“Stay, friend,” interposed the queen, “these accused are the subjects of our good brother, Henry of England, and may not understand our language, though one of them, I think”—and she glanced at Castell—“was not born in England, or at any rate of English blood. Ask them if they need an interpreter.” The question was put, and all of them answered that they could speak Spanish, though Peter added that he did so but indifferently. “You are the knight, I think, who is charged with the commission of this crime,” said Isabella, looking at him. “Your Majesty, I am not a knight, only a plain esquire, Peter Brome of Dedham in England. My father was a knight, Sir Peter Brome, but he fell at my side, fighting for Richard, on Bosworth Field, where I had this wound,” and he pointed to the scar upon his face, “but was not knighted for my pains.” Isabella smiled a little, then asked: “And how came you to Spain, Señor Peter Brome?” “Your Majesty,” answered Peter, Margaret helping from time to time when he did not know the Spanish words, “this lady at my side, the daughter of the merchant John Castell who stands by her, is my affianced——” “Then you have won the love of a very beautiful maiden, Señor,” interrupted the queen; “but proceed.” “She and her cousin, the Señora Dene, were kidnapped in London by one who I understand is the nephew of the King Ferdinand, and an envoy to the English court, who passed there as the Señor d’Aguilar, but who in Spain is the Marquis of Morella.” “Kidnapped! and by Morella!” exclaimed the queen. “Yes, your Majesty, cozened on board his ship and kidnapped. The Señor Castell and I followed them, and, boarding their vessel, tried to rescue them, but were shipwrecked at Motril. The marquis carried them away to Granada, whither we followed also, I being sorely hurt in the shipwreck. There, in the palace of the marquis, we have lain prisoners many weeks, but at length escaped, purposing to come to Seville and seek the protection of your Majesties. On the road, while we were dressed as Moors, in which garb we compassed our escape, we were attacked by men that we thought were bandits, for we had been warned against such evil people. One of them rudely molested the Dona Margaret, and I cut him down, and by misfortune killed him, for which manslaughter I am here before you to-day. Your Majesty, I did not know that he was a soldier of the Holy Hermandad, and I pray you pardon my offence, which was done in ignorance, fear, and anger, for we are willing to pay compensation for this unhappy death.” Now some in the court exclaimed: “Well spoken, Englishman!” Then the queen said: “If all this tale be true, I am not sure that we should blame you over much, Señor Brome; but how know we that it is true? For instance, you said that the noble marquis stole two ladies, a deed of which I can scarcely think him capable. Where then is the other?” “I believe,” answered Peter, “that she is now the wife of the Marquis of Morella.”