“I will put you and your town to the sword.”
“Try it,” was the reply, and the siege went on.
One morning, as the rising sun was beginning to gild with its rays the highest towers of the city, a trumpet sounded in the camp of the enemy. It was the signal for a parley. The old knight soon appeared on the wall and looked down on the king.
“Surrender,” said King John again. “My rival Alfonso is dead, and our dispute is ended.”
“Sir,” said the knight, “I believe that you speak the truth, but I must see my dead master.”
“Go, then, to Seville, where his body lies,” said the king. “You have my word that no harm shall befall you.”
The knight came out with banners flying and an escort of a few half-starved warriors. As he rode slowly along, the soldiers who knew of his courage and his many brave deeds, greeted him with loud shouts and gazed after him until the red plume above his helmet disappeared in the distance.
As soon as he reached Seville, he went straight to the great church where he was told the body of his master was still lying in its open coffin. Gazing awhile with tearful eyes at the pale face which met his look, he thus spoke to the dead Alfonso: “Sir, I promised never to surrender to any one but yourself the keys of the town which you intrusted to my care. Here they are. I have kept my promise.” With that, he laid the keys on the breast of his master, and then, mounting his steed, he galloped back to his post.
“Well,” said the king, “are you satisfied, and are you willing to give up?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered.