath his chin and met his eyes with a scowl so malevolent that he caught breath with a sudden weakening of his knees. As theveedorretreated with a gasp Duero followed him steadily with his glare, then turned again with deliberation to the couch. Theveedorraised a shaking hand to his throat as if he expected to find it already cut, and quavered:—
"My—my soul—and body, Duero! Thou'rt sudden! Wait! I—fiends and goblins!—I'll go if it will please thee."
"It will," said Duero, briefly. "See that you do. We will tarry until your return. But first, a small cup ofchicha. We must warm her blood, or your woman will find a corpse. Do you hear,Veedor? A cup ofchicha!"
Theveedorstarted painfully and waddled away. He was back in a moment with the liquor. The soldier forced a few drops between the pallid lips of the Ñusta, and vigorously chafed her hands and arms. A fierce, unprincipled rascal in most respects, he was endowed with a rough warmth of heart to which the helpless state of his captive made silent appeal. He worked with what gentleness was in him, and when at last Rava opened her pathetic eyes he motioned his companions out of the room with thehamaca. Rogelio lingered near, but a gesture from Duero and the menace in his eyes sent him back into the shadow, whispering a futile anathema. When the unhappy girl revived somewhat the soldier drew a robe over her, and leaving her sobbing desolately among the pillows, gripped Rogelio's arm and led him out. He locked the door, and to theveedor'sastonishment and rage, pocketed the key. The other commenced a shrill expostulation, but the burly Duero merely hunched a shoulder at him with chin thrust out and a sidelong glance of quiet viciousness that stopped his railing abruptly. Rogelio led the way to his room with no further word, followed by his four sullen hirelings.
They ranged themselves round his table in silence. Theveedorstood glancing uneasily from one scowl to another, then piped in irritation: "Well, gentlemen, your task is finished, isn't it? Come now, my good friends, the hour groweth late. Return in the morning, and I'll give you your hire."
Duero stepped forward, planting a powerful fist upon the table and hitching at his belt: "SeñorVeedor, we'll have our hire now! Then, when you have brought some one to look after the señorita, our business is done. In the meantime, with your leave—or without it—we wait here. She must be cared for before morning. But now, our gold."
Rogelio blinked about the circle, snuffled, and went out. Having closed the door, his rage overflowed in a series of frenzied gesticulations in the direction of Duero, accompanied by suppressed grunts and squeaks, until he was swollen in feature and quite breathless. He returned with a bag and pair of balances. They looked on with vigilance while he weighed out the gold, the lamp illuminating swarthy faces full of eagerness—except that of Duero, which was only watchful and grim.
"There!" snapped the employer. "Two thousandcastellanos. Take it."
Duero extended an arm to withhold the others and said, coolly, "Double it!"
Theveedorstaggered back with the bag clasped in his arms. "Wha—what?" he gasped.
"I say, double it!" replied Duero, with force.
Rogelio stared at him with fallen chin.
"Double it!" repeated the soldier, and returned the stare fixedly.
"Fiends!" shrieked theveedor. "Man, thou 'rt mad! What was our bargain?"
"That acquitteth the bargain, Señor, but there are damages."
"Damages! What damages?"
"Why, to our several consciences,Veedor. Mine, I'll swear, hath stood a wear and tear that hath left not remnants enough to equip a dog! 'T is a most villanous piece of villany, and promiseth to grow worse when our hands are out of it. By the crucifix! Señor Rogelio, my soul will need masses for this affair, and I mean to provide for them. You will make it double, or the girl goeth to Xauxa this night; and I'll have the Señor Inca notified—or mayhap, Mendoza."
"Scoundrels, bandits, thieves!" screamed Rogelio, his face purple and hands shaking. Duero took a step toward him with a movement to his sword-hilt, and the victim retreated to the wall, hugging his gold and rolling his eyes in terror. The soldier surveyed him with contempt.
"Well," he demanded, "what do you say? Must we lug her back to Xauxa? Answer, and quickly, for I sicken."
