"Yet I found you with him on the balcony."
"I swear it," she repeated, "he was but singing to me."
The captain heaved his shoulders with so great a shrug that the ringlets of his coat of mail jangled and clinked. "I have my orders," he said, "which come from the king himself."
"The king?" She snapped her fingers. "And who orders the king? He would obey my slightest wish."
"No use, dame. Nor heaven nor hell could save this squire from his death. As for the eunuch, he will mayhap be spared, if thou so wish it. He is thy servant—and his life at thy command." The negro whined and moaned and crept to kiss her feet.
But Suelva flung herself back. "What care I for his foul black hide?
'Tis the young squire's life I crave."
"Then both must die."
"Mother Mary! But let me hold him in my arms." She tore the jester's burden from him, and staggering under its weight, turned to the middle of the room. Then she saw, for the first time, the bier and what it bore. She gasped, and let the squire's body sink in a huddled heap on the floor. "Who is it?" she asked, crossing herself. She looked closer. "Yes, I remember thee, fond old mute. Pha! but thou smellest of the grave. And why have they left thee lying here, this fortnight?"
From the dark corner came a stifled cry and piping gurgle. "My lady, oh, my lady!"
"How now, black; let go my skirt."