ismenin | Inca 2 : Scourge of the Sun 15

Everyone is meeting our Dom this weekend - so I thought I'd put my pics up, too. Very few have seen these, I think. He is sweet...and hot!

Dom n Me at C4

I wonder if there'll be anyone here reading this this weekend? but even if there was only one, I'd post it. I know not everyone who reads a fic comments on it, but it's enough for me that it is read. It takes ages for me to do this, typing with one finger, but I do enjoy it! Hope you do, too. Hugs flist! xxx

Thanks as always to

ladysunrope for her careful beta!

Part 15 - The Questioning (1)

They walked on in silence. Indeed, Dom thought, there was nothing to be said. Either their story would hold, or it would not.

Amaru had been told what to do and say, and the absence of Rimac and Yupanque easily explained by telling the truth about the boy's accident - except for where it had taken place, for Captain Sancho might remember that there had been one more of them than there now was, even if he did not remember the faces.

Dom thought, however, that he might also remember Lizhe; the assault upon him by one of the Captain’s men may have stayed in the soldier’s mind. As they moved forward, Dom fervently hoped that the man was not here, with the troop; if he still wanted Lizhe...

As they entered the camp, Dom heard Will's gasp of dismay. It was a huge site, with dozens of tents in rows and hundreds of soldiers of varying degree going about their appointed business.

There were also Inca men engaged in various tasks, and a few women, too, fetching and carrying. One man was being beaten with a stick, his assailant shouting at him that he was a lazy good-for-nothing. Dom could feel Lizhe's anger through his back.

Captain Sancho dismissed the troop, and, dismounting, handed his horse to a trooper and led the group to one of the larger tents.

"Do you wait here, Fathers, and I will see if the Captain General can see you now," he smiled at Dom and Will. "You..." he pointed to a soldier standing outside the tent. "Take these two servants to a tent suitable for the fathers, and leave them there. Remember to show them first where to get food and supplies for their masters - go!"

He gestured the man away, and Amaru and Lizhe followed him. Lizhe had half-turned his head as if to look at Dom, but obviously decided against it. Captain Sancho entered the tent, and Dom's eyes followed Lizhe until he disappeared from sight.

It was a few minutes before the captain returned and ushered them inside. There had been no opportunity to talk to Will, as there were two soldiers guarding the flap of the tent as if it were a king's palace.

It was a large tent, furnished with a huge desk and there were several armchair and camp stools scattered about. A table and bed stood against the canvas wall, and a bottle of wine stood on the desk together with one glass, half full. Dom knew Will; without needing to look, he knew his friend's eyes were fixed on the bottle. It was years since they had tasted wine.

Dom surveyed the man seated behind the desk, writing. He did not look up as Dom and Will entered, and this greatly annoyed Dom. He did not care for such a lack of good manners. He coughed - loudly. Still the man did not look up. He signed the letter with a flourish and let his eyes travel up to Will, and then Dom. His eyes narrowed for a moment but then he smiled.

"Welcome, welcome, Fathers! Do you please be seated. Would you care for some refreshment?"

Will seemed about to speak, but the man's eyes were fixed on Dom. He appeared amiable enough, but Dom trusted his instincts, and his instincts did not like this man.

"We would be grateful, indeed, for some food. It has been many days since we ate a decent meal, and I see you have brought sheep here. We would very much like some mutton."

The man's eyes grew wide and he called a soldier in and gave orders for food to be brought, and indicated that Dom and Will be seated.

As he did so, Dom examined him. Between forty and fifty, tall and dark, the man was well-spoken and obviously gently born. Dom quickly searched his mind to see if he knew him, but did not recognise him. It did not appear as if he had been an attendant at the Spanish court, for all his extravagant and very expensive dress.

The man was not clad as a soldier, but in full court dress - a mid blue embroidered silk doublet shining with jewels and chains, and short trunk hosen, complete with an immaculately starched ruff and cuffs, embroidered on the points with pearls the size of peas. Dom was convinced that his clocked stockings were also decorated with pearls, and his shoes, also. The man looked as if he had just stepped into a royal salon after a short stroll along the Prado.

Peacock! Dom thought, suppressing a sneer.

He thought it time he took command of the conversation. "I am Father Damian de Miguel Perez, at your service, Captain General, and this is my companion and helper, Guilliermo Gonzales Romero y Rohas. He is not a priest, but a lay brother, and is a very welcome help to me in our present endeavours."

