Before this burst of passion the Grand Master stands as if turned to stone.
“What!” continues Don Pedro, ascribing his silence to fear. “Does your heart fail you in my presence? If so it is well,” and he arises as if about to rush upon him.
“Do with me as you list, brother!” answers the Grand Master, “but I swear to you, by this symbol of the living Christ”—and he raises the jewelled cross of his sword high in the air—“for me, the queen is as pure as when she left her mother. Let him who says other stand forth.” With that, tearing his mailed glove from his hand, he flings it upon the floor, the scales of the metal ringing on the marble. “Don Pedro of Castile, will you cross swords with me?” he asks, advancing to the foot of the throne where Don Pedro has seated himself, his eyes gleaming with fury. “By my faith!” and scorn is in Don Fadique’s voice, “you do well not to defend so vile a charge. Blood enough has flowed—my mother’s, my little brother’s, and now my own, whom you have lured here treacherously to slay. Oh! shame and disgrace of knighthood!”
“Miscreant!” roars Don Pedro, wounded to the quick at this reproach. “Prepare to die! On earth your time is short, and, por Dios! you deserve your fate, you smooth-faced hypocrite! Better to be an open foe like Enrique, than a caitiff conspirator! Out on you, you bastard! I will not cross swords with you!”
Stung by his insolence, Don Fadique is rushing upon him, when Don Garcia de Padilla interposes from behind and holds him back.
“Señor Infante, Grand Master of Santiago, you are my prisoner,” he says, laying his hand on his shoulder, and the men-at-arms move forward from the entrance to where he stands.
“I am no man’s prisoner!” cries Don Fadique, putting his hand on his sword. “If all were as faithful to the king, he would have truer followers than he has. Nor shall you take me, vile instrument of a strumpet’s vengeance,” turning to draw his weapon upon Don Garcia, but the hilt of the sword had become so entangled in the embroidered scarf he wears, taken from the queen at Valladolid, nothing will move it.
