In the Toils.
Five days after I had been wooed by the irresistible Mamcuna, and as I was beginning to fear that I should have to marry her first and run away afterward, I chanced to be riding in the neighborhood of the village, when a woman darted out of the thicket and, standing before my horse, held up her arms imploringly. I had never spoken to her, but I knew her as the white wife of one of the caciques.
“Save me, señor!” she exclaimed, “for the love of heaven and in the name of our common Christianity, I implore you to save me!”
“From what?”
“From my wretched life, from despair, degradation, and death.” And then she told me that, while travelling in the mountains with her husband, a certain Señor de la Vega, and several friends, they were set upon by a band of Pachatupecs who, after killing all the male members of the party, carried her off and brought her to Pachacamac, where she had been compelled to become one of the wives of the cacique Chimu, and that between his brutality and the jealousy of the other women, her life, apart from its ignominy, was so utterly wretched that, unless she could escape, she must either go mad or be driven to commit suicide.
“I should be only too glad to rescue you if I could. I want to escape myself; but how? I see no way.”
“It is not so difficult as you think, señor; if we can get horses and a few hours’ start, I will act as guide and lead you to a civilized settlement, where we shall be safe from pursuit. I know the country well.”
“Are you quite sure you can do this, señora? It will be a hazardous enterprise, remember.”
“Quite sure.”
“And you are prepared to incur the risk?”
“I will run any risk rather than stay where I am.”
“Very well, I will see what can be done. Meet me here to-morrow at this hour. And now, we had better separate; if we are seen together it will be bad for both of us. Hasta mañana.”
And then she went her way and I went mine.
I had said truly “a hazardous enterprise.” Hazardous and difficult in any circumstances, the hazard and the difficulty would be greatly increased by the presence of a woman; and the fact of a cacique’s wife being one of the companions of my flight would add to the inveteracy of the pursuit. I greatly doubted, moreover, whether Señora de la Vega knew the country as well as she asserted. She was so sick of her wretched condition that she would say or do anything to get away from it—and no wonder. But was I justified in letting her run the risk? The punishment of a woman who deserted her husband was death by burning; were Señora de la Vega caught, this punishment would be undoubtedly inflicted; were it even suspected that she had met me or any other man, secretly, Chimu would almost certainly kill her. Pachatupec husbands had the power of life and death over their wives, and they were as jealous and as cruel as Moors. Yet death was better than the life she was compelled to lead, and as she was fully cognizant of the risk it seemed my duty to do all that I could to facilitate her escape.
Then another thought occurred to me. Could this be a trap, a “put up job,” as the phrase goes. Though the caciques had not dared to make any open protest against Mamcuna’s matrimonial project, I knew that they were bitterly opposed to it, and nothing, I felt sure, would please them better than to kindle the queen’s jealousy by making it appear that I was engaged in an intrigue with one of Chimu’s wives.
Yet no, I could not believe it. No Christian woman would play so base a part. Señora de la Vega could have no interest in betraying me. She hated her savage husband too heartily to be the voluntary instrument of my destruction, and she was so utterly wretched that I pitied her from my soul.
A creole of pure Spanish blood and noble family, bereft of her husband, forced to become the slave of a brutal Indian, and the constant associate of hardly less brutal women, painfully conscious of her degradation, hopeless of any amendment of her lot, poor Señora de la Vega’s fate would have touched the hardest heart. And she had little children at home! My suspicions vanished even more quickly than they had been conceived, and before I reached my quarters I had decided that, come what might, the attempt should be made.
The next question was how and when. Clearly, the sooner the better; but whether we had better set off at sunrise or sunset was open to doubt. By leaving at sunset we should be less easily followed; on the other hand, we should have greater difficulty in finding our way and be sooner missed. It was generally about sunset that Mamcuna sent for me, and I knew that at this time it would be well-nigh impossible for Señora de la Vega to leave Chimu’s house without being observed and questioned, perhaps followed. So when we met as agreed, I told her that I had decided to make the attempt on the next morning, and asked her to be in a grove of plantains, hard by, an hour before dawn. I besought her, whatever she did, to be punctual; our lives depended on our stealing away before people were stirring.
Meanwhile Gahra and I had laid our plans. He was to give out the night before that we were setting off early next morning on a hunting expedition. This would enable us, without exciting suspicion, to take a supply of provisions, arms, and a led horse (for carrying any game we might kill) and, as I hoped, give us a long start. For even when Señora de la Vega was missed nobody would suspect that she had gone with us.
In the event—as we hoped, the improbable event—of our being overtaken or intercepted, Gahra and I were resolved not to be taken alive; but we had, unfortunately, no firearms; they were all lost in the snow-storm. Our only weapons were bows and arrows and machetes. I carried the former merely as a make-believe, to keep up my character as a hunter; for the same reason we took with us a brace of dogs. If it came to fighting I should have to put my trust in my machete, a long broad-bladed sword like a knife, formidable as a lethal weapon, yet chiefly used for clearing away brambles and cutting down trees.
All went well at the beginning. We were up betimes and off with our horses before daylight. The braves on duty asked no questions, there was no reason why they should, and we passed through the village without meeting a soul.
So far, good. The omens seemed favorable, and my hopes ran high. We should get off without anybody knowing which way we had taken, and several hours before Señora de la Vega was likely to be missed.
But when we reached the rendezvous she was not there. I whistled and called softly; nobody answered.
“She will be here presently, we must wait,” I said to Gahra.
It was terribly annoying. Every minute was precious. The Pachatupecs are early risers, and if Señora de la Vega did not join us before daylight we might be seen and the opportunity lost. The sun rose; still she did not come, and I had just made up my mind to put off our departure until the next morning, and try to communicate with Señora de la Vega in the meantime, when Gahra pointed to a pathway in the wood, where his sharp eyes had detected the fluttering of a robe.
At last she was coming. But too late. To start at that time would be madness, and I was about to tell her so, send her back, and ask her to meet me on the next morning, when she ran forward with terrified face and uplifted hands.
“Save me! Save me!” she cried, “I could not get away sooner. I have been watched. They are following me, even now.”
This was a frightful misfortune, and I feared that the señora had acted very imprudently. But it was no time either for reproaches or regrets, and the words were scarcely out of her mouth when I lifted her into the saddle; as I did so, I caught sight of two horsemen and several foot-people, coming down the pathway.
“Go!” I said to Gahra, “I shall stay here.”
“But, señor—”
“Go, I say; as you love me, go at once. This lady is in your charge. Take good care of her. I can keep these fellows at bay until you are out of sight and, if possible, I will follow. At once, please, at once!”
They went, Gahra’s face expressing the keenest anguish, the señora half dead with fear. As they rode away I turned into the pathway and prepared for the encounter. The foot-people might do as they liked, they could not overtake the fugitives, but I was resolved that the horsemen should only pass over my body.
The foremost of them was Chimu himself. When he saw that I had no intention of turning aside, he and his companion (who rode behind him) reined in their horses. The cacique was quivering with rage.
“My wife has gone off with your negro,” he said, hoarsely.
I made no answer.
“I saw you help her to mount. You have met her before. Mamcuna shall know of this, and my wife shall die.”
Still I made no answer.
“Let me pass!”
I drew my machete.
Chimu drew his and came at me, but he was so poor a swordsman, that I merely played with him, my object being to gain time, and only when the other fellow tried to push past me and get to my left-rear, did I cut the cacique down. On this his companion bolted the way he had come. I galloped after him, more with the intention of frightening than hurting him, and was just on the point of turning back and following the fugitives, when something dropped over my head, my arms were pinioned to my side, and I was dragged from my saddle.
The foot-people had lassoed me.