“Don’t worry. Haven’t I recommended you to be prudent? But we need to try something to recover the upper hand. Stay alert, ready to intervene in case of need. As for me, I’m going to talk to these fellows and inspire them with a salutary terror, borrowing the voice of a divinity.”
Having pronounced those enigmatic words, Jacques left his companions and, creeping through the jungle, drew away in the direction of the little ruined temple.
“As long as nothing happens to him!” said Robert.
“Bah! He’s capable of taking on a band of Redskins. We’re here to bring him help in case of danger.”
It was already daylight, although the sun was still hidden behind the mountains.
The Indians had gone into the temple and two of them were dragging a black llama to the foot of the crude idol. As if it divined the fate that awaited it, the animal threw itself backwards, curving its long neck back over its spine and turning its head. Its long eyes were full of fear and it was bleating plaintively, but it was pushed on to the slab that formed the pedestal of the statue.
There were a dozen Quichuas assembled in the temple. They were almost all specimens of the pure race, with features of a classical beauty. Their garments consisted of light brown culottes and red ponchos. They were shod in sandals and coiffed in black monteras ornamented with shiny metal plaques. The underside of the brim of their hats was lined with green or red, whose bright shades harmonized with their bronzed complexion. The gaze of their large and shiny eyes had something wild about it.
When the sun appeared over the mountains, they all turned toward the doorway, orientated eastwards, and invoked the Lord, Inti, who spread heat and light over the world.
Then they cut the llama’s throat in front of the idol.
“Inti, give us strength and valor, turn away from our sanctuaries the accursed strangers who have profaned and devastated the land of our ancestors.”
Jacques knew very well how that scene would finish; he was sufficiently informed of the ancient customs of the Quichuas.
Although the majority of the Indians of modern Peru, who still form the majority of the population, have ostensibly adopted the Catholic religion, they generally maintain their ancient superstitions, and Jacques had heard it said that some of them remained faithful to the religion of the Incas, but he had never had the opportunity to witness a sacrifice in honor of the sun.
Having quit his friends, he had slipped behind the ruins of the temple in order to carry out the bold plan he had conceived. He had succeeded in squirming through the plants in the hole that he had noticed at the base of the wall, which communicated, as he had supposed, with the interior of the statue. Doubtless there had once been a second chamber there where the priests prepared their mysteries.
A man of Jacques’ height could easily lodge himself inside the crude idol, but as it had not been used for centuries, it was cluttered with all kinds of detritus brought by animals, spiders’ webs and vegetable debris. The archeologist required a certain courage to penetrate into the cavity in spite of the sticky dirt on the walls and the vermin he could sense there swarming all around him.
When he had hoisted himself up to the open mouth of the statue he was, at least, able to see and hear through that narrow window what was happening in the temple.
Now, he said to himself, the rascals will take the llama away, roast it on a big fire and have a feast in honor of the divinity. But it’s a matter of reserving that beautiful item for our table. It will furnish us with a supply of meat that will enable us to envisage without dread a long sojourn far from any civilized center.
The Indians had begun to chant a kind of hymn to the sun.
“Lord, it is you who warm and illuminate us, you who render or fields and pastures fertile, you who causes our trees to fruit and our herds to increase, you who sends us the rain and fine weather. Lord, you make the tour of the world once a day, to see what each of us might need, and your gaze is present everywhere….”
A voice rose up, cavernous and terrible, crying in Quichua: “Perfidious ones! You have betrayed those that the Lord had taken under his protection, those he was guiding toward your temples and your sacred cities in order to show them the grandeur of your ancient civilization and the sublime beauty of your beliefs. No longer have the audacity to invoke him after that blow! You have prevented the triumph of the truth, delayed the resurrection of our empire and the return of the happy times in which you lived under the clement law of Inti.”
At the first severe words that had escaped the lips of the statue, the Redskins had abruptly fallen silent, looking at one another in bewilderment, and as the idol continued to heap reproaches upon them, they were gripped by panic. They ran to the door, fighting to get through it, and disappeared into the brushwood.
One of them, however, less frightened and perhaps incredulous, wanted to load the llama on to his shoulders before fleeing. That was not to Jacques’ liking—so the idol with the mysterious voice began roaring even more loudly:
“Leave the llama, son of a dog! Will you have the temerity to take back from the Lord the victim that you have offered to him?”
The man hesitated momentarily, and then, terror-stricken in his turn, ran away to rejoin his companions.
“May Catequil crush you, vagabond!” the state roared.
On hearing the invocation of Catequil, the god of thunder, the Indian increased his pace; he flew, and when he had caught up with his companions he dragged them further away, along with their herd, in a hectic flight.
In the abandoned temple, meanwhile, the idol emitted a loud burst of laughter.
V
The explorers spent the day in the ruins of the tambo in order to butcher the llama so adroitly conquered by Jacques, cooking and curing the best pieces.
For a long time now, they were sheltered from hunger. They could each carry enough meat to last for a week; they would merely have to complete their menu by adding fruits and tubers that they could collect along the route. In addition, they left an abundant reserve of cured meat in the tambo, carefully enveloped in dry grass and put under a heap of stones, safe from the voracity of wild animals. They would find it there on their return, and perhaps draw from it at need.
