Passing an outer barbican with two low towers the Patio de las Banderas, where floats the flag of Spain, a dark corridor leads to the inner Patio de la Monteria, where the portal of Don Pedro blazes in the sun, a glittering blending of red, blue, and gold, set on snowy surfaces of finest fretwork; painted roofs casting rich shadows, arabesques formed into Cufic letters, diapered borders parting into groups of horseshoe arches, and a Gothic inscription setting forth “that the most high and powerful Don Pedro, by the Grace of God King of Castile and Leon, ordered these castles and fortresses to be re-erected.” The magic of it all is wonderful, coming into sight as it does, rising tier above tier, parapet on parapet, in a glow of Oriental colour, to a central dome cutting against the azure sky; the door a curious mosaic of dark wood, and on either side low marble benches, sunk into the arcaded carvings of the wall, where the young King Don Pedro sat to administer justice to all who came, while his dark-haired mistress, Maria de Padilla, watched from above, leaning out of the central _mirador_ (window) of her chamber, still used as a retiring room for the queens of Spain. * * * * * One morning Don Pedro, taking his place as usual, surrounded by his alguazils, commanded that certain men should be brought before him whose arrest he had ordered as they were drifting down the Guadalquivir with the tide to Cadiz upon a wooden raft. His knitted brows and sinister aspect boded ill to the rough-looking countrymen brought trembling into the court. “How comes it, fellows,” asks the king, his steely-blue eyes fixed on the foremost man, “that you dare to come to Seville to cheat me of the dues on the timber that floats down the stream? Think you you will escape unpunished?” “O King,” one of the men answers, falling on his knees, “in what have we offended? We are four poor men from Puerta Santa Maria, incapable of deceiving any one--much less your royal Grace.” “Liar!” roars the young king, starting from [Illustration: THE BURGOS CATHEDRAL.] his seat. “Look at me. Do you not know me?” “No, my lord, I have never to my knowledge set eyes on you before.” “You did not meet me last night upon the quay?” “No, my liege.” “Come now,” and a cynical smile spreads over his fair young face, “remember! Did not a stranger help you to unload a raft? A fellow you found sleeping under a boat wrapped in a cloak? Did you not wake him and promise to pay him well, if he would aid you to land certain timber so that you might start before sunrise?” “O King, it is true; we spoke with such a fellow--mean, almost in rags--and he did help us after sunset to land some wood. We paid him and let him go, and the king’s dues on it were lodged at the Torre d’Oro before we left.”