"Oh, gentlemen!" wailed Rogelio, "be honest. Be just. Be considerate of a poor man."
Duero broke in with imitation of his whine: "Oh, be open-handed. Be charitable. Be virtuous. Faugh! You offend my bile. Come. Yes, or no! Do you double it? 'T is indifferent to us, for the Inca, or Mendoza, will know how to reward. But answer!"
Rogelio rolled his eyes to heaven, then lagged forward to the table and took up the scales. "Oh, my good men, 't is—"
"Cease!" commanded Duero. "We are no good men. Had we been, you had not approached us. Weigh out, and be done."
Theveedorheaved a long, shuddering sigh, and weighed the gold.
"Now," said Duero, "to your horse, and to Xauxa."
"Oh, curses!" protested theveedor. "Art not finished? I've paid thee twice!"
"Go!" shouted Duero, stamping his foot. "Order your horse. I'll see you to the gates."
Rogelio went out with a groan. In half an hour he was riding down the hill, panting an imprecation at every step. Duero returned from the gate whither he had escorted him, and calling the servant, ordered the best theveedor'slarder afforded. Then the villains held carnival.
CHAPTER XXIII
Rogelio Finds Gall and Wormwood
Pedro was extinguishing the lights of hiscantinawhen he heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs. They stopped at his door, and Rogelio entered, perspiring, breathless, and in violent perturbation.
"Ho, SeñorVeedor, thou dost ride late!" exclaimed Pedro, in surprise. "There is something amiss?"
Rogelio sank upon the nearest stool, panting and wiping away perspiration, on the verge of apoplexy from exertion and rage combined. The danger of it seemed to strike Pedro at once. He hurried forward and commenced fanning the official vigorously with his apron.
"Steady, steady, Señor!" he urged, soothingly. "Do not try to talk. Take time and spare thy wind. Thou 'rt gasping like a ducked hen.—Nay, nay! Do not swear. Be tranquil. Calm thyself. Count ten, Señor—now do! Believe me, naught doth so soothe a fit of ferment. But—swearing again! Gently, gently, or thou'lt melt in thine own heat! Gods, man! Cease rolling thine eyes. Hast a cramp under thy belt? Let me thump thy back.—Ah!"
Pedro pummelled the agitatedveedorbetween the shoulders with hearty vigor, and succeeded thereby in expelling what little breath he had remaining, rendering him still more helpless from exasperation. He saved himself by bolting from his seat and backing against the wall, where he stood waving his arms in speechlessness to keep the zealous cook away.
"Name of a saint, my friend!" said Pedro, with great concern, after Rogelio began to breathe more freely, "I never saw an over-gorged pup nearer a fit than thou. What hath gone wrong?"
"She—hath arrived!" gasped theveedorat length.
"Oh! She hath arrived, hath she? Well, she must be a very tarantula to work thee a spell like that, Señor! By the gods, even Bolio's coming could not give me such a bedevilment of jerks and palpitations!"
Theveedorwas rendered speechless again. Pedro eyed him with great commiseration until he showed signs of recovery, then threw him into another spasm by inquiring with solicitude,
"Doth the lady pursue, Señor? If so, we will barricade the door."
Rogelio held up his hands, violently shaking his head. "No, no!" he managed to say. "Damned—numskull! Let me—talk."
"Why, talk, to be sure! 'T is what I've waited for,—to hear thee talk. What the devil dost think? that I've been standing here this while to see thee contort and strangle? I had liefer watch a pig in the colic. Proceed,Veedor, and talk. It may ease thy mind.Sensa animi tui libere profare—Latin, Señor, and it meaneth, speak freely. Prithee, begin. I listen."
Theveedorhad collapsed into a chair, choking with rage. He sprang up, shaking both fists at the cook, and started toward the door; turned back, and waving his arms for silence, howled: "Accursed—rattle-teeth!—hear me!—I seek a servant!"
