“How now? A foe? What means this most unwelcome visit?”
Kemble.
By the time Olmedo and Beatriz had begun to retrace their steps to their homes, Tolta’s hesitation had vanished, and he prepared to seize them. If his anger had been aroused by the scene between Kiana and the maiden, he was now furious with rage and jealousy at the discovery of the mutual love of Olmedo and Beatriz. Of their motives and resolves he could appreciate nothing. He saw only that they loved. Their devout prayer had astonished him, but that over, his imagination acted as a slow-match to explode his passions.
At a sign from him, his warriors stealthily encircled the two, and stepping out suddenly from their retreat, seized and bound them before they could either resist or effectually cry out. Tolta, unable to repress his satisfaction, walked up to Olmedo and hissed in his ear, “Catholic maidens are not kept solely for the dalliance of Catholic priests. You shall soon see her fonder of an Aztec priest than she has been of you, most chaste monk,” and he leered upon him with such a demoniacal meaning,[157] as for an instant to paralyze the speech of Olmedo, who almost fancied the devil himself had bodily entrapped him.
Soon recognizing Tolta, he exclaimed, “What means this violence? Are you mad? Release us, or evil will come upon you.”
“Not so fast, monk, we have a journey to make first. I wish to introduce you to one who is as fond of Spanish blood as your countrymen are of Mexican.”
“Do with me as you will, but send back Beatriz to her brother. She has never injured you,” urged Olmedo.
“Beatriz is my prize, you are another’s,” said Tolta, with a look so full of dark insinuation that his captive shuddered,—not for himself, but for the maiden.
He would have again entreated, but Tolta fearing to lose time, ordered his men to gag him and drive him before them, while he whispered to Beatriz, “If you attempt an outcry, these infidels will kill Olmedo. His sole hope is in your keeping quiet.” This he said with cunning forethought, and it had the immediate effect he wished, to keep her silent, for he dreaded the influence of her voice quite as much as he feared any alarm she could give.
Compelling her to walk before him, the party passed in single file through the forest in the direction of the mountain, till they reached its outskirts, and came to the more scantily wooded uplands. Here they were joined by another and larger band,[158] bearing a “manele,” a sort of palanquin, into which Beatriz was placed, and borne rapidly on by four stout warriors, who were relieved each hour by others. In this way allowing no intercourse between the captives, but hurrying on at a dog trot by a circuitous course that took them away from the inhabited portions of the country, they made rapid progress for several hours without a halt or seeing any one.
Their course lay along the eastern and southern flank of Mauna Kea, which was then a wilderness, much broken up by precipitous ravines and irregular plains, dotted with groves of a beautiful species of laurel, whose pendant branches, with small dark green leaves intermingled with delicate white blossoms, all but swept the ground, affording by day a shade impervious to the sun, and by night not an unwelcome shelter. Not a word had been uttered by which either of the captives could get a clue to their probable fate. Each was most anxious for the other. At the same time both felt a certain degree of relief and even pleasure in their mutual presence, and had the choice to be free and apart been given to either, while thus uncertain as to their future, neither would have accepted it. Beatriz alone had some suspicion as to the object of Tolta in their abduction. Olmedo on the contrary, notwithstanding the dark hints of the Mexican, could not persuade himself that any real danger awaited either. Calm in his own soul-peace, he patiently bided a solution of the mystery.
As night approached, Tolta gave orders to encamp[159] under one of the laurel groves. Being now beyond immediate danger of a recapture, Olmedo’s gag was removed, and he was permitted to warm himself by the fire, which, at that altitude, was agreeable even in July. He was kept apart from Beatriz, each being under the charge of a distinct company of warriors. They were fierce, athletic men, quite capable of executing any orders their chief,—for such by the command of Pohaku, they now considered the Mexican,—might give, but at the same time they regarded their captives, especially Beatriz, more with curiosity than hostility. Her quiet, resigned demeanor, had made some impression upon them, and involuntarily they treated her with a degree of respect, that did not pass unnoticed by their crafty leader. He was not at all satisfied with himself, although his expedition promised such complete success. While away from Beatriz, he could plot against her honor and her brother’s life without compunction, but it was quite a different thing when she was an unresisting captive in his power. Her apparent feebleness and moral security were more formidable barriers than an armed defence. She had not once appealed to him by voice, but her mournful look, excited rather at his treachery than her danger, recalled to him those moments which, under other auspices, had impelled him to peril his life for hers. Besides, he thought of Pohaku, and feared the effect of her beauty on his sensual appetite. He might claim the woman as well as the man, and how could he resi............