"You will receive the paper to-day; and now nothing delayeth your liberty but Pizarro's uneasiness about the feeling among your subjects. We shall remove that uncertainty, and when we meet again, my lord, it will be on the eve of your freedom."

Atahualpa turned his dark eyes upon him. "My friend," he said gravely, "we shall not meet again!—Nay, hear me! I know what thou wouldst say, but I am right. This is our last meeting.—Be silent!" he interrupted, with some sternness, when Cristoval essayed to speak. "I do not say this to hear thy protests; and let us not waste words, for time is fleeting. When you return, I shall be—not here. I have been forewarned. My life is near its close. Enough! I do not fear to die. I would say naught of this, but there is something I would ask of thee."

He paused, and for a moment his eyes looked searchingly into those of the cavalier. When he resumed it was as if satisfied with the scrutiny, and he spoke in the tone he might have used to a brother.

"There is something I would ask of thee. 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. Promise me this. Nay, promise me more. She will be surrounded by a thousand perils—give thy word thou'lt be ready to lay down thy life to save her unharmed; and, should all else fail, that thou wilt, at the end of hope, plunge thy dagger to her heart, rather than surrender her to dishonor. Give me thy promise. I ask it as a soldier of a soldier, Viracocha Cristoval."

Cristoval, moved to the depths of his chivalrous soul by the earnest appeal of this splendid despot, who had never before laid aside his majesty to ask a boon of mortal man, but who now addressed him with a brother's prayer for the sanctity of his sister, offered his hand. It was taken by the monarch, and for the moment they stood regarding one another, no longer as prince and conquistador, Inca and Spaniard, but as men.

"My Lord Inca," said Cristoval, "I swear by all I hold most sacred to spare neither my blood nor my life in her defence!"

"It is enough, my friend. I thank thee. I demand much of thy friendship. How I can ask it of one who hath come with mine enemies, with full assurance that I ask it not in vain, only He who shineth into all men's hearts can say. I trust thee, Viracocha Cristoval. Now go! May the infinite and unknown Pachacamac watch over thee! Farewell. But wait—take this!—it will serve thee." He unwound the llautu from his head and detached a bit of its crimson fringe. "Preserve it! It will be thy safeguard to the farthest borders of Tavantinsuyu. Farewell!"

CHAPTER XII

Vengeance Foiled

Although Cristoval could not share the Inca's mistrust of Pizarro's faith, he was profoundly impressed by his words of farewell, spoken with such firm conviction. They saddened him despite his confidence in his commander, and as he crossed the court his steps lagged while he pondered the possibility of remaining in Caxamalca. His deliberation was ended by the trumpets of his troop sounding in the plaza. It was too late now, at any rate, and he hurried on. He was arrested by hearing his name called timidly, and turning, saw one of the Princess Rava's maidens hastening toward him.