[21] Torrijos is sixteen miles north-west of Toledo, and eight miles from the Tagus, in a valley on the road from Maqueda to Toledo. It was walled, and still has two old gateways. Madoz gives it 480 houses, and in the plaza is the palace of the Count of Altamira, built of stone. The church is dedicated to San Gil. Here Beatriz, the daughter of King Pedro by Maria de Padilla, was born in 1353. The country round yields abundant oil, and the place is sometimes called Torrijos de los Olivares. [22] Maqueda is six leagues north-west of Toledo, built on a hill, on the margin of a stream of the same name which falls into the Alberche, a tributary of the Tagus. It has 112 houses, scattered along badly paved dirty streets. There is an old castle, and two churches, San Juan Bautista and San Domingo. Water is abundant. Maqueda was taken from the Moors by Alfonso VI. in 1083, and in 1177 it was granted to the knights of Calatrava. Ferdinand and Isabella made Diego de Cardenas Duke of Maqueda. [23] Small loaves made of the finest flour, offered to the Church. The Dictionary of the Spanish Academy quotes Lazarillo de Tormes as the authority for the meaning of this word. [Sidenote: Nothing in the clergyman’s house but an old chest, and a string of onions.] There was only a string of onions, and these were under lock and key in an upper chamber, one being allowed for every four days. If I asked for the key, to fetch the allowance, and any one else was present, he put his hand in his pocket, and gave it to me with great ceremony, telling me to take it and return at once without taking anything else; as if all the conserves of Valencia were there. Yet there was not a thing in the room but the onions hanging from a nail, and he kept such a strict account of them, that if I ever took more than my allowance it cost me dear. At last I was near dead with hunger. If he showed little charity to me, he treated himself as badly. Small bits of meat formed his usual food for dinner and supper. It is true that he shared the gravy with me, but nothing more except a small piece of bread. On Saturdays they eat sheep’s head in those parts, and my master sent me for one that was to cost three maravedis. He cooked it and ate all the eyes, tongue, brains, and the meat off the cheeks, giving me the well-picked bone on a plate, and saying, “Take! Eat! Triumph! for you is the world, and you live better than the Pope.” [Sidenote: Lazaro was sinking into the silent tomb from hunger.] At the end of three weeks I became so weak that I could scarcely stand on my feet for hunger. I saw myself sinking down into the silent tomb. If God and my own intelligence had not enabled me to avail myself of ingenious tricks, there would have been no remedy for me. [Sidenote: Extraordinary stinginess of the clergyman.]