And upon the hauberks ermines and mantles of the vair Let them lace tight their armour, let not the arms be seen. They shall bear beneath their mantles the swords both sweet and keen. To the court in such a fashion to enter am I fain, My rights there to demand them and to speak my meaning plain. If there the Heirs of Carrión seek to dishonor me, No whit then shall I fear them, though a hundred strong they be." To him all gave their answer: "Such, lord, is our desire," Even as he had commanded they ordered their attire. He who in happy hour was born would brook no more delay. Upon his legs the hosen of fair cloth he drew straightway, And shoes adorned most richly upon his feet has done; he donned a shirt of linen fine as white as is the sun; The sleeves are laced, moreover, with gold and silver braid. The cuff fit close upon them for he bade them so be made. Thereo'er a silken tunic most fairly wrought he drew. The threads of gold shone brightly that were woven through and through. A red fur gown gold-belted he cast his tunic o'er. That gown alway he weareth, my lord Cid Campeador. He hath of finest linen a cap upon his hair, With the gold wrought, moreover, and fashioned with due care, That the locks of the good Campeador might not be disarrayed. And with a cord his mighty beard my lord the Cid doth braid. All this he did desiring well his person to dispose. O'er his attire a mantle of mighty worth he throws. Thereat might all men wonder that thereabouts did stand. Then with the chosen hundred whereto he gave command From San Serván forth issuing he got to horse apace. Under arms the Cid departed unto the judgment-place. Duly without the postern he descended from his horse, And prudently he entered the palace with his force. Midmost he went; his hundred girt him round on every side. When they had seen him enter, who was born in happy tide, Then the good King Alfonso upon his feet did rise, So also Count don Henry, and Count don Remónd likewise. And they arose, the others of the court, ye well may know. To him who in good hour was born great honor did they show. One man there was arose not--'twas Crespo de Grañón-- Nor any of the party of the Heirs of Carrión. The King has ta'en my lord Cid's hand: "Come sit thee, Campeador, On the bench here beside me--thy gift to me of yore. Thou art our better, though there be umbrage therefor that take." Then he who won Valencia for gratitude he spake: "Sit like a king and master on thy bench, for it is thine; In this station will I tarry here with these men of mine."