CHAPTER XV THE FEAST OF RAYMI
"Well, anyhow, our three day fast is over," Cliff yawned as Bill shookhim awake, long before dawn. He was sleepy; but he was more hungry thanhe was drowsy. They had decided to carry out all of the rites of this,the greatest festival of the Inca religion; it began with three fastdays which were now past.
"I wonder what has happened to Mr. Whitley," Tom said as he drew on hisrobe.
"I hope he comes back before the ceremony gets to the place where wehave to try to stop the sacrifice," Nicky whispered. "I don't knowwhether the Inca's son can stop it or not, even if Cliff reminds him ofhis promise."
"Nor I," said Bill. "His pa would probably back him up to give comradeCliff any gold or maybe," and his eyes would have been seen to betwinkling in a better light than that of their torch, "or, maybe, adozen wives for the youth with the shining locks."
"Wives!" Cliff said it disgustedly. "What would I ask for wives for?"
"You might ask for Caya, anyway," Nicky said mischievously. The girl whohad been assigned to serve Nicky had transferred all her attention toCliff since Nicky had whispered, against Bill's advice, the hint thatChasca would save her sister from the sacrifice.
"She does act like a girl getting ready to 'love, honor and disobey' herlord and master," chuckled Bill.
Cliff shrugged his shoulders. She was a nice Indian girl, but his mindwas not set on girls. He looked forward to the moment when he could seehis father. "I'll ask for her for you, Nicky," he challenged, "you seemto be broken hearted about her."
Nicky stopped just in time--he had been about to fling a golden cup atCliff: Challcuchima came in after knocking at the doorway of theanteroom in which they slept.
"All is ready," he greeted, seriously, "come."
They followed him into the great square. The dawn had not yet come: justa faint streak of light gray cut the darkness in the East.
"The greatest crowd I ever saw here!" exclaimed Nicky, "Look how theypack the square!" He was right. With torches that lit the place withweird gleams and deep shadows, probably every human being who could walkwas there. Challcuchima led the party to a spot just beyond the crowd,in front of the Inca's home: there they were greeted seriously and in alow tone by the high priest and the Inca.
"I don't see the stranger--the fellow we think is Sancho Pizzara," Cliffwhispered. Bill shook his head.
"I wonder what he came to tell them--and where he is?" Nicky said underhis breath. Since no one knew he got no reply.
The torches were gradually extinguished as the stragglers filled everyavailable bit of room. Gradually the light was growing in the East; frompale gray it went through the slow changes of dull green, then brightergreen, altering to greenish yellow and brighter lemon; then dashes ofcrimson came, like lances of fire flung across the sky.
A low murmur began; constantly it increased in volume and in eagerness;for it was a chant of triumph and greeting to the orb of day which theyworshipped as the visible sign that their god smiled upon them.Watching, Cliff saw the first rim of the sun peep up over the peaks.There rose a vast, throaty roar of triumph and the mass of people bowedthemselves toward the symbol of their deity.
"What would they do if it turned out cloudy?" Nicky wondered.
"They would take it as a bad sign for the coming year," Bill told him.He looked around anxiously. "I wish I knew where John Whitley keepshimself."
"So do I!" Tom whispered.
Challcuchima touched Cliff's arm. They were silent.
Along the great square moved the Inca, slowly, majestically. He was cladin a gorgeous robe of the beautiful woven fleece of the vicuna, withgorgeously dyed patterns of vivid colors running through it; on his headwas the borla, that crimson fringe carrying two feathers from the sacredbird, the caraquenque--sacred to the purpose of supplying feathers forthe Inca's head-dress. He wore many rich ornaments, laden with jewels,mostly emeralds, set in lavishly cut and worked golden shapes; from eachearlobe hung the massive ornaments which, in years of wear, had drawnhis earlobes down almost to his shoulders. Challcuchima was dressed asbeautifully but he wore his yellow fringed and tasseled head-dress andhis ears still were pierced by the golden bodkins which had been putthere during his own festival, to remain until the flesh healed and leftholes for the ornaments he might wear later on.
"We are bound for the Temple of the Sun," Bill told them. It proved tobe true: outside the great temple, its golden cornice glowing brightlyin the newly risen sun's rays, the procession halted. The people becamesilent. The priests and nobles drew aside and so did all but the Incaand Huamachaco, the high priest. Removing their sandals these twoproceeded into the Temple of the Sun. No others were permitted in thatsacred edifice except for purposes of cleaning and certain rites.
"I wish you'd look!" whispered Tom. From their stand they could seethrough the wide, open doorway. Within, the level rays of the sun madeit very bright. Such marvels of gold, of ornamentation, such glorioustapestries and vivid colors had never before greeted the eyes of thefour who stared, awed.
At the extreme end, where it faced the rising sun, was set a huge goldenplacque, a plate of gold many feet square. Its center was so carved andornamented that it presented a rude semblance of a human face, eyes,nose, mouth: from the sides of its circle spread in every directiongolden rays. It was a marvel of workmanship and of treasure.
After the Inca and his companion had performed certain rites they cameout and more chants marked the resumption of the processional. Theymoved only a short way off, stopping again. Where they paused was analtar, a sinister object to Cliff and his comrades: they shuddered.
The chief priest advanced with some chant on his lips and began to use astrange curved mirror with which he concentrated the rays of the hot sunupon some prepared material on the altar.
"They have no fires burning during the fast days," Bill told hisfriends, "now the priest kindles the sacred fire with his mirror andsome of it is given to certain Virgins of the Sun to guard. It is mightyserious for them if they ever dare to let the fire go out during thecoming year."
The priest succeeded in securing smoking embers and then a blaze. Heturned and made a sign and as he did so Cliff grew tense.
From a little distance a figure was led, heavily covered with whitegarments and a long, tissue-like veil.
Cliff caught Challcuchima's arm and gripped it tightly.
"What--what?" he stammered, and could not finish. He knew.
Challcuchima spoke quietly. They seldom made human sacrifices, to Raymi,but their corn was being destroyed; they hoped by this unusual proof oftheir religious ardor to placate the angry god.
"Remember," Cliff's voice shook and he could hardly recall the dialecthe must use, "when we wrestled--you made a promise!"
Challcuchima seemed to guess what was coming. He drew back.
"I claim that promise, now--fulfil your promise," gasped Cliff.
The high priest heard the raised voice. He paused in the work he didwith the fire, and walked quickly to Challcuchima. The Inca, also,turned and frowned at Cliff.
Cliff, his dialect forgotten, spoke in English.
"You shan't!" he cried, his head high, arms thrown upward as if he wereveritably the young god he represented to them. "It is criminal! Chally,you promised me anything I'd ask. I ask for that innocent girl's life.Spare it--or----" He made a menacing gesture.
The high priest glowered and the Inca scowled. Challcuchima drew furtheraway from Cliff.
"What does he say?" he asked of the priest.
Cliff, in vivid sunlight, stared at Bill. To his amazement, Bill wasscratching his left ear with his middle finger!