“Do your worst, craven,” shouts the Conde in a rage, spite of the whispers of the Infanta, seated behind him on a pad of the broad saddle, her arms clasped round his waist; “it shall never be said that Fernan Gonzales yielded to a pilfering clerk.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than, reddening with rage, the priest blew a long loud blast, among the ancient oaks. At this the Infanta could no longer keep silence. “Help, help!” she shouted, “for the Conde de Castila,” and Gonzales, though embarrassed with her weight, rode fiercely forward raising his hand to strike, for he had no sword. But the treacherous priest, setting spurs to his mule, galloped down the glade at headlong speed, sounding his horn. The noise he made was heard by others--the rattle of horses’ hoofs came rapidly in the wind, and a company of horsemen advanced with threatening aspect. “Ah, now is our time come!” cries the Infanta, “the vile priest has done for us. We cannot fly. Alack! alack! the evil day!” “Nay, comfort thee, sweet one,” answers Fernan, “I will face them, though I die.” At which the tears stream down Doña Ava’s face, and she clasps her arm tighter around him. “Now, by the heaven above us,” exclaims the Conde, “what miracle is this? It is my own dear standard--the banner of Castile! There is ‘the castle’ as large as life on its gold ground. Long may it flourish, the blessed sign. Draw near, draw near, my merry men! Behold, my sweet Infanta,”--stealing a hidden kiss--“these are my own true subjects! Castile, Castile to the rescue! Look, how bright are their lances! How the sun shines on the blades! Every sword is for my Ava; every sword gleams for her! Ah! there is my trusty knight, brave Nuño Ansares, who visited me in prison,” addressing the leader of the troop. “Never did vassal better serve his lord! The horn of that robber-priest, instead of harming us, has saved our lives. Now to Burgos ride, ride for our lives!” CHAPTER XXIV Marriage of Doña Ava and El Conde de Castila--Treachery of Doña Teresa Burgos was reached without further incident, and in a few days the marriage of the Conde and the Infanta was solemnised with great pomp in the church of Sant’ Agueda on the hill, under a mantle of delicate sculpture which lined the walls.[1] [1] The beautiful cathedral at Burgos was built later by Fernando El Santo, King of Castile. Now here it should be said, as in the fairy tales, “They married and lived happily ever after.” Not at all. We are only at the beginning of their troubles. The rage of Don Sancho of Leon and King Garcia of Navarre, the father of Doña Ava, knew no bounds. Genuine rage, for they had both been caught in their own trap, a thing utterly unbearable to malignant natures, be they kings or commons.