Prominent among the nobles who arrive is the Conde de Santilana, in the prime of life, with that soldierly bearing so noticeable in Spain among all who hold military command; Giron, Master of Calatrava, bland and mild, but withal shrewd and acute, as behoves one in his prominent position; Pimentel, Lord of Benevente, with strongly cut features on which many a wrinkle has gathered, not from age, but from the headlong impetuosity of his character, which has aged him before his time; the Grand Admiral of Castile, with a weather-beaten face, showing that he has lived a life of exposure; the Condes de Haro, Palencia, and Alba, besides prelates and _ricoshombres_, all men of commanding eminence in the kingdom. But one of the number is yet wanting, the archconspirator, Villena, who, although bearing the name of one of the regents, is of quite a different form. He is in reality the leading spirit of them all, a man tormented by the love of power, to attain which he is willing to meet, unmoved, peril, or even death, with the silent constancy of a Spaniard. No one hates Ledesma more than Villena, who, like the archbishop, was displaced for his sake; no one has more influence over those assembled here, not even the warlike archbishop, armed as for heaven and earth. As Villena enters, the importance of his mission is impressed upon every movement as he hastens to salute the exalted company, who rise as he appears, with the utmost expression of formal courtesy, then reseat themselves as he takes his seat at the council table beside them. “Lords of Castile and Leon,” he says, in a full, clear voice, as he rises to speak under the deep shadow of a deep-chiselled altar at his back, “my words shall be short, but my purpose will be long. Let none imagine that private vengeance for the affront put on me by the king, as also on my kinsman, the archbishop, actuates my mind. The existence of the state is at stake. I have a proposal to make.” “Speak!” comes from all sides. “I need not tell you, Grandezas, Prelates, and Ricoshombres, that the infatuation of the king blinds him even to his personal dishonour. The only redress lies in two courses, the dismissal and exile of Don Beltrano, or his own dethronement. Since the birth of the child, not issued from the blood of the Trastamares, but the ‘Beltraneja,’ the spurious offspring of Ledesma and the Queen, measures must be taken to insure the rightful succession to his young brother. In her cradle this young offspring of adultery was proclaimed Princess of the Asturias and successor to the throne, and is already affianced to the Duc de Guienne, son of Louis XI. of France. No time is to be lost.” “And if Don Enrique will not agree to either of these proposals?” asks the quick-tongued Lord of Benevente.