ind him, "dispose of these
bodies. Throw the heretic dogs into the old well yonder. Give our
martyred friends Christian burial."

He sat his horse idly toying with his dagger, and forced me to watch my
servants, the wounded and the dead, being cast into the yawning
darkness of the well.

"God's blood! here is our sweet young Philip. What, not yet dead!
Why, it matters not, cast him in." This in answer to a questioning
look from the more merciful Perez.

The men at arms had extricated from a heap of slain the limp body of my
youngest brother, a boy of twenty, his pallid face gaping open from a
cut across the cheek. He lifted his eyes languidly to mine.

"Oh brother, you are come. Some water, water," he murmured.

"Throw him in, men," Ortez interrupted.

Perez yet hesitated.

"Shall we not first dispatch him, sire?"

"No, I would not harm my gentle brother; throw him in. Be not slow
about it either, thou chicken-hearted bullies; pitch him in."

The men started to obey this savage order.

"Hound of hell!" I screamed, tortured beyond endurance, and struggling
at my bonds.

Ortez slapped me in the face with his gauntlet, then laying his hand
upon my shoulder said with assumed gentleness:

"Calm yourself, my dear brother; think of your unbandaged wounds; they
may bleed afresh."

Philip was conscious as the men bore him to the edge of the well, but
powerless to resist four stout fellows who cast him headlong amongst
the dead and dying to mingle his groans and blood with theirs. Oh,
that God should permit to men such deeds, and grant that men should
witness them! When the last body had been disposed of, Ortez led the
way to the banquet hall, inviting all his rabble to join the feast.
The banquet hall, used as it was to scenes of turbulence, never perhaps
had looked upon such a throng as that. I occupied the head of my own
table, strapped helpless in my seat. On either side were vacant
chairs. Ortez sat at the foot. Between, the soldiery ranged
themselves as they pleased. One of the troopers coming in late would
have taken his place beside me, but his Captain stopped him:

"Not there, Gardier; we have other and fairer guests for whom those
seats are kept."

Almost as he spoke the chairs on either side of me were slipped away,
and after awhile as silently returned to their places.

Sacrament of passion! In one of them was bound the mutilated corpse of
my queenly wife, her fingers hacked off and