“ Hear me, Cristoval! It is not yet with us, with the army, though thou hast seen the meagre fare our braves have had these many days, and hast been in want, thyself. But there is a graver peril. Thou knowest, the season of planting is at hand. The fields are waiting. Every province of the empire hath been denuded of its men, and only women, children, and the feeble, are left to till the soil. The time is short, and if the grain be not sowed, a calamity will follow, blacker in its horror than that of war, which taketh only lives of men. Starvation recketh neither of sex nor age. ”

“ I am not an Inca, Markumi, nor an idol, nor an altar, nor yet a heathen god, nor a saint; and may never be any one of them, though I have a namesake who is the last—San Cristoval, of blessed memory, of whom thou mayst some day learn. But, being neither one nor another, this excessive reverence doth not relish me. I am a plain soldier, and love naught better than to see a man upright on his two legs. Reserve, therefore, thy homage for the ladies, who have full claim and title to it; and thy cramps for the Inca, who may be wonted to it—as I am not. Dost comprehend, Markumi? ”

“ Cristoval's face clouded. "It will not do, my good comrade," he said. "Thou must have no part in it, save with thy counsel. Thou hast already ventured too much for friendship's sake. The affair at Caxamalca might have cost thee dearly." Pedro had not told him of the thumbscrews. "And furthermore, I cannot use thy gold. I am penniless, and could never repay thee. Advise, and no more."
"Why, stew me to rags, Cristoval!" retorted Pedro, with irritation, "thou dost talk as if we were not friends."
"Nay! That is as far from my thoughts as from thine. But friendship—"
"Is friendship!" ”

“ He turned abruptly upon Almagro, who, unacquainted with the Quichua, had given him little heed, lolling wearily in his chair.
"O, thou Viracocha, offspring of Supay!" cried the old Indio, shaking his clenched hands toward the Spaniard, "dost yawn at my sorrow, monster? Hast the heart of a wolf—thou who wearest the aspect of a man? May the great Inti strike thee with thrice my grief, thrice mine infirmities!"
Almagro, listening with some surprise to the violent apostrophe, looked toward the younger Pizarro: "What saith he, Juan?"
"By God, he hath told a tale of bitter wrong, Diego!" ”

“ It was night when Cristoval arrived at the heights overlooking Cuzco, and the city lay dark and silent below. But the vast circle of the fires of the besieging host sparkled no more. The army had vanished. He found a remnant among the hills, picked warriors of the empire, led by Manco, and chosen to die in its last burst of glory.
There were long weeks of fighting about the city; fierce dashes by the Spaniards, driven by famine from their lair among the ruins, more fiercely resisted by the watchful Manco, to be many times hunted back with shattered ranks. ”

“ Around the Inca the unequal struggle goes on under his horror-stricken eyes, and he stands, benumbed and helpless, tottering on his reeling litter. In the anguish of their despair his nobles cast themselves to death with a loyalty of devotion the gods might envy; but the bulwark they interpose before their beloved lord grows steadily less. Several of the Spaniards now are making frenzied efforts to reach him with their weapons, and one has hurled his pike. Pizarro sees the movement and shouts, hoarse with weariness, unheard and unheeded, "Strike not the Inca, on pain of death!" ”

“ Pedro turned away with a gesture as if to wave him off. He faced about. "Do I know her! Warily and charily, señor—as a pup knoweth the family cat! Ah, Madre! Lieutenant Cristoval, she hath a tongue like a flail—like a red-hot rapier. Thou shouldst hear her storm—at some other man—when she is roused! Nay, smile not! I once heard her berating her servants, and they wilted, withered, shrivelled like spiders on a hot skillet. Ah, stew me! Bolio!"
"Thou dost stir mine interest, Pedro," said Cristoval. "Who is the lady?" ”

“ Cristoval encountered a look of mingled wonder and abhorrence. It was some seconds before Atahualpa spoke. Then he said slowly: "Strange beings! Do you consider that it hath some magic virtue, this gold, or doth it not possess some hidden power to give madness?"
"Both, my Lord Inca! It hath a magic that can bring all things to its possessor—save only happiness, love, and salvation; and it can cause madness."
"It is a riddle!" exclaimed the Inca, with impatience. "But enough! Thou tellest me you have come for gold. Dost thou want gold, Viracocha Cristoval? Hear me!" ”

“ The Ñusta Rava—my Ñusta Rava!—hath fled, as thou knowest, with that bullying, swearing, blood-drinking scoundrel, Peralta. I want her back. Mendoza wants her back. I won her fairly at play, and she is mine; but I see that it grateth him to give her up. If he taketh her, he may not give her up. May the plague torture him a thousand years! Now, seest thou, I am not a man of arms. If I were, I would pursue her myself. But I am a civilian—an officer of the Crown, with a wife and—that is to say, Felipillo, I must not endanger myself in the hardship of a pursuit. ”

