"Tell us all about it," he asked.
"Ah, your Excellency," moaned the old man, "I am a poor blacksmith and no scholar, and I cannot use fine words."
"Don't some people believe," asked Antonio, egging him on, "that King Sebastião was killed by the Moors at the battle of al-Kasr al-Kebir? Don't they say his body rests in the church of the Jeronymos at Belem?"
"Lies, all lies!" cried the Sebastianista. "Why were we beaten at Alcacer-Kibir by those hounds of infidels? Because they were braver or stronger? No. It was because we had sinned and the just God punished us. But I tell your Excellency that not one hair of the King's head fell to the ground. He departed unhurt from the battle. The tomb in the Jeronymos is emptier than this barrel."
Unfortunately the barrel which the Sebastianista kicked with the iron tip of his wooden shoe gave back a blunt sound which proved that it was full. The girls began to titter; but the old man raved on, unabashed.
"Yes," he cried, "King Sebastião, the brave, the good, the Desired, escaped without a scratch on his body, although he had fought a hundred Moors hand-to-hand. He slew eighty with his own sword. He is waiting in the enchanted isle. Waiting, waiting, waiting. God knows things are bad enough in Portugal. But they will be worse. And when they are worst of all, he will come back. The Hidden Prince will come back, riding on a white horse. He will drive out the thieves and cowards. He will deal out justice to rich and poor alike. He will set up the Fifth Empire."
"The Fifth Empire?" echoed Antonio, astonished at hearing such a phrase from such lips. "What is the Fifth Empire?"
"It is the Empire which King Sebastião will set up," said the old man.
"But, come now, Senhor Joaquim," objected Emilio pertly. "Isn't it rather a long time since King Sebastião went away? Tell us. How long ago?"
"It was before my grandfather was born," snapped the old man, wheeling defiantly towards Emilio.