CHAPTER XV—BEFORE THE COUNCIL
The balance of that day was one filled with foreboding. Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto, an hour or so after their dismissal by Prince Huaca, were summoned by a servant again to his apartments with the understanding that they were to be escorted thence to appear before the Inca’s Council. Left to themselves, the four boys chatted together at first about their strange interview; but, as the hours passed with no word from the older men, they grew more and more to feel as if some evil impended, and lapsed at length into a gloomy silence.
Bob flung himself on a couch in a doze, Ferdinand stood at a loophole, gazing out upon the great square where the merriment continued unabated. It would last eight days, Prince Huaca had said. Jack and Frank tried to find oblivion in books among their belongings, but with ill success. As for the two huachos, Pedro and Carlos, they took the matter philosophically, and continued their endless game of cards.
“This is driving me mad,” said Jack, at length, tossing aside his book. “The afternoon is going fast, and it will soon be night. Already the square is in shadow below, and it is too dim to read. Where can they be? What can have detained them?”
An interruption came in the form of the servants, who had brought their food previously, and who now again entered, cleared the table, and set out food once more. For a moment, the wild idea of attempting to overcome them and make a bolt for Prince Huaca’s apartments, in search of his father came to Jack. But he quickly put it aside, for in the outer corridor he glimpsed the armed guards who had accompanied the servants.
“Thank goodness, they brought a light,” he ejaculated, after the servants had departed, leaving behind, beside the food, a gold vessel filled with oil in which burned a wick that gave a clear, bright flame. “Well, you fellows that are hungry, fall to. I couldn’t eat a bite.”
Frank went up to him and put an arm over his shoulders.
“Come on, old man,” he said. “I know how you feel. But it is foolish to worry. Your Dad has just been spinning so many fairy tales about the modern world that he has these old boys sitting there with their eyes popping out, and they won’t let him go; they want him to tell them some more yarns. He’ll be back, all right, presently, and the Inca probably will be coming along with him to see what we look like. ‘The Young Wizards, hey?’ he’ll say. ‘Pleased to meet you. Trot out a few tricks for us.’ And you want to have a full stomach, then, or how can you perform well? Come on, come on.”
And, laughing and jollying, Frank pushed Jack to the table, and in similar fashion rounded up Ferdinand, then tumbled the snoring Bob to the floor, whereat Pedro and Carlos chuckled, and under the spell of his geniality, a measure of confidence and cheer was restored to the group.
As they were in the midst of eating, the key once more grated in the lock and Jack, with an eager cry, sprang toward the door, Ferdinand a close second. Nor were they disappointed, for Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto were ushered in by the guard.
“Well boys, did you think we were never going to return?” asked Mr. Hampton, cheerfully. A glance at Jack had revealed to him the worry in his son’s face.
A chorus of replies answered.
“Jack would have it that the pair of you were cut up in mince meat to be fed to the Inca,” said Frank, after the chorus had died down. “But I told him the Inca was probably feeding out of your hand.”
“Not quite that,” said Mr. Hampton. “But we are hungry. Let us have a minute’s chance to eat a bit, and then we’ll tell you what happened.”
The boys were eager to hear, but forebore until it appeared Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto had satisfied their appetites. Then the dishes were pushed to one end of the table and, standing about the other end, upon which reposed the lamp, or leaning upon it, for there were no chairs in the apartment, they began to ply the two older men with questions.
“What was it like?”
“Could they all speak Spanish?”
“What did they ask you?”
“Did you tell them about the modern inventions?”
“Anything said about radio?”
Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto threw up their hands.
“One at a time, one at a time,” protested Mr. Hampton. “And, perhaps, you had better let us tell this in our own way. No, Jack, there was nothing about radio. Prince Huaca cautioned us not to speak of it. I don’t know—but I think he wants to hold that back for some purpose of his own. And I, for one, am perfectly willing to abet him. For, after what we learned today, it looks as if we would need a friend.”
“That is right,” agreed Don Ernesto.
“Why, Dad,” asked Jack, anxiously, “What do you mean?”
“Well, it looks as if there were two parties at court. In fact, really three.”
“What, Dad? What are they?”
“Well, first I must tell you we did not see the Inca, but only the Council. Two parties are for starting out of this isolation and conquering a lot of land, in order to make room for the growing population, which, despite all efforts of the State—such as keeping many young women from raising families by putting them in the Convent of the Vestal Virgins—is becoming a problem. One of these parties is blindly confident the world has not advanced and that the Inca’s armies can assert their power. The other recalls the history of the coming of the Spaniards to old Cusco, which caused their forefathers to flee thither, and believes it must arm itself with white man’s knowledge first. This we learned from Prince Huaca.”