Robert and Pierre laughed a great deal as they listened to the story of the ruse that Jacques had employed to put the Indians to flight. They were particularly amused by the final episode, when the indignant idol had shouted at the Redskin to leave the sacrificed llama where it was.
“Can you believe,” said Jacques, “that the fellow intended to take the animal away? And I would have gone to all that trouble for nothing!”
He had emerged from the statue unrecognizable, his garments soiled, his face and hands the color of soot. Now, after a thorough wash, all the more difficult because water was scarce, he had resumed a human appearance.
His ruse had had a double purpose: to procure the members of the mission the food they lacked and to inspire respect for the archeologists in the Indians by placing them under the protection of the ancient gods of the Incas.
The travelers hoped, therefore, that after that, the deserters would not dare to attack them and would perhaps even be disposed to help them by resuming their functions in their regard.
After a second night spent in the ruins, they set forth again, penetrating deeper into the mountains. They felt sure of themselves now that they had good reserves of food, but there is no advantage that is not paid or with some inconvenience; the burdens they had to bear weighed them down and slowed their pace.
At midday they arrived at a fork in the narrow but clearly marked path that they had been following since the morning. Two rugged gorges converged at the place the explorers had reached. They offered fantastic perspectives to the gaze of abrupt red and gray cliffs clad in hanging vegetation, heaps of rocks from which clumps of verdure sprang forth here and there, and summits that seemed to be trying to climb, step by step, to the heavens.
“Let’s eat,” sai
d Robert. “While eating we can reflect, and try to decide which way it would be better for us to head first.”
For a temporary camp, the three friends chose a small natural platform that overlooked the path and as shadowed by a crag.
“While you set the table,” Jacques said to his companions, “I’ll try to pick up the tracks of the troop of Indians that preceded us. I think, in fact, that we have every chance of reaching our goal if we choose the path they’ve taken.”
“All right,” said Robert. “You can even visit both branches of the path—you go one way and Pierre the other. But don’t go too far, and beat a retreat at the slightest appearance of danger. It would be very clumsy of us to let ourselves get separated and to be unable to help one another. Take a revolver each, and I’ll keep the rifle. If one of us fires, the others will hasten to rejoin him—and even if all goes well, be back here within an hour at the latest, no matter what.”
So, while Robert made the preparations for lunch, Pierre and Jacques set out to reconnoiter the issues of the two narrow gorges that opened into the canyon.
Jacques had only kept his revolver, his water-flask, slung over his shoulder, which he hoped to have an opportunity to refill with fresh spring-water and, wound around his waist, the cord of which he had made such ingenious use to reestablish the bridge cut by the Indians. He had taken of his poncho in order to render himself more agile.
He walked a few hundred meters along the path at the bottom of the narrow gorge into which he had moved, seeking traces of the passage of the Redskins, but without ceasing to keep a careful eye on his surroundings, in order that he would not be surprised by any ambush.
It was obvious that men and llamas had recently passed along the path, but there was no firm evidence that it had been the previous day or the day before, and Jacques wanted to find more conclusive indications, so the archeologist walked for half an hour with the most extreme precaution, and then thought about returning. He calculated that he had covered some two kilometers, and that was already more than prudence recommended.
He therefore turned round and was about to retrace his steps when he noticed, some distance away, a man climbing the flank of the rock by means of a kind of natural stairway formed by projections and fissures in the stone.
So far as Jacques could judge from where he was standing, the individual in question, with his poncho and his broad flat hat, had to be a Quichua herdsman.
The explorer had taken cover behind a clump of aloes and watched, revolver in hand. He was intent on not losing sight of the man, who was hoisting himself up the cliff face, and whom the brushwood partly hid at times.
There was undoubtedly a secret passage up there.
Suddenly, Jacques uttered a cry, immediately stifled; a piece of fabric had fallen over his head, while his revolver was snatched from his hand before he had time to make use of it.
In the blink of an eye he was rolled up in a poncho, lifted up and carried away.
He attempted to struggle, but in vain. Vigorous hands paralyzed his resistance, and he was incapable of making a cry heard; his voice scarcely emerged in feeble groans.
Rapidly recognizing that he would not achieve anything by force, Jacques constrained himself to keep calm and think. In such circumstances it was necessary above all to take account of the direction in which he was being taken.
The poncho in which he had been rolled was tightly wound, but it did not prevent him from breathing. His abductors were holding him firmly, but without brutalizing him. He therefore retained all his mental lucidity.
He was being carried at a rapid and regular pace, which it would not have been possible to sustain over uneven ground. Jacques concluded in consequence that the band by which he had been surprised, doubtless composed of the men in whom he had been able to inspire such fear two days before by making the idol speak, were continuing to follow the path traced along the floor of the gorge. The man that Jacques had seen climbing the cliff could not have been part of the same company, unless his climb was a ruse devised in order to distract his attention and give the others the opportunity to jump him.
