Teodomir, a veteran general, comes next; as too rigid a disciplinarian for the degenerate times, he has somewhat fallen into neglect among the younger chiefs who have risen to power with the accession of the king. Teodomir is well past the prime of life, but retains the keen eye and stalwart limbs of youth, as at the head of an army he will show before many years are past. The historic warrior, Pelistes, is here too, already sunk into the vale of years, but, like Teodomir, strong and ready of hand and purpose, his grizzled hair shading a noble countenance. These two trusty chiefs, who present themselves in the antiquated armour of the Goths, were close friends of Roderich’s father, and were specially active in raising the hasty levies for the battle which placed his son on the throne; spite of which services, as time goes by, they find themselves somewhat disregarded by the young king, who listens to more flattering counsels and secretly laughs at the rustic virtues applauded in the days of Recaredo and Wamba. The royal lad Pelayo is also bidden, the son of that Favila, Dux of Cantabria, put to death by Witica, when he purposed to slaughter all of his blood. Pelayo stands somewhat back as becomes his youth, for who can guess that this beardless boy, with a smiling, artless face, and full blue Northern eyes will, by his fortitude, become the founder of a new race of Gothic kings, and by his endurance and valour raise up a native dynasty in Spain? A crowd of young courtiers, most careful of the adornment of their persons, fill up the space behind, apparelled in long embroidered mantles of many brilliant shades, held in by jewelled cinctures and buckles, elaborately worked caps upon their heads (the first idea of the later _toque_ of the Renaissance)--fashions which have taken the place of the short tunic, leather girdle, and heavy head-piece of former times.