"Thou seekest a servant!" responded Pedro, with composure. "Well, by heaven, I could guess it! And thou needest, not one, but a dozen, I should say; and a strait-jacket withal. But,infierno! is the quest of a servant so delirious a pursuit?—Now, do be calm, Señor! Hold a minute, and I'll bleed thee. No? But 't would be wise, my friend, for if thou 'rt not on the edge of the staggers, then I never gave physic to a horse.—And now thou'rt swearing again! Fie,Veedor! Here! Let me get thee a wet rag."
Pedro hurried away. When he returned theveedorhad regained his utterance, and waving aside the proffered application, he shouted:—
"Keep off, thou babbling moon-calf! Wilt hear me? I need a servant—at once! A servant—dost hear? A servant—and may the fiend claw thy vitals! Canst get me one—to-night? I'll pay thee well."
"Well, stew me! if the need of a servant wrought me to such a state of mind, I'd——" Pedro seated himself. "But 't is late,Veedor. Thy guest hath come, sayst thou?"
"Yes, yes! She is sick from weariness, and needeth a woman. Wilt find me one?"
Pedro became serious at once. "Sick! Then 't is pressing. Let me think. There is Señora Bolio, for a possibility. She might consent to go, but she knoweth no Quichua. That, however, might be an advantage, not so? Less apt to connive at escape." Pedro eyed theveedorwatchfully.
"Yes!Diablo, yes!" said Rogelio, eagerly. "Canst persuade her?"
"I'll try," said Pedro, rising. He threw off his apron and started toward the door; halted, and came back, determined to test his suspicion. "Señor," he said, abruptly, "how did they get her away from Peralta? Did they kill him? If not, then I swear to thee,Veedor, thou 'rt as good as dead!" and Pedro slowly shook his head in direst portent.
Theveedorwas unguarded. He started violently, and his face went ashy. "Oh, my soul and body! I—I forgot to ask them." He scanned the cook with quick suspicion. "How in the devil's name dost know?" he demanded. Pedro placed a finger beside his nose, wagged his head with deep significance, and went out. Now it was his turn to be agitated.
He pegged straight to the señora's lodging, and pounded upon the door until it opened. "Quick!" he cried. "The Viracocha woman! There is sickness."
The native made him repeat it, refastened the door, and left Pedro in a fume. When she opened again, it was with a request to follow, and led him across the court. The señora appeared at a door with an under-garment over her shoulders. "Is it thou, Pedro?" she asked, sleepily. "What is to do? This is an unholy hour to wake a body, dost not know it?"
Pedro pushed the door open, and entered. "'T is a crying need," he said, and hastily explained.
"Who is this girl?" demanded the señora, with a pang of jealousy.
"Peralta's enamorada," replied the cook, thinking he lied, but venturing it to quiet her suspicion.
"And who this Rogelio?" asked the señora.
"A toad!" answered Pedro. "Wilt go? I will ride with thee to the fortress."
The señora was retying the fagged end of her braid.
"A favor to me,carita," urged Pedro.
"I will go," said Señora Bolio.
"Then come to thecantinaas soon as thou 'rt clad. I will have thy mule," and he hastened away. By the time the animals were saddled the lady arrived, her battle-axe beneath her arm, wrapped in a bundle of apparel. Pedro strapped it to her saddle, and summoning the feveredveedor, assisted the señora to mount. As they rode out on the quiet road, Rogelio leading, the cook gave further history of the Ñusta, together with certain sidelights on theveedor. They reached the fortress, and having seen the two through the gate, Pedro returned, relieved for Rava, but sadly disturbed by thoughts of Cristoval.
