"This one do I like."
"Babieca,[3] you have badly chosen," said Don Peyre.
"This shall be my horse," replied Rodrigo, "and his name shall be Babieca. Have you not called me babieca? My horse must be so called also, in order that both you and I may remember this difference of opinion. I feel quite sure, godfather Don Peyre, that it is you who shall have to change your mind regarding battlehorses, and not I, should I be in a fight with him."
"I say to you, godson, as you remarked recently to your squire, 'you will know some day, as Agrajes said,'" replied Don Peyre. He then ordered the stablemen to caparison the two horses with handsome accoutrements.
Shortly after, Rodrigo and Fernan started on their return to Burgos; the latter was particularly well pleased with the fine-looking speckled horse which he bestrode, and which attracted much attention on the part of those they met on the road.
Having entered the city, and as they were passing the mansion of the Count of Carrion, they saw at its door a number of squires, pages, and other servitors of the count, who were holding harnessed horses by the bridles, and were apparently ready to set out at once. Guillen, who has already been introduced to the reader, was amongst them. Certainly the steed of Rodrigo, which in future we shall call by the name of Babieca, as such had been given to him by his master, might be fairly considered a subject for the jokes of the wits and loiterers in the streets. However, Rodrigo was so respected and feared in Burgos, that no person had the temerity to laugh at his steed, until he arrived at the place where the house of Don Suero stood. When he and Fernan had got thus far, the servants of the count began to make observations to each other, and to laugh loudly, to which at first the newly-arrived paid no attention; but soon they were obliged to notice their insolence.
"Honoured squire," said one of them, addressing Fernan, "could you tell us whether the steed of this cavalier, your master, belongs to the horse or to the ass species?"
"It is a horse," replied Fernan, with difficulty restraining his anger, "for if it were an ass, you certainly would recognise your brother?"
"Then, brother, I thank you for your courtesy."
"By the soul of Beelzebub, I shall mark the face of Don Bellaco!"[4] exclaimed Fernan, directing his horse towards the insolent fellow, and striking him across the face with the reins.