ismenin | Inca 2 : Scourge of the Sun 19

Me and my bois!

Here we are again! Another week passeth swifter than the one before. And Li'l Lijah is on the radio tonight! *Major Squeee!*
So before we all get too incited, here is this week's episode. Thanks faithful readers for your continued interest!

Thanks as always to

ladysunrope for her beta and valuable insights.
And thanks to darlin'

primula_baggins for twiddling with the DomPic till he looked reasonable. He was rather chubby before she got at it! And to lickel

saura for help with de Spanish bits. Snoogles to y'all..

Part 19 - Father and Son

Dom hurried the French physician across the camp. The man carried a large leather bag, of which Dom tried to relieve him, saying he must feel tired after such a long sea voyage.

Maitre Michel laughed. "Indeed, not, your Eminence. I do not ever suffer from physical weariness. I am in perfect health."

Dom could see this was true. He smiled at the man striding step for step beside him. "Please do not call me "your Eminence", especially before my servant. Dom Domingo will suffice."

They had reached the tent and found Khuno outside heating some water. He stood as the two men approached. "He has woken, Auqui, and is anxious for you. He has had a small mouthful of quinoa to eat, that is all, and I was about to wash him..."

Dom smiled at the old priest. "I am grateful for your care of him. Wait out here whilst the physician examines him,"

Maitre Michel drew Dom a short distance from the tent and asked Dom a few questions concerning the patient. After he had heard the story of the bees, he pursed his lips and frowned. "I have known the sting of these creatures to be very dangerous, but I have had no experience of these particular bees that drink sweat, and bite. I will look at the man and see what aid I can give."

As they entered the tent it was obvious to Dom that Lizhe had heard his voice and was waiting anxiously for him, his face flushed with the fever spots still burning bright on each cheek.

Dom's heart went out to his love, as he knew Lizhe would want most desperately to hear what Viracocha had said to him, and what he had seen concerning the Coya's death.

"Lizhe, I have brought you my father's physician to examine you. My father is here...he has come to find me," he continued as Lizhe breathed in sharply, shocked by the news. "Do you let this good man see if he can lower the fever, and bring you some strength."

"I would be grateful if you could," Lizhe said, quietly, looking up at the stranger with haunted eyes. "I am anxious to be on my feet again."

"I will see what can be done, never fear. I am thought to be tolerably adept with fevers, that is why Don Cristobal brought me with him. One never knows, in foreign climes, what ills strangers may suffer that the people of the place escape."

As he spoke, he knelt by Lizhe's side and ran his eyes and hands expertly over him. "You have lost flesh of late," he continued, looking inside Lizhe's mouth and pulling down his lower eyelids and tutting.

Then he leaned back on his heels and took one of Lizhe's hands in his. "I am sorry for your loss," he said,gently.

Dom nearly tripped over his feet in surprise. How did this man know?

"I sense in you a great loss. It is not well to keep such pain locked in. It needs expression."

"How?" Dom began, then cleared his throat and tried again. "How did you know he...we...had lost someone dear to us?" He sat on his bed as his legs refused to hold him, the accumulated revelations of the day finally proving overwhelming.

"I am said to have a knack for it," he man said, smiling. "Do you think that we could now place you in the bed? Do you mind if I touch you...lift you? It will be far easier for me to treat you."

Lizhe was staring at Maitre Michel with eyes bright with fever. "You may do so. How did you know to ask if you might touch me...? He is a shaman, Dom - he knows. Do you know, also, who I am?" Lizhe said, his voice weak and uncertain.

The man picked Lizhe up as if he were a baby and deposited him on the bed. "Well, the stars were very revealing to me the last night I spent upon the ship. They told me I would meet with the Earth-Shaker, the World-Turner. Is that you?"

Lizhe closed his eyes against the daylight. "It is." He whispered. "I am he."

Dom grabbed Maitre Michel's arm in a desperate hold. "You must not tell ...it is madness for Lizhe to reveal this to you..."

"Do not fear, Dom Domingo. After all, I do not know who or what the Earth-Shaker is, do I? How, then, could I reveal his identity? Besides I am bound by the Hippocratic Oath. I shall tell no-one he has told me this, not even your father. I swear it."

"Dom," a small voice came from the bed. "Do you go outside whilst I speak with this man."

Dom's brow creased. "You say he is a shaman, Lizhe. How can you know this?"

Lizhe smiled. "I see it in his eyes as he sees it in mine - and it is also in yours, if the truth be known. I would have a few minutes with him, alone, if I may."

The Inca smiled up at the tall man, now kneeling beside him, rummaging in his capacious bag. "What is your name?"

