"The Valencian rogue, senor cavalier; how are we to dispose of him?"
"Ha! I had forgotten. Right, my true soldado. A base goatherd, senor," said he, turning to Ronald, "a most contemptible traitor, who guided up the ravine those hundred cuirassiers who so nearly cut your picquet off. Pedro captured the rogue after the skirmish. He is a notorious spy and traitor. Where is he now, Pedro?"
"Tied hard and fast, like a Merino sheep, under the belly of my Andalusian," answered Pedro with a grin.
"You had better turn him over to the provost-marshal of the camp," said Ronald; "he will give him his deserts from the branch of the nearest tree. The rascal! by his treachery to his country my company has lost fourteen gallant hearts, and I have won this wound."
"As he is a prisoner of mine," said Alvaro, "I will dispose of him, and save senor the provost-marshal any trouble in the matter. Desire a file of troopers to dismount and load their carbines,—no! that were a waste of King Ferdinand's powder. Run your dagger into his throat, Pedro, and see that you strike deep; then fling his carcase over the rocks into the Albuera, and let it rot in that same ravine that he knows so well."
Pedro disappeared, and almost instantly a prolonged shriek, which startled the whole camp, announced that the unscrupulous sargento had obeyed his orders to the very letter. Ronald was about to express some abhorrence of this summary mode of execution, when he was interrupted.
"Villa Franca," said a handsome Spanish cavalry officer, about twenty years of age, appearing at the door of the tent; "the Condé Penne Villamur wishes to see you. Our brigade and De Costa's have been ordered to the front, as an advanced post. Such are the orders of Sir Rowland Hill. The condé would speak with you without delay, and our trumpets will sound 'to horse' in an hour."
"'Tis well, Lorenzo. I am in a true fighting mood to-day, and our troop of lancers are in glorious order. The Marquess de Montesa of Valencia," said Alvaro, introducing the stranger to Ronald, "the senior lieutenant of my lances."
"A sharp skirmish that was, in which we were engaged a short time ago, senor," said Montesa with a laugh. He was one of those gay fellows who laugh at every thing. "We appear to have shared alike in the misfortunes of war," he added, pointing to his left arm, which was bound up in his red Spanish scarf.
"Ha, marquess! your presence reminds me of what other thoughts had nearly driven from my memory. Look you, Senor Don Ronald," said Alvaro, displaying a golden cross suspended by a red-and-yellow riband. "We have been commissioned by my relative, Alfonso de Conquesta, Grand-master of the military order of Saint James of Spain, to invest you with this badge, and create you a knight-companion of our most honourable order, as a reward for your bravery at Almarez, accounts of which have been fully blazoned forth by the Gacetas of Madrid and other places."