“ Great God! Was not the atrocity of the plaza enough to glut thee? I tell thee, Pizarro, thou hast done foul murder!—Hath expiated his crimes, sayst thou!—Hath received the penalty of trusting a thing so scant and beggarly as thine honor, which, by Saint Michael, did underfit thee, thou perjured and lying miscreant, when thou wast a swineherd!"
Pizarro had risen. He was silent, but the deathly pallor of his countenance and the sudden cat-like contraction of the pupils of his eyes, burning with animosity in the shadow of his scowl, spoke his rage more plainly than an outburst. ”

“ There are many prisoners, and Hernando Pizarro is directing the work of making them secure in the buildings. Surrounding the group about the Inca is a turbulent circle of soldiers, panting yet from their work, and jostling one another for a view of the royal prisoner. They make a savage and grewsome picture as they glare, red-eyed, faces flushed, reeking with sweat and splashed with blood from head to foot, leaning upon their gory weapons. Atahualpa stands silent, proudly erect, his features immovable as bronze, seemingly devoid of emotion as if his heart were of that metal. ”

“ The narrow course of the Tullamayu presented the only breach, and this was already perilous, dense with smoke and illumined by a storm of falling sparks and burning brands. He glanced about at the Antis. Their faces were alight and their eyes gleaming with the fire, but they showed no sign of fear, and with a word to Rimachi, Cristoval started down the stream.
Shortly they were within the fire-belt, heads bent forward, groping through the stinging smoke and rain of embers, blundering and slipping on the water-worn bowlders, under an appalling canopy. ”

“ Hernando, mount a chair and scratch a mark with thy dagger where the Inca put his hand. My lord, deign to raise your hand again. By the gods, Señores! What say you to 't? A hundred thousand demons! D'ye believe your ears? We are all rich men! Ask the noble again, Peralta, whether he can do it!—Ask another of them! Saith he yes? Art sure? Blood and wounds and gods of war! Ha, ha! What say ye to't, Señores?"
Pizarro's cold reserve had gone. Cristoval had rarely seen him smile before: now he laughed, even roared, not pleasantly; and his pale countenance showed unaccustomed color. ”

“ Manco raised his hand. "It must be! I have held council all this day and to-night."
"Your counsellors—have they been stricken with madness?" cried the cavalier. "Do they not know—"
"My friend," interrupted the Inca, placing a hand upon Cristoval's shoulder, "my counsellors know what it is not possible that thou shouldst know—that Tavantinsuyu is menaced by a foe more ruthless than the one in yonder city. This hour hath been long foreseen, and now it is come. Hunger is abroad!"
"Your stanchest ally!" interjaculated Cristoval.
"An ally, but one ready to turn most cruelly against us! ”

“ Warriors whirled around him, yielding here before the lightning blade; closing there and forcing him to fight to the rear. From the doorway Markumi had sped his last arrow and fled. Every shaft had carried death. Cristoval fought, not with hope, not in despair, but in madness to reach and save his love; in a frenzy to kill, kill, kill, while a man lived to interpose. All at once he became conscious of a growing light. The villa was afire! A torch had been set to the roof of the main building, and the thatch blazed high, a column of rosy smoke curling toward the quiet stars. ”

“ Treasure enough here, Pizarro, to whet the greed and nerve the arms of your ravening, plunder-hungry companions, could they but behold it from their concealment! Let us see. Twenty-five thousand ducats in the seat on which the Inca sits. Thousands more in the decorations of the sedan. Thousands more in the gem-encrusted standard, and every noble in the train wearing a small fortune on his person. Such a display never before met the eyes or brightened the dreams of your Spaniards, whom the chasqui has reported, not without truth, as huddled, panic-stricken, in some of the buildings of the town. ”

“ The decoying party of Antis was flying before it in a dash for the fatal entanglement upon which the Spaniards were blindly rushing. The Antis reached it; were dimly seen by Cristoval as they leaped into the débris; then came the crash of breaking timbers when the pursuing troop struck the obstruction, a confusion of yells and Spanish shouts of warning, drowned by the war-cries of the tribesmen behind the walls as they delivered their terrible volley. A wild, tossing disarray of horses and riders, plunging and falling among the snapping beams, ridden over by the resistless torrent from behind. ”

“ Then Cristoval, alone, sought to realize his happiness. In his room he raised his sword, and kissed its hilt—the soldier's cross.
Ware happiness complete! Evil hath no harbinger more sure. Their glimpse of it was fleeting, as always. Even while they dreamed it would endure, the blow was falling. One day, a second, and a third—days with hours like minutes, speeding on so quickly to the evening, the evening so quickly into night, that the lovers seemed hardly met before it was time to part again and lie in fevered longing for the dawn, each with a thousand thoughts untold. ”

