Now the festival had continued far into the night, and, as the fumes of the generous wine mounted to their brains, the guests spoke more and more openly to each other. Again had the voice of the minstrel been raised, during a momentary pause, as he intoned with extraordinary power and skill _The March of Bernardo del Carpio_: With three thousand men of Leon, from the city Bernardo goes To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo’s woes. And as his notes rang out in the great hall, the enthusiasm he excited so mastered the stately company that they rose _en masse_ to drink to the health of Castile. “And of the Regents!” cried Mendoza, “our capable leaders! Don Enrique must be put aside. He is sick and unfit to reign. What say you, Caballeros? Methinks the race of Trastamare is played out.” “Agreed! agreed!” came from all sides. “And who can better replace him than the Regents?” cried the Conde de Lerma, who had good reason to tremble lest, when the young king came to reign, he should discover the villainies of which he had been guilty. “And I! and I!” shouted Velasco and Peralta, tossing high their goblets. Indeed, the whole company was in a state of violent excitement, to which not only the wine, but the patriotic ballads of the minstrel had much contributed. “My lords! my lords!” cried the archbishop, rising from his seat, seriously alarmed at the imprudent vehemence of his partisans, “these are matters not to be lightly mentioned. Such words are treason if they get abroad. To-morrow is the _fiesta_ of the young king. His Grace has invited us to a special _tertulia_ in honour of the event. I drink to his health, and better capacity to fill the high place he inherits!” A palpable sneer was in his voice as he added these words in a low tone. “Yes, the _fiesta_ of our king,” added the Marqués de Villena, amid a general chorus of mocking laughter. He was no more loyal than the prelate, but less hypocritical, and, like him, fully aware of the dangerous consequences, should any premature knowledge of a conspiracy get abroad. “I pray you, Grandezas, to disperse quietly. Whatever be in your minds, this is no place to discuss it.” And so they parted, each one to his abode, attended by bands of armed followers with torches. The singer was left alone, but he was met at the portal by a friend, attired like himself as an _estudiante_, and thus together they passed unheeded into the night. * * * * * Great curiosity was felt, especially by Don Pedro de Mendoza, the treasurer, as to how the king had obtained money to defray the expenses of the _tertulia_ which had been announced. Mendoza knew that the coffers were empty. Had he borrowed money from the King of Aragon, or some powerful northern noble? Had he unearthed a treasure, or contracted with the Jews? If so, how could it happen that he was ignorant of it?