She glanced at me quickly and nodded her head. Then without more words, for officers were pressing towards us, she drew a ring off her finger, a thick and ancient golden ring on which were cut what looked like flowers, or images of the sun, and gave it to me.
“Wear this for my sake. It is very old and has a story of true love that I have no time to tell,” she said.
I took it and in exchange passed to her that ancient ring which my mother had given to me, the ring that had come down to her with the sword Wave-Flame, saying:
“This, too, is old and has a story; wear it in memory of me.”
Then we parted and presently she was gone.
I stood watching her litter till it vanished in the evening haze. Then I turned to go to find myself face to face with Huaracha.
“Lord-from-the-Sea,” he said, “you have played a man’s—or a god’s—part to-day. Had you bidden my daughter bide here, she would have done so for love of you and the Chanca people must have been destroyed, for as that old Inca or his spokesman told us, the breaking of my oath would have been taken as a declaration of instant war. Now we have breathing time, and in the end things may go otherwise.”
“Yes,” I answered, “but what of Quilla and what of me?”
“I know not your creed or what with you is honour, White Lord, but among us whom perhaps you think of small account, it is thought and held that there are times when a man or a woman, especially if they be highly placed, must do sacrifice for the good of the many who cling to them for guidance and for safety. This you and my daughter have done and therefore I honour both of you.”
“To what end is the sacrifice made?” I asked bitterly. “That one people may struggle for dominion over another people, no more.”