The big man chuckled softly, and touched Lizhe's hand. "Michel," he said, softly, "My name is Michel."

*****

If Dom had had the forethought to have removed his watch from the desk in Captain Felipe's tent he would have known that nearly an hour had passed before Maitre Michel left Lizhe and came out into the afternoon sun.

He took a cup of coca from Khuno, who made himself scarce by taking some laundry to the stream. Dom waited impatiently whilst Maitre Michel sipped appreciatively.

"It is good that I have seen him, Dom Domingo. I have brought him relief both of body and spirit. He will sleep now, but you may wake him to feed him, then he will sleep again. He needs nourishment, Dom. He will fail without it. I will get my assistant to kill a fresh sheep and boil the most nourishing parts, and make a broth from it with some onions and root vegetables. If your man here boils it up every day, it will not spoil."

Dom nodded. "Tell him to chop up some of the potatoes that grow in this land, and put them in it, also. They are Lizhe's favourite vegetable. How is he?"

Maitre Michel sighed. "He has much on his mind - several things exercise him at the moment. His motherless children, the Lady Quisbe, and your welfare are on top of this list. He did not reveal to me what the other concerns may be. Now his mind has been relieved of your care, for your father's coming has brought him much joy on your behalf. But he needs to hear what you have to tell him."

"When you are alone tonight, he will wake to hear what you have to say. About midnight is my guess. Afterwards you will give him the potion I will leave in the small horn cup on the table and he will sleep again. I have thrown the other medicines away. They were not fit even for the horses. I shall speak to the other physicians concerning it - vile stuff!"

Maitre Michel's face grew grim. "It seems to me that the men in this camp are all of an inferior class. The officers, soldiers, cooks... everyone. It is as if the Pope and the King sent only their second best on this enterprise - those who would not be missed if anything were to happen to them. It was only because of your father's request to be allowed to come to find your body, that there is now a decent man in charge here. The King offered to fund the voyage, but your father, not lacking in wealth, furnished his own outfit - everything is of the best."

Maitre Michel patted Dom's hand. "Go to your father, now. I will remain here with your Lizhe until you return."

Dom bowed and, blushing, went to his father's tent. He met Captain Sancho on the way who told him Don Cristobal had ordered a better tent to be erected for his son and body servant next to his, and another for Master Boyd and the other servant next to that. He did not mention Amaru. It was left to Dom to enquire after his companion, trying for a nonchalant tone - not quite sure he was succeeding.

Sancho grinned. "Do not fear for him, your Eminence. He is unbound and is sitting with the Inquisitor who is questioning him. If you were to ask me which of the two was getting the best of the encounter, I would have to say it is your friend. Father Benigo looks furious that the man will not bend to his will. He has a perfectly good God of his own, he tells him, and has no need of any other."

He was off, he then said, to see that the sick man was brought carefully down as the Don had instructed.

"You need not fear for that, Captain. He has my father's physician there, who will have no difficulty in carrying him to me. Maitre Michel is a big man."

Captain Sancho inclined his head, slightly. "I will see he is brought down with all possible care and speed."

Dom paused for a moment outside his father's tent, but could hear no raised voices for which he was profoundly grateful. He wondered what it was that his father had persuaded Will to reveal about the last few years. Well, he would soon discover that.

He found his father and Will sitting in two comfortable chairs with a third chair obviously awaiting his arrival. There was a table with two bottles of wine and three glasses upon it, and two plates with meat left on both.

Neither man stood as he entered and he was glad for this lack of formality. He was not surprised to see his father was still dressed in his doublet, although he seemed to be sitting comfortably enough in Will's company, and even had a quick smile for Dom as he came in.

Dom saw that Will had dispensed with the soutaine and was wearing riding breeches and a fine shirt. Dom stared, fascinated, wondering where he had obtained these garments, as they were so patently not his father's. Don Cristobal was a tall, long-limbed man, several inches taller than either of the friends.

Dom sat by his father, realising that his legs still felt somewhat unsteady after the leaves, and accepted his father's offer of a glass of wine and a little roast chicken.

"I made sure we brought ample food with us. I cannot exist on inferior meats, I just cannot - although Señor Boyd tells me that the cuy is a tasty creature."

Dom stared at his father, wondering if the sun had got into his brain. But that was a silly thought, he mused, for the sun was just as hot in Spain as it was here, and he had never before seen his father so relaxed and informal.

As if divining his son's thoughts, Don Cristobal smiled. "I learned much on my journey here, Domingo - Dom - about myself and about other people." He reached into a bag hanging in the arm of his chair and handed Dom something from inside it. It was a portrait

.

of Dom Domingo, the cardinal, dressed in severe black.

