In the great patio of the castle it was a glorious sight to see the duke’s three hundred men-at-arms ranged around in a single file. The bright sun wantoned brilliantly upon their arms and breastplates, and when the Countess Sylvia rode into their midst, almost obscured in armour except for the tip of her chin, the tip of her nose, a piece of a damask cheek, and two clear and masterful eyes that glanced from under their steel canopy with the brightness of the sword she bore in her hand, they raised a cry from their honest throats. For they had seen enough to be aware that beauty and genius reigned in that proud mien. She took her place in their midst with the Count of Nullepart, Sir Richard Pendragon, and Don Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas beside her with drawn swords. Such a flashing and noble glance as she directed along each row could never before have met these men-at-arms.
“Sirrah Red Dragon,” she said, “do you remove my headpiece that I may speak them better.”
When the English giant lifted the steel canopy off her ears, and these warriors, for the most part mercenaries, beheld so much beauty and disdain, they raised another cry in her honour, for indeed there never was a more superb thing.
“Lieges and virtuous bearers of my sword,” she said in her clear and spreading speech, “from this day I am your captain. I will lead ye truly through all the strait places. When the culverin bellows, the caliver barks, and the good Toledo blades flash and clang together, you will find me on my milk-white courser in the forefront of the battle, vindicating mine own right with mine own puissance. There is a great work toward, for our cousin John, the rude Castilian prince, bids us deliver this fair castle into his covetous hand. But I do tell thee, my honest lieges, it shall not be so. I have good servants; they shall strike shrewd blows; and if the rude Castilian enters this castle, if enter he must, he shall come in chains as a captive, or there shall not be a stick or a stone or a breathing soul to give him welcome.”
At this moment the English giant standing at her side raised his bonnet, adorned with a great plume, on the point of his sword, and cried out in a voice that drowned everything: “These be words, these be words! ’Tis queenly speaking! Give it tongue, friends and rascals! Let the little queen’s majesty know that ye heed.”
In his own great voice this mad fellow led their shouts.
“I thank you, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said his mistress, “and, my honest lieges, I say to you marry and amen. That ye will make true service I see by your shining glances, but I would have you swear your fealty in the olden manner upon this good sword. For I would have you to know that my father, his lordship’s grace, fell into a strange senility a twelvemonth since; there is such a distemper in his wits that he can no longer ride over his dominion. His old eye, which should be an eagle’s to look proud at the sun, now watereth readily on a small occasion. There is no virtue in his mind; his heart hath not the constancy to make him bold before an adversary. This rude Castilian prince, this wicked king, would override him as easily as he would a plain of mustard. Do you mark me, my lieges, his lordship’s grace is now a figure for your tears. He is a pitiful old man, a babbler of nothings, his mind is vanity. Therefore, my lieges, he and his trusty fat man, whose ribs are larded like butter, and who is so slow in his mind as a snail, will speak ye no more. From this day I am your duke and captain, your liege lord and liege lady. I will lead ye against the Castilian host, and if we do not prevail we will fall together with our swords in our hands.”
“Again, again, brothers, give it tongue!” cried the English giant, waving his plumed hat on the point of his sword, and leading the soldiers in their lusty cheers.
“Sirrah Red Dragon,” said his mistress, when their cries had subsided, “I would have you cause all these good honest men defile before us, that they may be sworn upon our sword.”
“Would it not be properer, your majesty,” said the English giant, with a dangerous light of admiration in his eye, “if you first made them acquainted with their new captain-generalissimo, the captain of the guard and master of the horse, whose emoluments amount to the not inconsiderable sum of four thousand maravedis a month?”