At sight of me his bloodshot eyes grew round with wonder, and for a little season a deathly calm preceded the thunder of his voice.
“Sainted Host!” he roared at last. “What trickery may this be?” And sidling his horse nearer he tore aside the curtains of my litter.
Out of faces pale as death the craven grooms looked on, to behold me reclining there, my cloak flung down across my legs to hide my boots, and my motley garb of red and black and yellow all revealed. I believe their astonishment by far surpassed the Captain’s own.
“You are choicely met, Ser Ramiro,” I greeted him. Then, seeing that he only stared, and made no shift to speak: “Maybe,” quoth I, “you’ll explain why you detain me. I am in haste.”
“Explain?” he thundered. “Sangue di Cristo! The burden of explaining lies with you. What make you here?”
“Why,” answered I, in tones of deep astonishment, “I am about the business of the Lord Cardinal of Valencia, our master.”
“Davvero?” he jeered. He stretched out a mighty paw, and took me by the collar of my doublet. “Now, bethink you how you answer me, or there will be a fool the less in the world.”
“Indeed, the world might spare more.”
He scowled at my pleasantry. To him, apparently, the situation afforded no scope for philosophical reflections.
“Where is the girl?” he asked abruptly.