Will sighed with relief. Dom was glad they had decided, after their first encounter with Captain Sancho, that Will did not have sufficient knowledge to support playing the priest, and had modified his status accordingly.

At the sound of Dom's voice the Spaniard seemed to recollect his manners. He stood, and so did Will and Dom.

"I am Felipe Maria Hernando Ortega Lopez y Gasset de Arriotua, Captain General of this company," the soldier announced, as if conferring a signal honour upon the recipients of this information.

Dom, with dismay, heard Will cough slightly. You must not laugh, Will!. Don’t be a fool! he thought savagely, as he bowed his head in acknowledgement.

An Inca slave arrived with three glasses on a tray, bowed low and scuttled out.

"You will join me in a glass of wine?" The man was looking at Dom again.

Will said, "that would be very welcome, I thank you," in his best Castilian accent, and Dom knew his friend would not give himself away before this man by lapsing into the Scottish brogue. Will, when he put his mind to it, was a notable mimic, and had copied perfectly the over precise tones of the man sitting opposite them.

As they drank their wine the Captain asked all the expected questions and Dom was able to answer them with confidence. Soon, food arrived, and they moved from the desk to a dining table covered in finest white damask, and ate off porcelain plates with silver knives and spoons.

Will had told the captain that they had lost two of their bearers, and only gained one in their place. Dom could see that by volunteering information instead of waiting to be asked, it would seem more natural.

"The village where we left the others and found the new man did not have much in the choice of servants to offer us. Some of these natives are very simple-minded," Dom commented languidly, over a glass of port, glad that neither Lizhe nor Amaru were there to hear him.

"You are very right, Father. How often over the past two months have I said it?" The Captain General sipped his drink like a maiden aunt with a bowl of hot milk. Dom had no doubt he was a man with similar sexual tastes to his own, but he despised his fussy demeanour, and affected, languid gestures. He reminded Dom of nothing more than the boys at a burdel he had once visited in Paris.

The man droned on. His whining tone was grating on Dom's nerves, which were already stretched. "I have never before met a more obtuse people. I took pains to try to learn their language, but I could never grasp it. It is an abominable tongue."

He slapped his hand flat on the table. "And every time one of them is asked where this cursed God-King may be found, they grovel on the floor, terrified by the mere sound of his name, and say that no-one like them has ever seen him. Only his close family and associates, apparently, know him. How, then, am I supposed to capture him and take him captive to Spain, if I have no idea what he looks like?"

"It is a puzzle, indeed, Captain General," Dom remarked in stiff tones. His dislike of the man was rapidly turning to something stronger. He cast him a speculative look then asked, "if you have no further need of us at this present, may we be permitted to retire to our tent? My friend has lately been sick of an ague, and needs to rest."

A soldier was found to take them to their accommodation. Dom was glad to see it was a fairly large tent with two truckle beds for Will and himself, and two bed-rolls for their supposed servants. Their packs were neatly stacked against the wall. Dom sighed with relief - at least at night, he could be sure Lizhe was safe with them. However, of the two men, there was no sign.

"Ague, be damned!" snorted Will in English, but very quietly - they did not wish to be overheard in whichever language they were using. He sat on his bed and grinned. "Why could it not have been you who suffered from it?"

"I have never experienced it, my friend, unlike you." Dom whispered, grinning back. "If we need to dissemble at any point, you may do so. You, after all, are a consummate actor."

Will nodded. "Aye, I am. The Play we did, last year, when I got to portray you! That was a masterpiece."

They reverted then, to Spanish, and talked generally for a few minutes until Lizhe and Amaru appeared carrying foodstuffs, more blankets and a bottle of wine.

Lizhe spoke in Quechua. It would not do to reveal that he spoke perfect Spanish. It may be that later, it would prove useful - but for the moment, they had decided to hide the fact.

"This is a very large camp. There are nearly a thousand soldiers here, we discovered," Lizhe said in low tones. "And there are priests, Dom. Amaru and I saw two when the soldier showed us where to obtain water. Surely they will make themselves known to you when they find you are here. Do you think they will discover you are not one of them? It worries me, greatly."

Lizhe touched Dom's arm, an expression of concern upon his face. Dom examined his lover. He looked hot, the bites still angry red on his body, his eyes still swollen and painful.

"You should rest, Lizhe," Dom said, briefly grasping his lover's hand. "You look over-heated, and tired."

