Now the señor grew white with rage, and he broke in—
“You will do well to keep such words to yourself, Tikal; for of this be sure,—if you do not, I will add to my crimes and you shall not leave this place alive. No need to look at your guards. What do I care for your guards, who have but one life to lose. Speak thus again, and, before they reach you, you shall be dead.”
“Let him go on, husband,” said Maya; “what can a few insults more or less matter to us now. Continue, most noble Tikal; but, for your own sake, restrain yourself, and say nothing that a husband should not hear.”
“It is for this reason,” he went on, taking no notice of the señor’s anger, “that I have come here with a plan to save you all; yes, even this braggart white man who has robbed me of you. If Nahua and I are silent, who will know of your crimes? And if the evidence of them is destroyed before your eyes, who is there that can prove them? Now, I will be silent—at a price. I will even bring the true tablet of the prophecy and the roll of Mattai’s confession, and destroy them with fire before you.”
“You will be silent,” said Maya,—“but what of Nahua? Will she be silent also?”
Now Tikal’s dark face grew evil with some purpose of his own, though whether it were of murder or of what I do not know.
“Leave Nahua to me,” he said. “Withdraw the charge you made against her, of attempting to kill yonder child, and free her thus of the need of appearing this night in the Sanctuary, and I swear to you that no word of her dreadful secret shall ever pass her lips. Then you will be tried upon one issue only,—that of having broken your oaths by flying the city,—a crime that is not beyond forgiveness.”
“You spoke of a price, Tikal; tell us, what is this price that we must pay?”
“The price is yourself, Maya. Nay,—hear me out; and you, White Man, keep silent. If you will swear upon the Heart to become my wife within six months from this day, then I, on my part, will swear that the white man—your husband who is not your husband, for he won the consent of the Council to his marriage by a trick—shall be suffered to escape the land unharmed, taking with him his friend and so much of our treasure and things needful for their journey as he may desire. I will swear also—and by this you may see how deep and honest is my love for you—that your son shall not be dispossessed of the place and rank which he holds in the eyes of the people as a Heaven-sent Deliverer whose coming was foretold by prophecy. My child shall give place to yours, Maya. Once before I held out the hand of peace to you, but you refused it and tricked me, and from that refusal has sprung the death of your father and many other sorrows. Do not refuse me again, Maya, lest these sorrows should be increased and multiplied upon you, and upon us all. It is no strange or unnatural thing I ask of you—that you should wed the man to whom for many years you were affianced, and take your place as the first lady in this city, instead of giving yourself over, with your accomplices, to the most infamous of deaths.”
“Yet it is most strange and unnatural, Tikal, that a wife should be asked to part thus from her husband. But stay,—it is for him to speak, not me, for he may be glad to buy safety at this cost. First, what do you say, Ignatio? Tell me,—though I fear your answer, for it is easy to guess, seeing that Tikal offers all that you can desire, freedom, and treasure to enable you to execute your plans.”