“The child has spoken. So it is ordained.”
The Guardians of the Temple exchanged glances and moved away again, gently swaying.
Maria-Teresa burst into tears, the ring of madness in her high sobs, while the little boy clung desperately, striving to console her.
“Do not cry, Maria-Teresa! They will come to save us. Papa and Dick will come.... Oh! What was that?”
From behind the walls come the strains of music. A curtain is raised, and the players enter—tall, sad-faced men who take their places in a ring around them. They are the sacred players of the quenia, the flute which is made of human bones. Their song is sadder than a De Profundis, and Maria-Teresa shivers, her beseeching eye exploring in vain every corner of the great bare room which is the antechamber of her tomb.
Monstrous, Cyclopean masses of stone, hexagonal in shape and placed one upon the other without mortar, held in place by their mighty weight alone, form the walls of the House of the Serpent. She knows where she is, for the mammaconas have told her. There are two Houses of the Serpent, one at Cajamarca, the other at Cuzco. They are called thus because of the stone serpent carved over the main entrances. The serpent is there to guard the sacred precincts, and never allows the victims of the Sun to escape. Aunt Agnes and old Irene have often told her this, and until now she has always laughed.
Maria-Teresa, then, is in Cuzco, in a palace well known to travelers, historians, and archaeologists; a place which all may enter, which all may leave in freedom; a place to which guides bring the curious stranger. Then what does it all mean? Why should she fear? They are sure to come to her rescue. But why are they still not here?
Which way will they come? Listen! Yes, above the sad piping of the quenias rise other sounds: murmurs, footsteps, and the dull rumble of a gathering throng. It comes from over there, from behind that vast curtain, that vast golden-yellow curtain which stretches right across the room and prevents her from seeing. What does it hide, and what is that crowd awaiting?
Maria-Teresa questions the two mammaconas who are to die with her. They are stretched at her feet in their long black veils, and rise with respect to answer. The faithful are waiting to adore King Huayna Capac, who will come to lead her back to Atahualpa. Maria-Teresa, uncomprehending, asks more questions. He will come from the bowels of the earth to claim them, and they will pass through the realms of night in their robes of mourning, till they reach the Enchanted Realms of the Sun. Then they will be clad all in gold, with golden dresses and jewels of gold, for all time.
“And the little boy?” asked Maria-Teresa.