“ Thou hast been my friend, as I believe in my heart. Of all these unknown around me I have felt that I know thee, Viracocha Cristoval, and I know that I can entrust to thee now my dearest wish. It is this: I shall leave behind me many loved ones, and among them the Ñusta Rava. Promise me thou wilt be to her what thou wouldst wish a friend to be to thy best beloved sister. Toparca hath not his strength. None of my people can aid her as well as thou in time of need. Guard her life until thou canst convey her to safety. Above all, guard her honor. ”

“ Cristoval and Pedro stood near the group around Mocho. The sky was light when far in the distant streets they heard the war-cry of the Antis. Immediately followed the hoarse shouts of the Spaniards, shots, and trumpets calling to arms. The sounds were faintly borne on the morning breeze, but full of portent, and echoed in many a warlike heart among the ruins of the suburbs. Mocho moved forward, giving Cristoval a wave of the hand as he passed, and a rustling and shuffling rose in the road back of where the two Spaniards stood as the waiting warriors took their places in column. ”

“ At last, to his complete dismay, she gave up, weeping.
"Oh, Viracocha Cristoval," she sobbed, "I can go no farther! Leave me and save yourself. Alone, you can escape, but I can only be a fatal hindrance. Go, I pray you!"
The cavalier would have been less disturbed had a dozen soldiers sprung up before him, and would have known better what to do. "Oh, Holy Mother!" he groaned to himself, "look upon a helpless sinner and aid him now! A weeping girl in the middle of a heathen cornfield in the middle of a heathen rainy night, and not another woman within a league to run for!" ”

“ The night was hideous with the clamor outside, but he gave little heed, intent only on his quest. He heard a step, and ran against someone in the gloom, who sprang back with a familiar exclamation and engaged him. "Pedro!" he shouted, and the cook responded: "Thou, Cristoval! Heaven be praised! Where the fiend are we? Where are the others?"
"Only the fiend knoweth. Come!" They hastened along, throwing open doors, but finding everywhere darkness and vacancy. Cristoval's hope was fast going. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" he muttered over and over. "Where is she? Rava! Rava!" he called. ”

“ Cristoval rose to his feet, still giddy, and set to work, De Valera submitting quietly, while Rava looked on in wonder.
"Alli!" quoth Cristoval, as he tossed the last piece upon the heap of armor. "Now, Ñusta Rava, thy girdle, I pray thee, to bind him. No groaning, Señor! It doth misbecome thee. Now, thy hands behind thy back. So! Now for thy feet.—Good! Hast a kerchief? Then we'll have a choke-pear.—Silence! Dost think I'll have thee waking mournful echoes through the night? Thou hast shouted more than is good for thee already. ”

“ Pizarro shouted to him in a voice of fury:—
"Call the guard! Kill him, Dominguez! Kill him!"
Dominguez dashed to the door and threw it open, calling: "Ho, the guard! The guard!" and turned upon Cristoval with his sword. The latter sprang forward to meet him, and engaged his blade before he had made a step. There was a second's sharp play, and Dominguez went down with a groan, senseless from a cut which laid open his head. The sentinel rushed in, and stood for an instant transfixed.
"Kill him! Kill him, dolt! Why standest thou?" bellowed Pizarro, charging from his door sword in hand. ”

“ It is some minutes before he is mounted, and meanwhile a wall of stone and adobe forming part of the enclosure of the square has given away before the crush of the fear-driven horde, and they burst through the break in a huge struggling torrent. They reach the plain outside the town, pursued with relentless ferocity by the cavalry. The Inca's troops, already in consternation at the uproar in the village, the shrieks, the cannonade, and the overhanging cloud of smoke, take the panic and scatter as chaff before the wind. ”

“ Quito hath fallen. Daily, as came the reports of the great pestilence, come now tales of new invasion. The great sea, vacant since the world began, disgorgeth fresh swarms with every tide, as some rotten pool its burden of vermin. The gaunt leader, Pizarro, is rearing cities, driving our children into slavery to hew his stone and build his walls. The fairest vales of Tavantinsuyu are being seized by strangers, their people banished from their homes, or lashed into servitude. Yet I am called the Inca! Oh, Rava, turn away thy face till Manco hath been worthy of his trust! ”

“ A faint haziness overhung the valley, with filmy spirals of white smoke rising languidly above the roofs into the air, a-quiver with the warmth of the lowland and lending lightness and unreality to the almost dreamlike splendor of the capital. It seemed not of the West. The bright walls of dwellings, the glare of street and plaza, the green of interior court and garden, and the gold of the roofs of palace and temple, were blended by distance into a harmonious beauty which might have belonged rather to some metropolis of the fabled Orient. ”

“ The column must fight through, or be crushed by those in the rear. The leading riders pressed on, sabring at the multitude crowding from all sides. Cristoval advanced with Pedro to meet them. A lasso serpentined through the haze of flying arrows, settled over the foremost trooper, and jerked him from his saddle, to be lost among the Antis as if swallowed by the sea. Other sinuous lines shot out, fastening upon the Spaniards and dragging them to quick obliteration. Those in advance paused, fear-struck by a weapon against which their blades were powerless. ”