Dom stared at the stranger in the portrait from a life so long ago and so far away, and handed it back. Don Cristobal stowed it away again.

"I see you have changed much since you have been in this land, my son. I see no sign of the stiff caballero that left Spain with his chin in the air and his eyes dark with secrets."

A sound of scuffling was heard outside the tent and Captain Sancho's voice was uttering muted but angry orders to someone who was obviously not doing quickly enough what the captain wished.

Don Cristobal rose. "That will be your friend arriving. I would see the man who has encompassed such a change in my son, for I have no doubt it is he who has performed this miracle. But I confess I do not know this for certain, since Señor Boyd, despite all my probing, has kept all your secrets close."

The Don looked down at his hands and started turning a ring on his finger as he spoke.

"I do not know you well - I say that to my shame - but I do know enough of you, my son, to notice the profound difference in both your character and demeanour. We shall speak of it later. Let us go and see the phenomenon that gave rise to this transformation."

Will raised an expressive eyebrow at Dom and the two friends followed the Don from the tent.

Maitre Michel was placing a comfortable pillow under Lizhe's head as the three men entered. Captain Sancho was fussing over the arrangement of a sheet that covered the Inca's lower body, then both men, satisfied with their self-appointed tasks, stood back and allowed the Don to approach the bed.

Don Cristobal stood for long minutes staring at the man asleep under the coverlet, his dark hair hanging like a veil to his waist. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it.

"I do not understand why it should be so," he said softly, "but it gladdens my heart to see him."

He sent an enquiring glance in Maitre Michel's direction. "How is he?"

The Maitre smiled. "He has been much weakened by the fever, but he will improve quickly, now that he has me to tend him. I have hopes of seeing him out of bed within the week."

The Maitre and Captain bowed and left the tent and Dom moved forward, and took Lizhe's hand. He looked up and smiled. "He is already less fevered, father. I notice a difference even in this short time!"

Khuno entered the tent bearing a flask of some liquid and a horn cup. "The shaman said to give him this, Auqui," he said in Quechua, and Dom nearly dropped the cup he was handed when his father replied in the same language, thanking the old man for his care of the patient.

The Don noticed the mens’ surprise. "Yes, you had your talent with languages from me, Domingo. Your mother was never as proficient, as you know, except in French and Italian, of course, and Latin. I had ample time to study the language on our voyage here."

“Father, I would you would call me Dom rather than Domingo. It is the name used by those dearest to me.” Dom was hesitant and shy about asking such a thing knowing his father’s liking for tradition. His mother had used the name, but never his father.

His father considered this and then nodded. “I will leave you alone, Dom, to be with your friend. There will be time enough for us to talk.”

Dom let the gratitude show in his face. His father was indeed a different man, but then, so were they all.

The Don was just about to leave with Will, when Lizhe stirred. He spoke in Spanish, hardly more than a whisper, but still clearly audible. "Don Cristobal, welcome to my Land."

"I thank you for your welcome. I thank you, also, for the life of my son."

Lizhe nodded, although he did not open his eyes. "His life is dearer to me than my own," he said, before he sank back into slumber.

Will and Dom did not know what to make of this exchange. It was impossible for Don Cristobal to know who Lizhe was, but there seemed to be a connection between them, somehow.

His father's voice broke into Dom's thoughts. "Satisfy yourself that he is comfortable, Dom, then come to me. We have much to discuss."

Dom nodded, occupied with feeling for Lizhe's racing pulse. "Certainly, father."

He had a thought and said, brushing Lizhe's hair out of his sleeping eyes, "I would be grateful, Will, if you could procure for me some breeches and a shirt such as you are wearing. I am tired of the soutaine."

Dom looked up to see a shadow pass over his father's face. "I would tread carefully in this matter, Dom, if I were you. Do not underestimate the power of the Inquisition. There are more members of it present than the two priests you have seen today. I am informed that Father Benigo has here a sizeable coterie of fanatical followers devoted to his wishes, whom he commands in all things. It will not be wise to cross him.”

“I shall have you sent the cardinal's robes I brought for your shroud... it will afford me great pleasure to see you attired in them alive. And it will not hurt for all the priests here to remember they are all subordinate to you and to your commands."

"Aye," said Will, quietly. "We went t'see Am...er, the God-King whilst ye were away. He is being treated wi' deference at least, and great courtesy. It would nae do to spill the apple-cart there."

"Come Señor Boyd. We shall leave them for a moment," and they were gone.

Dom glanced at the tent-flap before he kissed Lizhe on the lips, and forehead. "Rest well, querido de mi corazón; for you are my heart's beloved, before all things on earth and in heaven."