“But what is the danger to us in that? We know how foolish either project would be?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hampton gravely, turning to Frank who had asked the question, “but the party which is blindly confident of the Inca’s ability to sweep all before him, would prefer to make a beginning with us. They would like to sacrifice us to the Sun God before setting forth. And what happened to the Incas after that would not matter very much to us.”
“Whew,” said Bob, “the bloody rascals.”
“And the third party, Dad?”
“Prince Huaca heads the third party,” Mr. Hampton said. “That is the party which, like the others, believes the centuries-old isolation of Cusco Hurrin must be broken up, in order that the inhabitants may have more territory in which to grow. But it is against attempting to use force of arms, believing my words that the outside world is too powerful to be overcome. It is inclined to discuss the possibility of sending ambassadors to the surrounding nations and opening relations, provided it can be assured that such a course will not be merely to invite destruction as was the case in old Cusco when the Inca Atahualpa opened his country to Pizarro, only to be destroyed treacherously by the Spaniards.”
“And they told you all this?”
“Oh, no, Jack,” Mr. Hampton said. “There were ten men in the Council, all of Incarial blood, the highest nobles of the country. Prince Huaca is a nephew of the present Inca, who is childless, and thus is his heir. He is the Captain of the Fortress, holder of the Tunnel Way. But I can see he has bitter enemies, and some of them have the ear of the Inca, chief among them being the High Priest, Cinto. Much that I have told you was not brought out directly at the Council, but was told us later by Prince Huaca, with whom we have been alone a second time since leaving the Council, and for a considerable period.”
“Did they question you about the outside world? And what did you tell them?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hampton, “it was that of which we spoke. We told them in a general way of cannon, airplanes, steamships, automobiles and so on. But we did not speak of the telegraph or of radio.”
“Because Prince Huaca asked you not to?”
“That was the reason, yes. You see, he is a remarkable man. With no previous knowledge of the wonders of the world, he has accepted without question what we have told him. At once, apparently, after our first interview, the one which you boys attended, his mind busied itself with some plan or other, of which I haven’t the least idea, to use radio for his own purposes. And he wants any hint of it kept secret from the other members of the Council.”
“I wonder what he has in mind,” said Jack.
“I cannot guess,” replied his father. “Father,” said Ferdinand, “what is your opinion of Prince Huaca?”
Thus appealed to, Don Ernesto, who had kept silence, permitting Mr. Hampton to act as spokesman, smiled a little.
“He is a very wonderful man,” said he. “As my friend, Senor Hampton, says, he has accepted as true and natural whatever we have told him. Members of the Council were inclined to scout our words, to believe us liars. Their minds were not big enough to compass the wonders of which we spoke. But it is not so with Prince Huaca. There is a man of great native intelligence, one who with education would be a genius. He seems to me born to rule, a natural leader of man, with a dominant personality.”
To this estimate, Mr. Hampton gave emphatic assent.
“As he told you boys,” he added, “archaic Spanish is handed down in the Incarial families. The ten members of the Council speak and understand it in a measure. But none so well as he. He frequently acted as our interpreter. And not only does he know Spanish, but Latin, for the priests of de Arguello’s expedition were learned men and had with them some textbooks which, written on parchment, have been preserved. From these he has educated himself, and, though his pronunciation of Latin is not the best in the world, he has done surprisingly well. He showed us an ancient Latin dictionary, and a Caesar’s Gallic Wars.”
Bob groaned.
“And he has read ‘Caesar’?”
“Yes.”
“All I can say is he’s a better man than I am,” said Bob, who had entered Yale with a condition in Latin.
Frank and Jack laughed. In the momentary silence that followed, the shouts and laughter of the great crowd in the square below came up to them.
“Listen to that, will you?” said Bob. “And they’ll be keeping that up all night, too, I expect.”
“For eight days,” said Mr. Hampton.
“Look,” said Frank, who had approached a loophole. “See that fellow with a wreath of golden leaves around his head, holding up the wine cup. Gold it is, too. He’s reciting. See them all laugh and applaud. What a scene, that ring around him, the firelight on them! He must be a poet or minstrel. Golly, how I wish I could be down there, dressed in a tunic and sandals, and mixing around in that crowd. Say, but wouldn’t that be an experience for you?”
“Surely would,” said Jack, looking over his shoulder. “Listen, though, somebody coming.”
The key turned in the lock of the great door.