Two days afterwards the troops occupied the town of Calzada de Orepesa, in the midst of which stood an old baronial fortalice, or square embattled tower, which was garrisoned by a party of Don Salvador de Zagala’s guerilla corps. Soon after seeing his light company dismissed to their several billets, Ronald, on passing this keep, was surprised to hear his name eagerly and distinctly called by some one within it; and on looking up at its huge gloomy front, beheld a hand beckoning to him through a narrow loop-hole, which was cut at the top and bottom for the ejection of arrows in the olden time. Who could be thus imprisoned here, and acquainted with his name, he was utterly at a loss to conjecture; but he turned to the guard of guerillas, who lay reposing on the earth in a cool shady place, under the masses of wild vines which straggled over the barbican wall, smoking cigars and burnishing their arms, which, as well as their dress, were of so motley a kind as to remind Ronald of his old acquaintances in the wood of La Nava. All wore the red military cockade of Spain fastened to the front of their broad hats or slouching caps. On inquiring who was imprisoned in the tower, they replied a ladrone or thief, and brought to him a guerilla, whom they dignified with the title of _Senor el Castellano_, _i.e._ the constable or governor of the castle, a huge-headed, broad-shouldered, brawny, and muscular fellow, who had evidently been a muleteer, but had resigned the whip and bells for the musket and poniard. He wore a pair of French epaulets on his mule-driver’s jacket; a sash encircled his waist, bearing a powder-horn, and several pistols and daggers; the large plume of some staff-officer decorated his sombrero, and his followers were most of them arrayed likewise in the trappings of the slain. The castellano received Ronald with much respect, and led him through the windings and intricacies of the ancient tower, which, with its round wheel-stairs, arched passages, and narrow loopholes, reminded him of the old pile at Lochisla. From the number of doors which were unlocked by huge clanking keys in their progress, Stuart was led to expect something extraordinary, but on reaching a solitary turret chamber, when the door was thrown open what was his surprise to behold Captain de Mesmai, whom he supposed to be in the castle of Albuquerque. He was miserably altered, and Ronald, while he beheld him, became filled with pity and indignation—pity for his situation, and indignation at the ungenerous Spaniards. His blue uniform had been stripped of its lace, epaulets, stars, and medals, and hung about him in tatters, showing his skin in many places. A guerilla on sentry at the door had appropriated the helmet and corslet of the 10th to himself. De Mesmai had been plundered of his boots, and his feet were in a miserable state in consequence of the long marches the guerillas had compelled him to make. He was thin and gaunt, and a beard