*****

It was night, and Dom was lying on his bed, waiting for the moment at midnight when Michel had said Lizhe would awake. He had much to think upon.
It was clear that at their meeting, his father had been much angered with Will before Dom explained it was solely by his wish that Will had informed him that he was dead.

"I did not want soldiers invading the Land, father. Not did I ever wish to leave it. Please try to understand..."

His father had looked at him with sad eyes.

"One does not always know what one loves in life the dearest until it is taken from you, my son."

His father had moved his chair closer to Dom's and said, with a kinder look on his face than Dom had ever seen there, "tell me about your Lizhe."
Dom told him. He told him everything there was to tell. He was not afraid now that his father would reveal this information to anyone else.

When Dom had finally finished talking, Don Cristobal sat for a few moments in silence, his eyes on the floor, and when he finally looked at his son, Dom had been shocked to see his father's eyes brimming with tears.

The Don had cleared his throat several times before he could speak. "I loved your mother more than any woman alive. My own mother, I did not see until I was fifteen, as she chose to live at the palace, waiting upon the Queen, away from my father. They did not like each other...nor did she have any feelings for me, her only child."

He broke off for a moment, and Dom had waited patiently until he resumed. "Your mother was chosen for me as a bride by my father and hers. Until our wedding night we had hardly met - had not been one moment alone in each other's company - you know our ways."

"When we were finally left alone she took my hand and told me that she knew about...about Cayetano."

Don Cristobal blushed and Dom had swallowed his shock, and looked steadily into his father's eyes.

"I loved him beyond all things, Dom. He was my lode-star. He was the son of the Duke of Ferrara. We had been companions since we were boys, and fell in love when I was sixteen and he seventeen. It was a natural thing to us, but to others - and to the Inquisition - it would have been an abomination. So we hid it."

"We thought we were safe, but we had been found out. A greedy servant, someone we had crossed, perhaps - I will never know. One day, my Cayetano was found stabbed to death in a lane behind the Prado. He had not been robbed of his money or jewels. He died for what he was, not for what he had. From then on, my heart was an empty shell, until I met your mother."
Don Cristobal had smiled at his son.

"I was twenty six when we married. I came to love her as much as if I had chosen her for myself. Your mother was a glorious creature. She had patience. She waited for me until I was ready to...to come to her. And I found much joy in her - much joy."

"However, I was afraid that my...inclinations had been passed down to my sons, and to spare them the taint - for had I not been the king's brother I would have died like Caytano, I have no doubt - I withdrew my presence from my sons, to spare you and Matteo from what others saw as contamination. My father was angered beyond words by my ways. Now I see how wrong I was to separate myself from you."

Dom had reached over and clasped his father's trembling hands. "Father, do not..."

The Don had shaken his head. "But I must tell you, my son, do you not see?"
"I knew that you and Señor Boyd had become lovers. I had a mind to stop it, until I saw how happy it had made you. It was your mother's wish that you become a priest, but I...I saw too much of myself in you to think it would make you happy. Still, I loved her, so she had her way, as she did in all things."

"When I saw your feelings for Boyd had returned to friendship, I was glad. I had hopes, you see that you would have children one day. Now I see that is impossible, for your Lizhe has all your heart."

Then Dom had told his father of little Ari and Ima, and had been astonished beyond words when his father had wept once more, but this time with joy, the tears running down his worn yet handsome face.

They had said much after that, drawing closer together in that hour than they had been in all their lives, and when Will came to report that the supposed God-King of the Incas had demanded roast cuy , baked potatoes and coca for dinner, Don Cristobal had laughed and responded to Will's request that the Don call him by his first name.

******

Dom now lay, his hands folded under his head, as the darkness grew black around him, for there was no light but the moon, and the tent flap was tightly laced against it, with Khuno standing guard outside.

Then Dom heard Lizhe stir, and a soft voice call his name. He rose, stripped off his shift, and went to lay beside his love in the narrow bed, ready to tell him all that the leaves had revealed to him, and all that had transpired with Viracocha.

And hearing what his dead sister-wife had said to Dom, Lizhe wept quietly, and told Dom the crystal was still there, under Pachacutec's chair, and would remain in its secret place until time ended.

Dom, thinking Lizhe had borne enough that night, administered the potion, and kissed his love. "Go to sleep, mi alma, I will be here beside you. Rest now and be well," and together, wrapped in each others embrace, they fell asleep.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

janejanejane.livejournal.com

Hi there Issi!

Just printed off your latest chapter to read later, but wanted to say I love your pic with your bois!!! They are so alike especially the two on the right :) So tell us, which is which and we can see if we're wrong!

Btw, who took the photo?
Love you
XXXX

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Inca 2 : Scourge of the Sun 19

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