Lizhe smiled but shook his head. "I am supposed to be your servant. I cannot be seen resting during the day. They will think it unusual - and we cannot have them questioning any aspect of our behaviour as being unusual."

Dom had to agree with this. They had to behave as did everyone else who would have been similarly circumstanced.

"And you need have no fear that Dom will be found out in any imposture, Lizhe. I can assure ye o' that," Will smiled reassuringly at the Inca. "He kens well how t'play the priest. Have ye eaten?"

Amaru shook his head. "We brought enough food for four," he said, placing the bowls he carried on the camp table that stood between the beds. "There is some meat here that I do not know. It smells strongly, but not unpleasantly so. They said it had been prepared today, and seems fresh, not like the stuff we saw hanging outside some of the tents, thick with flies. And there is bread... and potatoes. The Spanish seem to have taken a great liking to them."

Dom refused the offer of more mutton, but Will, seeing there was plenty and to spare, sniffed it to ensure it was indeed fresh, and after Lizhe and Amaru had taken what they wanted, enjoyed gnawing the meat off the bone.

It was with great concern that Dom noted how little Lizhe ate. He liked his food, and it was not like him to refuse good, fresh meat when the opportunity came. However, Dom said nothing, and as it was now growing dark, Amaru handed Will an oil lamp he had been given, and watched carefully as Will got out his firestone to make the spark to light the lamp.

They sat together talking quietly. No-one seemed to approach their tent and it was not near enough to any other for them to be overheard by accident. Just to be sure, Dom asked Will, as he left to relieve himself, to note where the nearest soldiers were stationed, and when his friend returned, he was happy to announce that the nearest campfire was nearly thirty feet away.

Will had brought wood for their own fire, and Amaru took it from him, saying, with a quirky smile that it was a servant's duty to make a fire for his masters, and Will buffeted the man on the shoulder and told him to mind his tongue.

The fire cast a pleasant glow through the canvas, and Will and Amaru stayed outside, enjoying its warmth, whilst Dom and Lizhe sat together on the bed and talked using the priestly language so that even Amaru and Will would not understand.

"How art thou, my love? Do thine eyes pain thee, still?"

"Not as much, now, I assure thee. I know that my ills vex thee. I am well - I am well."

"Thou art mistaken - I am not vexed, but concerned. Thou art not well, and thy spirit is troubled also. Has not God spoken to thee concerning our fate?"

"He has said nothing, my Dom. His ears are deaf to my pleadings. I do not know what it is I must do. All I can do is wait - but I do not mind waiting as long as thou art with me to love me and to comfort me."

Dom looked quickly towards the tent flap, and kissed Lizhe, tenderly. "I am with thee always," he said, as they reluctantly drew apart.

They went outside and basked for a while in the pleasant, comforting warmth of the fire and the good company of their friends, until the deep darkness fell, and they went inside to sleep.

When Dom woke the next morning, he was alone in the tent. It was past dawn, and when he stuck his head through the tent flap, saw that there were several soldiers marching about issuing orders to tired and bruised slaves, and no sign at all of his three companions.

He went behind the tent to the trench, and relieved himself, then after dressing, sat on his bed, absently fingering the rosary tucked into his belt, wondering where his friends were.

They returned in a few minutes, Will white with rage, Amaru seething with suppressed anger and Lizhe looking pale and drawn, his eyes still puffy. Dom saw to his great concern that he was hot with fever.

"Damn them all - the whole benighted pack of them!" Will said, in Quechua, so that Amaru could understand him.

Dom felt Lizhe's forehead as he slumped down upon his blankets. "What is it, my love?" he said, softly, gesturing to Will to stand by the flap and keep watch.

"It will pass; it is only a fever. Do not regard it," Lizhe murmured back.

"Aye, and it would pass a lot quicker if the bloody Spanish doctor had spared Lizhe a draught. But, no, he said, sticking his pointed nose in the air, his remedies are not to be wasted on the natives, but are reserved for good Spanish soldiers so they can subdue and conquer this miserable nation and its puny king," Will left his post as look-out and strode up and down the tent, his pent-up emotions needing an outlet.

Dom looked at Lizhe lying there, and gestured Amaru forward to bathe the inflamed eyes and skin with water.

"Will - of your mercy, show me where this physician is to be found," he said. “I believe there is something I have to say to him.”

