“Ay, well, well as ever, Señor!” rolled in a murmur round the table, and again the drink in Carvahal cried out—
“Cuerpo de Cristo! Tell him that if this side of the world is not big enough for him we will make shift to carve him out a piece of the other. Carrajo! how much gold, I wonder, has the heathen got? If he could fill one room, why not two, or twenty, or even one for each of us?”
It was the very thought that had been rising in the minds of most of them, so quickly does the greed of man grow when fed on dreams of countless wealth, but none of them spoke, for Pizarro was already holding up his hand for silence, and Filipillo, with grave deference outwardly, but laughing in his evil little heart, addressed the Inca and said—
“Son of the Sun, thy words are pleasing to the leader of the Christians and all his people. The truth is as I told thee, it is gold they come for, and for gold they will do anything and venture all things. The Captain bids me tell thee that when the room is filled to the mark thou shalt again sit on the throne of the Four Regions, provided always that it shall be found on inquiry to be made in the meanwhile that it is lawfully thine and not thy brother Huascar’s.”
The blood rushed into the Inca’s face, turning it to a ruddy bronze, and his eyes, always somewhat bloodshot, gleamed redly under his black, lowering brows. His broad chest heaved quickly with something like a sob, for now indeed was the dread and dismal truth fully brought home to him. These strangers were not only his captors and masters, they would make themselves his judges too, and if Huascar, whom his armies had already conquered and made captive, would but bid against him and throw the countless treasures of the City of the Sun into the balance, what hope had he of being able to buy even his life?
Thus did the thought so subtly put into his mind by a lad who was but little better than the slave of the strangers first stain the soul of Atahuallpa with the dark purpose whose carrying out became the excuse for his own doom. Low indeed had the Son of the Sun fallen! Better a thousandfold that he should have died a warrior and a king, or even as a martyr in the midst of his murdered people!
It was some little time before he could speak or subdue the emotions that were choking him, but at length the old kingly habit of self-command came to his aid, and he said with a strange, forced calmness—
“Tell thy masters that in the matter of the ransom I will do as I have said, but that concerning my brother Huascar there can be no question between us. My armies have carried out the will of my Lord and father, and Huascar no longer reigns in Cuzco, nor ever can again. Tell the strangers this, and for thyself, slave, learn that if I ever know thee to have spoken falsely between us thou shalt be flayed alive, and thy body shall be eaten by ants under the full noon-day sun.”
Filipillo bowed low and laughed again in his heart. Then he translated the first part of the Inca’s speech to Pizarro, and added instead of the latter part—
“My Lord the Inca trusts in the justice of his cause by right of birth and of arms, and fears no inquiry, but he would have your worships know that Huascar is already conquered and a captive, and by this time it may be dead, slain by hands which the Inca can no longer restrain.”