As the old man spoke, the king’s face changed to a graver look than it seemed possible for those placid features to assume.
“I understand,” he answered, “while the King of Castile is without a dinner, his Regents and nobles feast. Alas! I am often weak in health, which leads me to shrink from the duties of my office, but, _por Dios_! I am strong in spirit, and I will settle these _caballeros_ as they deserve.”
That same night the Casa del Cordon, in the great Plaza of Burgos, where the Regents lived, was blazed bright as day. Circles of light blazed in the heavily mullioned casements of the front, where the arms of Mendoza Velasco appear within a deep entablature, surrounded by carved figures, each line and detail of the building defined by low Moorish lamps softly glimmering, and armorial shields. Crowds of men-at-arms and alguazils stationed along the street bore torches of resin, casting fiery gleams upon the pavement, crowded as far as the eye could reach with Burgolese notables come out to see the show, wrapped in their everlasting _mantos_.
Passing through a lofty guard-room with raftered ceiling--the walls hung with tapestry--where casques and shields of antique pattern shone out, side by side with crescent banners and scimitars captured from the Moors, the guests arrive and are ushered into a Gothic hall of sculptured oak heavily carved, a richly wrought balustraded gallery breaking the lines high up under the cornice. All the great names of Burgos are present. The Villacruces, De Vaca, Peralta, Gomez, Laynes, descendants of the Cid Campeador, Lerma, De Bilbas, and Mendoza, making their way to tables ranged transversely across the dais at the upper end, bright with golden lamps, fed with delicately-scented oil, each place set with cups and sturdy flagons enriched with jewels, trophies of Arab filigree work, taken from the Moors, and gilded shields all wreathed with fruit and flowers to represent a garden of delight.
In the centre of the board, on two chairs more elevated than the rest, sit the Archbishop of Toledo, his pale face outlined against the panels of dark oak; and opposite to him the courtly figure of the Marqués de Villena, his handsome features greatly set off by the quaint half-ecclesiastical costume he wears of the Master of Calatrava, with belt and sword, the cross of Christ embroidered on his breast.