Upanqui examined it, holding it close to his rheumy eyes.
“It seems to be the same,” he said, “as I should know upon whose breast it lay until my first son was born. And yet who can be sure since such things may be copied?”
Then he handed back the image to Kari and after reflecting awhile, said:
“Bring hither the Mother of the Royal Nurses.”
Apparently this lady was in waiting, for in a minute she appeared before the throne, an old and withered woman with beady eyes.
“Mother,” said the Inca, “you were with the Coya (that is the Queen) who has been gathered to the Sun, when her boy was born, and afterwards nursed him for years. If you saw it, would you know his body again after he has come to middle age?”
“Aye, O Inca.”
“How, Mother?”
“By three moles, O Inca, which we women used to call Yuti, Quilla, and Chasca” (that is, the Sun, the Moon, and the planet Venus), “which were the marks of good fortune stamped by the gods upon the Prince’s back between the shoulders, set one above the other.”
“Man who call yourself Kari, are you willing that this old crone should see your flesh?” asked Upanqui.