All silent was the town-house where the Cid was wont to bide;
Both lock and bar were on the gates, he might not enter there.
Then from a casement spoke a maid who had the house in care:
“My lord Don Roderick, who took the sword in happy hour,
The King hath sent a letter broad to ban from hall and bower
Both thee and all thy company, ’tis doom to shelter one;
Never again who aids thee shall his eyes look on the sun.
Now go, and Goddës help with thee, thy pity we implore;
In all broad Spain thou canst not lack, O Cid Campéador.”
Finding no place to lay their heads within the town, the Cid with his men rode disconsolately to the plain of Glera, to the east of Burgos, where he pitched his tents on the banks of the river Arlanzon. To him came Martin Antolinez, one of his former vassals, who brought food and wine for all his train and strove to comfort him. Not a maravedi had the Cid, and how to furnish his men with arms and food he knew not. But he and Antolinez took counsel together, and hit upon a plan by which they hoped to procure the necessary sinews of war. Taking two large chests, they covered them with red leather and studded them with gilt nails, so that they made a brave outward show. Then they filled the chests with sand from the river-banks and locked them securely.