"Go, then, and success attend you. We await you here."
We sat down between the great gates and the ruins of the Roman theatre, and watched our messenger's long thin legs rapidly flying over the ground. Then he disappeared behind the houses.
We waited and wondered. Presently he reappeared followed by an old woman dangling great keys. His eloquence had prevailed. Perhaps he had promised to share the bribe, or hoped it might be doubled. Panting and breathless, they reached us.
"Ah, señor, this is unheard-of," said the old woman. "No one enters without permission from the commandant. If he knew, it would be as much as my place is worth—not that it is worth much. But he is away to-day; gone to Valencia to the marriage of a friend. So I have some excuse; and he will never know. I will admit you. The times I have opened these gates! I am sixty-five, señor, and have been up and down, through summer and winter, through storm and tempest, ever since I was fifteen. Pretty near the end now."
Inserting the great key into the rough, rusty old lock, the rude doors opened and admitted us.
We found the fortress distinctly Moorish and very interesting. The old woman, well up in her work, knew the history of every portion. Amidst the ruins of the castle were some Moorish cisterns she declared to be bottomless, where blind fish for ever swam. Below what was once the governor's garden, she led us to gloomy dungeons where heavily chained prisoners were confined for life, and she described many a horror that had taken place in the past. Everything testified to the strength of Saguntum of old.
From the walls the views are magnificent. Stretching across the wide plain, one caught faint traces of Valencia and the shimmering sea; at our feet was the little town, and beyond it the hills rose in gentle outlines.
As we looked we observed a procession set forth upon the long white road. Harsh, discordant music from brass instruments rose upon the air. Then we saw that it was a funeral. The coffin was being slowly borne on men's shoulders to the cemetery. The latter was near the town, enclosed in high walls, above which appeared the dark pointed tops of the melancholy cypress. A group of mourners followed the coffin; women bowed and weeping, men subdued: quite a long stream of them. Near us stood our curious messenger.
"Who is it?" we asked.