Whatever depth of hatred the Inca cherished toward his captors, however burning his thirst for revenge, no sign betrayed them. The bitterness of captivity must have sunk into his proud heart, but it lay hidden beneath unvarying dignity and calm. With strength and patience which rose above disaster and compelled the admiration of the Spaniards, he took up the affairs of his stricken country, and with masterly readiness stayed the demoralization already sweeping over his empire like a tidal wave. With the few nobles left him he held his councils. Fleet chasquis were despatched to the farthest confines of his dominions, bearing assurances of his safety, enjoining peace, and summoning his trusted advisers.
Meanwhile, everything practicable was done to mitigate the hardship of his captivity. The blue-uniformed guard in the anteroom had given place to a detail of steel-accoutred Spaniards, and sentinels were in evidence outside the palace walls, but the monarch saw little of them. Even the officers did not intrude upon his privacy; though later he found pleasure, or at least interest, in the society of certain of them and invited them often. He gave daily audience to his people, who were admitted freely to his presence. They found him still wearing the llautu and possessing the semblance—to all immediate intents and purposes the actuality—of his imperial power. They were commanded by him to be acquiescent to the strangers, by whom they were treated with due consideration, and went away reassured.
The soldiers were now removed from the temporary barracks and assigned to quarters in the houses, largely left vacant by townspeople who availed themselves of the privilege of leaving Caxamalca. Cristoval, with De Soto, took a dwelling not far from the palace. He dismissed most of the Indies placed at his service, and assigned a suitable number to the wounded Toparca, whom he left in his old quarters on the square.
The prince was mending rapidly under José's skill, but was still unable to rise. Cristoval visited him daily, thereby improving his knowledge of Quichua and acquiring information about the country. As their acquaintance ripened he found the noble to be very much a man, and beneath his reserve he discovered a genuine urbanity. Toparca, on his part influenced by gratitude, increased by Cristoval's unfailing thoughtfulness, had become strongly attached to his rescuer, whose friendship he regarded as the condescension of a being somewhat more than human.
Returning late one afternoon from a reconnaissance to the southward, Cristoval stopped to inquire for the prince. He entered the patio, rapped upon the half-open door, and, without waiting for an answer, pushed aside the hangings and entered,—to find himself confronted by half-a-dozen young women. He recognized them at once by their costume as attendants at the palace. The sudden apparition of his mailed figure threw consternation among the damsels, nearly equalled by his own at their half-suppressed scream. Stammering an apology, part Spanish, part Quichua, he bowed and was hastily retiring when Toparca called from his couch:—
"Wait, Viracocha Cristoval! Do not go before I have made you known to my sister, the Ñusta Rava. Tarry a moment, I pray you."
The princess had risen, terrified by the formidable man in steel, whose face she could scarcely discern beneath his lifted visor. To her unaccustomed eyes he was huge and monstrous—a direful, enigmatic being from another world, of a race prodigious in destructiveness, unassailable and irresistible as gods, murderous as fiends. The sound of his approach as he moved toward her, the clank and harsh rustle of his accoutrements, struck dread to her heart. Cristoval perceived her trembling. He halted, hurriedly unlatched and removed his helmet.
"I trust the Ñusta Rava will forgive me for appearing in my harness," he said in Quichua made lame by his embarrassment, and bowing gravely; "but I had no thought of finding any one here but my Lord Toparca. With her gracious permission I will retire."
"No, no!" said Toparca. "Let me present you:—Rava, this is the Viracocha Cristoval, who, as I have told thee, rescued me from death."
Cristoval made a low obeisance, but the princess recoiled from him in undisguised horror. Toparca saw the movement and expression, and said quickly: "Rava, thou needst have no fear. I beg thou wilt know the Viracocha Cristoval as my friend."