Emperor as well as some others, and within the Cathedral
walls he receives the new title in the presence of countless
ecclesiastics and "all his vassals, great and small." The monarch's robe
was of marvelous work, and a crown of pure gold set with precious stones
was placed on his head, while the King of Navarre held his right hand
and the Bishop of Leon his left. Feastings and donations followed, but,
what was of vastly more importance, the new Emperor confirmed the
charters granted to various cities by his grandfather.

Again a great ceremony fills the old church. Ferdinand, later known as
the Saint, is baptized there in 1199. A year or two later, Innocent III
declares void the marriage of his father and mother, who were cousins,
and an interdict shrouds the land in darkness. Several years pass during
which the Pope turns a deaf ear to the entreaties of a devoted husband,
the King of Leon, to their children's claim, the intercession of Spanish
prelates, and the prayers of two nations who had good cause to rejoice
in the union of Leon and Castile. Then a victim of the yoke, which Spain
had voluntarily put on while Frederic of Germany and even Saint Louis of
France were defending their rights against the aggressions of the Holy
See, the good Queen Berenzuela, sadly took her way back to her father's
home, to the King of Castile.

His prerogative once established, Innocent III looked well after his
obedient subjects. When Spain was threatened by the most formidable of
all Moorish invasions, he published to all Christendom a bull of crusade
against the Saracens, and sent across the Pyrenees the forces which had
been gathering in France for war in Palestine. Rodrigo, Archbishop of
Toledo, preached the holy war and led his troops, in which he was joined
by the bishops of Bordeaux, Nantes, and Narbonne at the head of their
militia. Germany and Italy sent their quota of knights and soldiers of
fortune, and this concourse of Christian warriors, speaking innumerable
tongues, poured through mountain defiles and ever southward till they
met in lofty Toledo and camped on the banks of the Tagus. Marches,
skirmishes, and long-drawn-out sieges prelude the great day. The hot
Spanish summer sets in, the foreigners, growing languid in the arid
stretches of La Mancha, and disappointed at the slender booty meted out
to them, desert the native army, march northwards and again cross the
Pyrenees to return to their homes. It was thus left to