No reply comes. Gotor hastily turns towards the door, but the impetuous Morales is before him. The heavy panels turn on their hinges, the lock closes loudly in the silence, and Luna is again alone. * * * * * What could those devoted servants do against the strong force under Conde de Zuniga? A few crossbows were discharged, some swords were drawn. Morales fell wounded, Gotor was taken prisoner, and the besieged were overpowered. Zuniga, furious at the opposition, appeared on the platform in front of the castle gate clad in a complete suit of dark armour greaved with steel, wearing his visor down, preceded by a herald bearing the red and yellow flag of Spain. “In the name of Don Juan, King of Castile and Leon,” cries the herald. “Oh, hear, hear him. I, Don Alfonso de Zuniga, leading the armies of the king, command Don Alvarez de Luna, Constable of Castile and Leon, instantly to surrender his person for trial on the charge of foul murder, or the castle of Portello shall be consigned to the flames. Lord High Constable, I call on you, in the king’s name, to answer.” “I am here to reply to the Conde de Zuniga,” answers Luna, appearing under the arch of a Gothic window over the gallery, with the same dignity of presence as if he were receiving him as a guest. A blind confidence in his power over the king still possesses him, and, besides, to his haughty spirit, the humiliation of submission to his enemies is bitterer than death. “Answer me also. What mean you, Don Alfonso de Zuniga, by besieging my castle?” A tone of offended dignity is in his voice, but he does not condescend to any other expression. “I come on a warrant from the king,” answers Zuniga, displaying a parchment which he hands to the herald, who holds it up extended on a lance. “The king!” cries Luna, with more passion than he has yet shown. “It is a lie! This is some foul scheme to trap me into your hands.” “Look at that document,” cries Zuniga, chafing under the insolent bearing of the constable, and as the sun, which has now risen, shines upon the rocky platform on which they stand before the castle, the brilliant colours of “the castle and the lion,” are plainly displayed emblazoned on the sheet. “If you submit,” continues Zuniga, advancing to where Luna stands at the casement, “such respect as your rank entitles you to is guaranteed; I swear it on the honour of a Castilian. My orders are to conduct you to Valladolid in honourable custody, and to demand your sword.” “Take my life with it, if you list!” cries Luna, in a voice of bitter anguish, “if my lord and master has in truth given me into your hands.” * * * * *