The señora followed her conductor to his door. As he dismounted a sound of revelry stole out upon the night, and theveedordashed in. The neglected lady sniffed after him scornfully, swung herself out of the saddle, unstrapped her belongings, led her mule into the patio, and followed theveedorto a half-open door. The unfortunate Rogelio was doomed to further bitterness. The room was lighted by all the lamps of the establishment. Duero and his companions were seated round a well-laden board, a bowl of steaming punch in the midst, and had arrived at the jovial stage. As Rogelio entered and stood blinking at the brilliancy, his fat chin wagging with renewed rage at their effrontery, they surveyed him a moment, and burst into a shout of laughter. Duero raised his cup.
"Hail, good host, liberal entertainer, most hospitable mate!" roared he. "Thou 'rt welcome. Enter! Come, leave diffidence outside. Thou 'rt not intruding—now is he,camaradas? No! Sit and make free. What is ours is thine—not so,camaradas?Segaramente!Hola!" He sprang to his feet as the señora appeared at the door. "Blessed angels of Heaven, what do I see? The Señora Bolio!" He advanced with a profound bow. "Welcome, Señora, most welcome! Upon my heart, 'tis like the sight of a nosegay from Old Castile! Ho,compañeros!—your courtesies toSeñora la Conquistadora!" He bowed again, answered by the lady with a glare of cold disdain.
"Miscreants, knaves, cutthroats!" shrieked Rogelio. "You shall pay dear for this night!"
Duero surveyed him darkly, hunched his shoulder, and thrust out his chin, and theveedorsank into a chair. The soldier eyed him for a moment, and turned to the lady. "Señora, I surmise thou hast come to care for the girl. She needeth it, God knoweth, and the less time lost the better. Come. I have the key."
Rogelio sprang up to follow, but once more the hunch of shoulder, the thrust of chin, and the scowling look askance, and he sat. Duero winked at the señora as he turned to lead the way, and ignoring her snort of resentment of the liberty, went out. She followed, and halting at the Ñusta's door, he said, as he unfastened, "Pedro hath told thee of this Rogelio?"
"Briefly, that he is a toad," responded the señora.
"Brief, but most precise! Pedro hath a good head. Now, Señora, I'll leave thee to enter, and the door unlocked. If thou hast need of aught, thou'lt find us entertaining theveedorfor an hour or more. I'll have him send a bowl of broth at once. Adiós."
Duero rejoined the others, and they sat long making their host unhappy; then, having promised him with evident sincerity that if he whispered a complaint he would find himself some morning with a severed windpipe, they took their leave.
Señora Bolio went to the couch. Rava had raised her head, but perceiving the invader was a woman, rose to her knees, her eyes streaming, and voice broken with sobs. With arms outstretched, she poured forth an impassioned supplication in words to the stranger unknown,—in words unknown, but with meaning clear, and an eloquence that went straight to the heart of the señora. For the señora had a heart. It beat somewhat wildly at times, and at times with vehement hostility toward the sex which had worked it countless wrongs; but like other hearts that flame, it had its gentler warmth. The appeal of the injured and helpless girl touched her womanliness, and she hastened to her side.
"Poor dearie!" she exclaimed, seating herself and drawing the sobbing prisoner to her breast. "Poor little waif! Have they been cruel, these men? Ah, may the devil roast them well! Do not weep, love. Do not weep, chiquita. They shall not harm thee more. Let theveedorbeware. Let him come to trouble thee, and we'll unjoint him—will we not, little one? We'll put a twist in his neck, thou and I, that will let him look at his shoulderblades to his heart's content—will we not, my dove? Ah! That we'll do, and more, if he but roll his eyes aslant at thee!"
With soft voice and motherly caress, the señora soothed the heart-broken Rava; her words—perhaps quite as well—without meaning to the girl, but her tones replete with sympathy. Rava clung to her as to a last hope, becoming gradually more calm, until a knock at the door stirred her terror afresh. Releasing her, the señora sprang up. Grimly she stripped her battle-axe, and stepped to the door. The servant recoiled.
"Ah, 'tis thou!" the lady exclaimed, and received the broth.
The strength it gave aided her efforts to restore calm to the despairing captive, and in an hour Rava slept. Her guardian sat long, nursing a waxing enmity for the authors of the maiden's sorrows, and for Rogelio in particular; then, having with fell purpose placed her weapon conveniently at hand, she lay down beside herprotégée.
