Still no answer, but Bernardo’s eyes gather upon him, as though he would read his soul. Then, boldly as he had come, he turns on his heel, and raising the arras, passes out.
Upon the broad corn-bearing country about Salamanca a pavilion is erected, by order of the king, at the spot where Bernardo is to meet his father.
With him are Don Ricardo and Favila, by the king’s command, and a company of knights “to do honour to the meeting of a father and long-parted son.”
As they draw near the city walls, the noise of timbrels and trumpets sounds on the breeze, and a glittering band of fifty guards with naked swords, and a troop of knights wearing their vizors up, are seen advancing along the Roman bridge of many arches which crosses the river.
Foremost among them rides a splendidly accoutred figure in a coat of mail; long sleeves of crimson velvet fall from his shoulders, a shield with his cognisance catches the light, a hood and collar of mail conceal his face; his lower limbs are sheathed like the body in plates of steel, a broadsword and poniard hang at the saddle-bow, and his horse, a massive charger, is enveloped, like his master, in plaited mail.
When Bernardo beholds this superbly armed cavalier slowly passing the bridge, the linked bridle of his war horse held by two pages, and an esquire behind carrying his lance and shield, “O God!” is all he can say; “it is the Count of Saldaña. He is coming at last—my father,” and he spurs his horse into a wild gallop.
Already he has dismounted to kiss his father’s hand, already he clasps his mailed gauntlet and looks into his face. Great God! It is the livid countenance of a corpse! The dead weight of Bernardo’s hand causes the body to swerve and fall forward upon the saddle-bow.
Alonso has kept his word, the Count of Saldaña is given free into his hands, but he has been secretly murdered in prison, and it is his dressed-up body that appears before his son.
A cry of agony comes from Bernardo.
“O father, Don Sancho Diaz,” are his words, as he reverently replaces the body on the saddle, “in an evil hour did you beget me; I have given everything for you, and now I have lost all.”