He was certain, at any rate, that the abductors were taking their prisoner into the depths of the gorge and not toward the issue where Robert was waiting.
The leader of the mission and Pierre would not take long to set out in search of their vanished companion. As long as the band remained on the path, the trail should not be difficult to pick up.
It was difficult for Jacques to measure the passage of time, which his critical situation caused to seem particularly long. He estimated that he band must have been marching for between three and four hours when his porters finally halted, set him on his feet and removed the poncho in which he was wrapped.
Dazzled and dazed, Jacques stood there unsteadily for a moment or two, blinking.
He had been set free, but he could see that he was surrounded by a dozen men, and was not insensate enough to try to fight or escape them. He was unarmed, and could not compare with the Indians in the matter of agility.
As he gradually recovered the use of his faculties, he was better able to make out the physiognomy of the bandits, and recognized among them some of those who had been attached to the service of the mission and had abandoned it. He scanned them with a haughty gaze.
“It was you,” he said, “in whom we put our confidence, and who behind in our regard like bandits. Not content with having deserted the mission, you’ve attacked me by surprise and carried me away I know not where. What do you want with me, then?”
While speaking he had observed a small house with a thatched roof behind some guava-trees. The men who surrounded him did not reply to his criticism, but another emerged from the house and advanced toward the explorer. He was better dressed than his companions, with a veritable elegance. He wore a costume of red cloth ornamented with fringes, and his montera was ornamented with gilded plaques and lined under the rim in red. He had aristocratic and regular features and a proud gait.
It was in correct Spanish that he addressed Jacques,
“Forgive us, Señor, for having employed slightly rude means in your regard, but it is your own fault; you were wrong to want to penetrate no matter what into a region that is forbidden to foreigners.”
“Forbidden!” exclaimed Jacques. “By whom? I have an official authorization from the Peruvian government, and I’m not aware that I’ve crossed the frontier of the State.”
“No, but there are reserved territories that are not dependent on Lima or Cuzco, in which your authorization has no value.”
“We’ll see about that. I shall appeal to the French consul.”
The Indian smiled disdainfully. “The intervention of the French consul won’t give you the right to penetrate into private property. One can only reach here by a single road, by traversing a bridge that care had been taken to sever in order to prevent access. Who gave you permission to reestablish that bridge?”
“I think it’s always praiseworthy to rebuild a bridge destroyed by bandits.”
“The master of a domain has the right to dispose of it as he sees fit, and those who obey him on his own land cannot be regarded as bandits.”
“Are you the master of his domain, then?” Jacques demanded, ironically. “Do you claim to be the legitimate owner of such a vast territory?”
The Indian frowned. Anger caused his shining pupils to vacillate, but serenity reappeared immediately in his face, and it was in a calm voice that he replied:
“What is the point of arguing, Señor? We will gain nothing by saying disagreeable things to one another. You cannot have the pretention to oppose me, surrounded as I am, and I invite you instead to accept the hospitality that I am ready to offer you. My name is José Alvarez. I assume that you must be hungry and that you would be glad to share my meal.”
Already convinced that he would achieve nothing by violence, Jacques considered the Peruvian with perplexity. He resolved to imitate him, to contain his indignation and to empl
oy cunning.
Intelligence has been given to humans to substitute for strength, he told himself. This is the moment to remember that.
He suddenly changed his expression, adopting a smile, inclined slightly, and said aloud, in a good-humored tone: “Although my sentiments might seem to you to be devoid of spontaneity, it’s not without pleasure, believe me, that I accept your hospitality. You’re right to say that I’m very hungry, and I’m ready to do honor to your menu. Permit me, however, to ask you one question regarding your intentions toward my traveling companions?”
The Indian made an evasive gesture. “If they are obstinate in following you, they will not find anything ahead of them except the wilderness, unless….”
“Unless what?”
The Indian turned away abruptly.
“Let us go eat, Señor Lasserre.”
VI
“You won’t be surprised, Señor Alvarez, if I tell you that your attitude in my regard appears to me to be quite enigmatic.”
The Indian smiled, without making any reply. He was sitting opposite his guest, and invited him with a gesture to serve himself from a dish of humitas that a young Indian woman had just brought.
Jacques looked curiously at the curious foodstuff, which hunger caused him to find appetizing.
“It is a mixture of maize flour with fat and shredded meat that is divided up into pellets, enveloped in maize leaves and cooked in boiling water,” Alvarez explained. “My cook has a particular talent for the confection of that national dish. You will also taste crepes irrigated with melted caramel shortly, of which you must tell me your opinion.”
Jacques did honor to the humitas and the chicha, a kind of maize beer the color of amber, sharp to the taste.
He was annoyed, however, at being unable to obtain any response to his questions.
Where was this José Alvarez trying to get to? What did this mixture of violence and affability signify? If the Indian had had the intention of having Jacques and his friends murdered, nothing would have prevented him from carrying out his crime without further ado. It would have been easy for him to make the bodies of the explorers disappear. The Indian auxiliaries of the mission would be suspected, but it would be impossible to set a hand on them.
An International Mission to the Moon Page 24