“Ka-yemo is Capitan––not shaman. He speaks your words––”
“And the other one?”
“Other one!”––The face of Yahn darkened, her lips grew straight in a hard line––her bosom heaved. Tahn-té had seen and known her abasement––also her name had been among those put aside––always she would hate Tahn-té,––“The other one is the man of the feast. He has danced where other men fall dead in the dance. He does not fall dead––not anything makes him dead! He holds snakes like other men hold rabbits.” (She was watching warily the faces of her listeners and saw them shrink in distaste)––her own face grew keen and bright with cunning. “It is true––like this he takes the snake”––she held a wand of willow about her neck, and then held it in both hands above her head––“like this––and calls it ‘brother of the sands.’ He calls eagles down from the clouds to him––other birds, too”––and her eyes took on a look of fear––“and 141 in dark nights––no––I can not say more words! It is bad medicine to say words of witches while witches are yet alive.”
“He was taught by the padres to be Christian:––yet turns back to the false gods, and––is a sorcerer?” demanded Maestro Diego. “You have your work plainly cut out for you, Eminence!” and he turned to Padre Vicente––“A leader who has been granted the light, yet seeks darkness, is but a burning brand for the pit!”
“But”––suggested the lad Chico––who spoke but rarely in the face of the company, “is there not white magic as well as the magic of the darkness? Did not the saints of the church deal openly in the white magic of their god? This pretty woman plainly has only hate––or fear––of the sorcerer. Does the dame strike any of you as being so saintly as to be above guile?”
The men laughed at that, and Don Ruy clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well reasoned, Chico––and frankly said! We will see the sorcerer at his work before we pass judgement. But the lady will love you little!”
“The less ill luck to me for that!”––retorted the lad. “Her eyes are all for Juan Gonzalvo––and for your Excellency!”
“I am sworn for my soul’s sake to the troth of a silken scarf and a mad woman somewhere in Mexico,” decided Don Ruy whimsically. “If I am to live a celibate,––as our good padre imposes, it is well to cheat myself with a lady love across the border,––even though she gave me no favors beyond a poet’s verse and a battered head.”
“A lady––beat you?” queried Chico in amazement 142 looking at the strong figure of Don Ruy––“and though mad, you give to her––faithfulness?”