Tristan said that he and the woman had not only fled secretly, defying the wrath of the woman’s father, but had also caused the black-robed one to conduct a rite over their union, according to his customs rendering it permanent and unbreakable. I later learned that Tristan already had a wife somewhere, notwithstanding that Yuropians are supposed to be monogamous. But that is no affair of ours.
“Sir,” said Tristan, “could you let me have something to eat? We are all half-starved, for the Indians” (as the Espanyans ridiculously call the redskins, although these live halfway round the world from the true Indians) “along the route had fled, taking all their food supplies with them before we arrived. Those cabrones—”
Falaya could not translate that word, but questioning revealed that it meant a eunuch. Notwithstanding the high rank of the eunuchs of the Imperial Court, the term is a deadly insult among round-eyes.
Whilst this person was getting Captain Tristan’s meaning straightened out, a Hitchiti of my personal guard thrust his head into the tent. “O General!” he cried. “Our scouts report a large force of Nanipacana approaching, in full war paint.”
“Kwanyin save us!” I exclaimed, rising. “Sound the alarms!”
This time things went more smoothly despite the war paint. The new force was led by Chief Imathla, with whom I had had dealings and so knew personally. I had been trying to persuade him voluntarily to place himself under the protection of the Son of Heaven, to save us the necessity of conquering him. So, when Imathla thrust his spear into the ground and laid his skull-cracker beside it, I signaled him to advance.
When he and I returned to my headquarters tent, the round-eye Tristan still stood there, leaning on his walking stick and with his free hand hungrily gnawing an ear of maize. At the sight of him, Chief Imathla burst into a tirade. Had he had his weapons to hand, I would not have wagered a brass cash on Tristan’s life. The round-eye shouted back. When the polemics ran down, I said to Falaya:
“Ask whether this speech refers to the chief’s daughter.”
At length Falaya reported: “He say aye, it does. This round-eye carry off his daughter, delight of his age, and chief set out in pursuit. When his war party near this place, they come upon daughter Mihilayo wandering, lost, in forest, with some Piachi whom Espanyans enslave and now flee back home. From her chief learn that round-eye and his men fight great general and lose. He say he happy to see scoundrel captive, and he know some excellent tortures to dispose of him.”
Tristan, to whom his own interpreter had been feeding a translation, visibly paled beneath his swarthy skin at the mention of torture. Then he squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and assumed an attitude of defiance, as captive redskin warriors are wont to do at the prospect of being burned alive by their foes. I could not help a twinge of admiration for his courage, barbarian though he was. He asked:
“Where be she now?”
Imathla replied: “Know that she is safe under her father’s protection. Where that be is no affair of yours.”
“She is my lawful wedded wife! That is whose affair it be! Fetch her here!”
I suggested: “That might be a sensible thought, 0 Chief, to unravel this knot.”
“Never!” said Imathla. “You know not, O General, the depths of evil of these palefaces. Before they passed through our tribal lands, they had descended upon the Piachi tribe, whom they enslaved to furnish porters for their supplies. When some Piachi defied the palefaces’ commands, the invaders seized them, chopped off their hands and feet, and cast them out to die. Others they strung up by the hands and affixed weights to their feet until they expired, or forced water down their throats until they burst inside.”
“Why should they go to so much trouble? If one wishes to kill a man, it is quicker and easier to shoot him or chop off his head.”
“They have a passion for that pretty yellow metal that we get in ornaments by trade from other tribes. They would not believe that there were no hidden stores of this metal, and they thought that by such treatment they could force the Piachi to reveal its whereabouts. Of course the Piachi are not Nanipacana and so not real human beings, or we should have felt obliged to avenge them.
“Twenty years ago the accursed Ernando de Soto came through, treating those who gainsaid him in this same ferocious manner. He also brought strange diseases amongst the tribes, whereof over half of us perished. Had our towns been still fully populated, O General, you would not have found it so easy to pass amongst us unscathed.”
The round-eye was hopping up and down on his unwounded leg, indicating an eagerness to say his say. I told Falaya to give Tristan my permission. The barbarian shouted:
“These savages are too stupid and ignorant to appreciate the benefits we offer! They refuse to understand that by accepting our religion they may live to serve us, as is only right for such lowly folk, in return for the boons we bestow. Then, after death, they shall enjoy an eternity of pleasures in Heaven, praising the true God.”
“Is that all you do in this Heaven?” I asked.
“What more is needed? We sit on clouds, play the arpa, and sing the praises of God.”
“Forever?”
“Aye, forever.”
This person commented: “Your Yuropian God must get bored with incessant flattery. Our gods are more rational; they are busy keeping records and otherwise carrying out their duties in the Heavenly bureaucracy.”
When this had been translated, Tristan gave a contemptuous snort. But he forbore to argue theology, for which I doubt whether either of us had enough book knowledge. I regretted that the bonze Xiao-jin was no longer with us, having set out to return to his monastery in civilization. He would have argued spiritual matters with the barbarian all day and all the following night. Tristan said:
“I still demand my wife! I rescued her when two of my colonists would have raped her and then slain her for her golden earrings.”
“All the demands in the world will not get the poor thing,” said Chief Imathla. “She is well quit of you.”
“Then fetch her here and let her choose her own fate!” cried Tristan.
“Ridiculous!” cried Imathla. Those twain began shouting again, until I roared them to silence. I said: “Come, honorable Chief, tell me: Is the woman where we can reach her?”
“She is under the protection of my personal guard,” growled Imathla.
“Well, am I to understand that you wish her to be happy?”
“Aye, O General. That is my dearest wish, since her mother died of one of those diseases these accursed palefaces brought into our land.”
“Then why not fetch her here, set the alternatives before her, and let her decide? If after that she be not happy, the fault will not be yours.”
Imathla growled a bit, but after further argument I talked him round. The fact that he was alone in my tent, with rifle-bearing Hitchiti standing by, may have influenced his decision.
So Imathla put his head out the tent and called to one of his warriors. After some converse in Nanipacana, the warrior set off at a run. Whilst we waited, I caused tea to be brewed and offered to our guests. Imathla drank his, while Tristan took a mouthful, made a face, and returned the cup to the Hitchiti who had brought it.
At length the warrior returned, leading a young Nanipacana female. When she entered the tent, Tristan limped forward and seized her in an embrace. He performed that gesture of affection used by Yuropians and Arabs, of pressing the lips against the esteemed one.