She awoke early, astonished to find Rava kneeling with hands clasped in prayer, a silver crucifix before her on her pillow, the Latin periods, in her quaint, hesitating accents, sounding strangely. The señora joined her orison, then turned to her in surprise.
"A Christian, thou?" she asked, taking her hand.
Rava understood the word, and assented eagerly. "Cristoval!" she said, and touched the crucifix, her eyes filling at the name.
"Ah! Peralta! The stout freebooter with the good voice. I know him," and the señora nodded emphatically. "Art baptized, child?"
This word was familiar also, and Rava nodded her head; then said eagerly: "Father Tendilla! Father Tendilla!"
"Father Tendilla!" exclaimed Señora Bolio. "Thou knowest him? Blessed thought!—we'll send a word to Father Tendilla. Aha, Rogelio, sniffling obesity, we shall see! We'll choke thee with thine own unholy purpose, or I'm not Bolio. Rogelio, indeed! If, now, Pedro will but come!" She patted Rava's arm reassuringly and arose.
Meanwhile theveedor, with eyes puffed and bloodshot from a night of scanty sleep and much exacerbation, was breakfasting. At intervals he paused, laid down his knife, and sat rubbing his hands in pleasing meditation while he chewed. Then his complacent smile would fade, and he would cease both to rub his hands and to chew while he irefully reviewed the night's indignities. "Caitiffs! Perfidious scoundrels! Vipers! Only wait! Rogelio hath not done. If he live not to see the garrote at every one of your rascally throats, then 't is because he shall be short-lived. Wait, my over-cheerful bullies: we'll have another settling of this account, and 't is Rogelio will split his sides! But, oh, my stars, what a cost! Four thousand—oh, calamities!" Then, as the matter slowly revolved in his mind and the other aspect came uppermost, he would begin to chew again with a returning smirk of satisfaction. "But what a prize! Eh, Rogelio, what a prize! And safely housed—in the cage, as Duero put it!—accursed knave! serpent! Four—oh, my soul and body!—But, oho! Mendoza, thou uncouth ruffian, how now? Rogelio hath overmatched thee, despite thy rant and swagger. He, he! The fox and the bull—the fox and the bull! Ah, but thou 'rt a rogue, Rogelio! a sad rogue and sly! And thou'lt be reimbursed the four thousand—oh, my life, yes! Her jewels ought to do that. Did she wear jewels last night? Murder! I did not think to look. But 't is like Duero looked out for that—or that prison-bird, Peralta." Rogelio's countenance fell. Presently it brightened. "But we have her, and now it is to be seen how she will receive thee, Rogelio—her daring captor! Doubtless with charming terrors and maidenly trembling. Oh, these delightful women! Shy, timid, alluring! Bless their souls—if they have souls. He, he!"
He sat awhile blinking and chuckling at the remains of his meal; snuffled, arose, and went to make a toilet which he purposed should reconcile his captive. A zestful, engaging occupation, this decking for the admiration of a fair one; and most agreeable if one can, like Rogelio, achieve it with the flattering self-assurance that it cannot fail. Nevertheless, it was not without some rasping of temper, and more than once in the process Rogelio stamped and swore with squeaky emphasis. But at length, after a final glance at his mirror and a dubious fingering of his double chin and hanging jowls, he quit his room, creditably attired, considering all the circumstances. To be sure, his hose were mended in places, his doublet seedy in the strong light, and his ruff far from crisp and snowy; but these defects were offset by a profusion of rings, and a redolence of musk sufficiently overpowering to divert attention.
Señora Bolio answered his rap, and opening the door a little way, replied to his salutation with a brief nod, and stood surveying him from head to foot and back again from foot to head with disfavor as disconcerting as it was manifest. Indisputably, the señora's aspect was unfriendly.