The hospital tent was in the middle of the compound. As they approached Dom could smell the sickness - the odour of effluent and blood.

"They have the purging sickness," Will commented, wryly. "It is said the food here does not agree with them. I say it is more likely a case of eating rotting meat, for we were strangers here once and have never suffered the like of this."

Dom nodded. They had come to the tent where the doctor was working, and Dom straightened his back, raised his chin to full hidalgo-height, and called, imperiously, "Hola! Come quickly, doctor - I need assistance."

The pointed nose appeared at the tent flap. Before he had a chance to speak, Dom said, abruptly, "you will furnish me with bottle of febrifuge and a paregoric draught for my sick servant - and some soothing lotion with which to bathe his wounds, if you please."

The man was about to open his mouth and protest, when Dom, looking down his nose at the man as if he was a worm, said, almost languidly, "do not waste time, man, arguing with me. My servant is essential to my comfort, and I will not be inconvenienced of his services by such as you. Either give me what I demand, or I shall kneel here in the dust, denounce you before God a traitor to your fellow men as a breaker of the Hippocratic oath, and, consequently consign your benighted soul to suffer the eternal agonies of the Ninth Circle of Hell, where Satan dwells. Well - why do you stand there with your mouth open? - move!"

The doctor moved. Within a minute he appeared with a basket containing two bottles and a jar, and a quantity of soft cloths. "You will tell the Inquisitor General that I aided you, Father? I would not care to fall under his displeasure..."

The man seemed terrified. Will took the basket from the man's trembling hand, whilst Dom asked, bluntly, his voice striving for a normal tone. "Inquisitor General? There is an Inquisitor in the camp?"

The man nodded, swallowing repeatedly in a throat now dry with fear. "There is, Father. Father Benigo Ildefonso. He arrives back today. He has been at Cuzco, chastising the heathen. Now, if you will excuse me, I have many men sick. This land is cursed, the foodstuffs tainted. I cannot see why Spain - or any Christian country - would want to claim it."

He bowed low, and disappeared into the noisome tent.

As soon as they had reached a quiet patch away from it, Will sighed. "The Inquisition, Dom. That is ill news, indeed. I much dislike the thocht of him chastising anyone I know and love, and there are several at Cuzco of whom I've grown gae fond over the past few years...."

Dom's lips were tightly pressed together. "I do not fear for us, Will, both of us can prove without difficulty that we are good Catholic men. It is the innocent people of this land and...Lizhe and Amaru..."

As they neared their own tent they found two soldiers standing outside, who came to attention as the friends approached.

"Father Damian, the Captain General begs your attendance in his tent as soon as may be," one of them announced, in a respectful voice.

"Tell him I will come to him when I have broken my fast, and said prayers for my ailing servant." Dom made as if to pass within, but the man prevented him from doing so by placing the pike he carried across the entrance.

The other soldier shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "It will be best if you come immediately, Father - he does not like to be kept waiting. Besides," the man continued, paling somewhat, "he has the Inquisitor General with him, fresh from Cuzco. It is he - the Inquisitor - who wishes to meet you."

Will disappeared inside the tent to give the basket to Amaru, but when he came out again, ready to accompany Dom, the soldiers shook their heads. "He does not want you, Brother. He asked specifically for Father Damian, and no other."

Dom gave rapid instructions to Will in French as the soldiers moved away from the tent. "Look after him for me, friend. My life is nothing to me without him," he whispered.

The soldiers paused nearby and waited until Dom caught up with them. He stopped by a water bucket but saw the water was brackish. He would draw some fresh from the stream later - he knew stale water was not good for the belly. He would first encounter whatever fate awaited him inside the tent.

As one of the accompanying soldiers held back the tent flap, Dom squared his shoulders and, lifting his chin once more, entered to face the Inquisitor.

Current Mood: quixotic

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

laeliacatt.livejournal.com

I'm here! *waves frantically* Just woke up about an hour ago, with this chapter to greet me. I haven't even had my coffee yet so please excuse any incoherent blather. :)

Oh, no! Lizhe has a fever and the Inquisitor is in the camp! What else can happen? Perhaps the whole camp, save our merry band, will fall ill from brackish water and rotting meat and our little group can slip away. *I am bad... :)*

I'm with Dom. I don't like the peacock Captain General either. I hope his pearls fall off! ;)

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Inca 2 : Scourge of the Sun 15

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