All the doors were closed and fastened,
Except the principal doorway,
And that was left without a guard.
Ollantay. And the servants?
Piqui Chaqui. Even the mice had fled and gone,
For nothing had been left to eat.
Only an owl was brooding there,
Uttering its cry of evil omen.
Ollantay. Perhaps then her father has taken her,
To hide her in his palace bounds.
Piqui Chaqui. The Inca may have strangled her;
Her mother too has disappeared.
Ollantay. Did no one ask for me
Before you went away?
Piqui Chaqui. Near a thousand men are seeking
For you, and all are enemies,
Armed with their miserable clubs.
Ollantay. If they all arose against me,
With this arm I'd fight them all;
No one yet has beat this hand,
Wielding the champi sharp and true.
Piqui Chaqui. I too would like to give a stroke—
At least, if my enemy was unarmed.
Ollantay. To whom?
Piqui Chaqui. I mean that Urco Huaranca chief,
Who lately was in search of thee.
Ollantay. Perhaps the Inca sends him here;
If so my anger is aroused.
Piqui Chaqui. Not from the King, I am assured,
He cometh of his own accord;
And yet he is an ignoble man.
Ollantay. He has left Cuzco, I believe;
Zegarra says that it is not. Before the Spaniards came, there was a small wild cat in the Andes called misi-puna. But the Justiniani text has allco, a dog.