Theveedorhesitated. "Is—ah—is the señorita within?"
The señora paused for another survey before she replied with asperity: "Is the señorita within! Of a surety the señorita is within. Prithee, where is she like to be—out chasing butterflies?"
Rogelio looked at her in blank surprise; then, with a feeble effort at a smile: "I would have a few words with her, Señora,—and alone! Pray, open the door."
The señora made no move to open the door, but replied tartly: "The señorita hath no words to spare and no ear for listening. She is wearied."
Theveedorreddened slowly as astonishment turned to anger. "What—what, woman! Dost think to offer me hindrance in mine own house? Stand aside, then gather thy belongings. Thou 'rt dismissed, dost hear? dismissed!" He stepped forward.
For reply the lady thrust out her arm and in close proximity to his nose, snapped her fingers. Theveedorgasped. His nerves were already unstrung, and his indignation set him a-quiver as if he had been some huge, fancifully-moulded jelly.
"Why—name of a—thou—my soul and body! What meanest thou, beldame? inconceivable termagant!"
Alas! Rogelio. That was unfortunate, ill-considered, rash. As if thou wert not enough distraught!—and now to invite the overflow of this brimming vessel of wrath! Before he could draw a second breath she was outside, arms akimbo, her face thrust so close into his that her features for a moment were a blur to his startled eyes. Then she unrolled the infinite scroll of her diatribe,—a withering flow of invectives garnered in years of rude experience; a schedule of strange metaphors, born of inspiration and chasing in so rapid sequence that his bewildered ears no sooner received the shock of one than another followed, twice more shocking; a torrent of hyperboles so weird in their personal application that his ideas staggered in a vague, wondering effort to comprehend, then floundered helpless in the stream; and each member of her discourse emphasized by a jab at his nose with thumb and finger that forced him back, step by step, across the court. The first flush of rage vanished from his countenance and left an expression of surprised impotency, his jaw working in a futile effort to articulate, until, turning with uplifted hands, he fled.
As his door slammed, the breathless señora became conscious of another man. A man at the moment was as a flaunt in the face of a maddened bull, and she turned upon him. It was Pedro. He had watched the episode from its beginning to its close. Now he was bowing low, cap in hand.
"Señora Bolio," he said, with great unction, "my admiration! My admiration, my homage, my reverence! My veneration, my stupefaction, my awe! My——"
"Oh, drat thy gibberings!" interrupted the señora, with irritation. "Be done with thy bobbing, and come hither. Thou 'rt the very man I wished to see."
"Heaven forfend!" murmured Pedro. "Hast yet more wind?"
She eyed him sternly, then her features gradually relaxed. "Not for thee, my chicken pie. But hearken, Pedro. I have news. This girl—dost know it?—is a Christian."
Pedro stared. "No!" he exclaimed. "And 't is the Ñusta Rava?"
"'T is she, and she a Christian, Pedro, as I live! And she calleth for Father Tendilla."
"For Father Tendilla! Then stew me, she shall have him! I'll fetch him."
"Fetch him, Pedro. Go at once." And taking him by the shoulder, the señora turned him toward the entrance of the court. "Make haste, and,Adiós."
Pedro went a few paces, and halted; reflected a moment, and returned. As the señora looked back he nodded toward Rogelio's dcor, and approaching it, rapped vigorously. There was silence, and he pounded again.
"Be off!" came a piping voice, not entirely steady.
Pedro pushed open the door, and heard a scurrying within. "Be off, woman! I'm armed. Enter at thy peril!" trebled the voice. Pedro thrust in his head. Theveedorwas intrenched behind his table, bathed in perspiration.
"Oh, thy pardon,Veedor! I thought thou didst bid me enter," said Pedro, and closed the door with a grin.
"Hold, good Pedro! Wait! Tarry a moment, I pray thee, my dear friend," called theveedor, but Pedro was gone. As he left the court the door opened, and Rogelio protruded his head, calling again; espied the señora across the court, and retired abruptly.