"I choose death," he said, boldly, "if the price of life be the breaking of my troth and the surrender of my bride to another man. I am sorry for you, Zibalbay; and for you, Ignatio, my friend, I am still more sorry: but it is fate and not I that has brought these evils on you. If Ignatio here cannot forget his oath, how much less can I forget mine, which I have sworn with this lady. Moreover, worse fortune even than to–day's would come upon us if I did, seeing that such cowardice could breed no luck. Therefore, till the Lady Maya renounces me, for good or for evil, in death or in life, I will cleave to her."
"And in death or in life I will cleave to you, beloved," she said. "Take such vengeance as you wish upon us, my father, yes, if you wish, give over this man, to whom my heart drew me across the mountains and the desert, to die at the hands of Tikal; but know that he will hold me faster dead than he did while he was alive, for into the valley of death I shall follow him swiftly."
Now at last the rage of Zibalbay broke loose, and it was terrible. Rising from his seat he shook his clenched hands above his daughter's head and cursed her, till in her fear she shrank away from him to her lover's breast.
"As with my last breath," he cried, "I pray that the curse of your gods, of your country, of your ancestors, and of me, your father, may rest upon you and your children. May your desire turn to ashes in your mouth, and may death rob you of its fruit; may your heart break by inches for remorse and sorrow, and your name become a hissing and a shame. Oh! I seem to see the future, and I tell you, daughter, that you shall win him for whose sake you brought your father to death and ruin. By fraud shall you win him, and for a while he shall lie at your side, and this is the price that shall be asked of you, and that you shall pay—the doom of your race, and its destruction at your hands―"
He paused, gasping for breath, and Maya fell at his knees, sobbing:
"Oh! father, unsay those words and spare me. Have you no pity for a woman's heart?"
"Ay!" he said, "so much pity as you have for my sorrows and grey hair. Why should I spare you, girl, who have not spared me, your father. My curse is spoken, and I will add to it, that it shall break your heart at last, ay! and the heart of that man who has robbed me of your duty and your love."
Then suddenly he ceased speaking, his eyes grew empty, he stretched out his arms and fell heavily to the floor.
Chapter XVIII
The Plot
Springing forward, but too late to save him, the señor and I lifted Zibalbay from the ground and laid him on a couch. Peeping over our shoulders, Maya caught sight of his ghastly face and the foam upon his lips.
"Oh, he is dead," she moaned; "my father is dead, and he died cursing me."
"No," said the señor, "he is not dead, for his heart stirs. Bring water, Maya."
She obeyed, and for hard upon two hours we struggled to restore his sense, but in vain; life lingered indeed, but we could not stir him from his stupor. At length, as we were resting, wearied with our fruitless labour, the gates opened and Tikal came again.
"What now?" he asked, seeing the form of Zibalbay stretched upon the couch. "Does the old man sleep?"
"Yes, he sleeps," answered the señor, "and I think that he will wake no more. The words he spoke to you to–day are coming true, and that which you took from him by force will soon be yours by right."
"No," answered Tikal, "by right it will be the Lady Maya's yonder, though by force it may remain mine, unless, indeed, she gives it to me of her own free will. But say, how did this come about?"
Now I broke in hastily, fearing lest the señor should tell too much, and thus bring some swift and awful fate upon himself.
"He was worn out with the fatigue of our journey and the excitement of yesterday. After you had left he began to talk of your proposals, and suddenly was taken with this fit. These matters are not for me to speak of, who am but a prisoner in a strange land; still, lord, it will not look well if he who once was cacique of this city dies here and unattended, for then people may say that you have murdered him. Have you no doctors who can be summoned to minister to him, for, without drugs, or even a bleeding–knife, we have done all we can do."
"Murdered him! That they will say in any case. Yes, there are doctors here, and the best and greatest of them is Mattai, my father–in–law. I will send him. But, Maya, before I go, have you no word for me?"
Maya, who was seated by the table, her face buried in her hands, looked up and said:
"Is your heart stone that you can trouble me in such an hour? When my father is recovered, or dead, I will answer you, and not before."
"So be it, Lady," he said, "till then I wait. And now I must get hence, for there may be trouble in the city when this news reaches it."
A while passed, and Mattai appeared before us, followed by one who carried his scales and medicines. Without speaking, he came to where Zibalbay lay, and examined him by the light of a lamp. Then he poured medicine down his throat, and waited as though he expected to see him rise, but he neither rose nor stirred.
"A bad case," he said. "I fear that he will awake no more. How came he thus?"
"Do you wish to know?" asked Maya, speaking for the first time. "Then bid your attendant stand back, and I will tell you. My father yonder was smitten down while he cursed me in his rage."
"And why did he curse you, Lady?"
"For this reason: While we wandered in the wilderness, Tikal, my cousin and my betrothed, took a wife, your daughter Nahua, who was crowned with him as Lady of the Heart. But it seems, Mattai, that though he gave your daughter place and power, he gave her no love, for to–day this son–in–law of yours came to my father, and in the presence of us all offered to set him in his lawful place again and to suffer him to carry out his schemes, whatever they might be, if I would but consent to become his wife."
"To become his wife!" said Mattai, in amazement. "How could you become his wife when he is married? Can there then be two Ladies of the Heart?"
"No," answered Maya quietly, "but the proposal of Tikal, my cousin, is, that he should either put away or kill your daughter—and you with her, Mattai—in order that he may set me in her place."
Now when Mattai heard this his quick eyes flashed, and his very beard seemed to bristle with rage.
"He proposed that! He dared to propose that!" he gasped. "Oh! let him have a care. I set him up, and perchance I can pull him down again. Continue, Lady."
"He proposed it, and my father agreed to the offer, for, knowing that you have plotted against him, he had little care for the honour and safety of you or of your house, Mattai. But if my father accepted, I refused, seeing that it is not my wish to have more to do with Tikal. Then my father cursed me, and while he cursed was stricken down."
"You say it is not your wish to marry Tikal, Lady. Is it, then, your wish to marry any other man?"
"Yes," she answered, letting her eyes fall, "I love this white lord here, whom you name Son of the Sea, and I would become his wife. I would become his wife," she went on after a pause, "but, Mattai, Tikal is very strong, and it may be, unless I can find help elsewhere, that in order to save the life of the man I love, of his friend and mine, Ignatio, and my own, I shall be forced into the arms of Tikal. But now Tikal has asked me for my answer, and I have told him that I will give it when my father is recovered or dead. Perhaps it will be for you to say what the answer shall be, for alone and in prison I am not strong enough to stand against Tikal. Say, now, do the people love me well enough to depose Tikal and set me in my father's place, should he die?"