could get across the trench.

'Oh, fool was I not to have fastened on my spurs, and then I should have
caught him!' cried Don Rodrigo shaking with rage, as he turned sadly
back to stand by the bedside of his dying master, waiting for the
vengeance which the future would bring.

* * * * *

Now directly she heard that King Sancho was dead, Dona Urraca, his
sister, the lady of Zamora, sent the tidings to her brother, Don
Alfonso, in exile at Toledo.

'We have been sent to summon you, King Alfonso,' said the messengers
when they found him, falling on their knees as they spoke. 'Don Sancho
was foully stabbed by Bellido el Dolfos, and the men of Castile and Leon
call on you to take his place. Don Rodrigo only hangs back, and swears
he will never take the oath of fealty till you have proved that you had
no part in the murder of your brother.'

Don Alfonso felt glad at their words. He had received nothing but ill at
the hands of his brother, and he hurried to place himself at the head of
the army of Castile. But the Arab ruler was not willing to let him go,
and many days passed before he was able to escape at night, climbing
silently with a few followers down the walls of Toledo; then, turning
the shoes on the feet of their horses, so that the track should point
south instead of north, they made the best of their way to Zamora.

The nobles received the king with joy, and, kneeling to kiss his hand,
vowed to be true to him. The Cid alone held aloof.

'You are heir to the throne, Don Alfonso,' said he, 'but before I bend
the knee to you I demand that you and twelve of your vassals shall swear
that you are innocent, in deed or in word, of the blood of your
brother.'

'I will swear it,' answered Alfonso, 'when and where you please, and
twelve men of Leon shall swear it likewise.'

'You shall swear to me in the holy cathedral of Santa Gadea in Burgos,'
said the Cid; and thither they all rode silently and solemnly, while Don
Rodrigo, standing at the altar, held out the crucifix to the kneeling
king. But though the oath was taken freely, both by Alfonso and his
vassals, deep in the heart of the Cid lay a doubt of his truth.

'You shall swear it thrice,' he said, and Alfonso, devoured as he was
with rage, knew the Cid's power too well to disobey, though his face
grew pale with wrath.

'You shall answer for this,' he cried as he rose to his feet, and from
that day the king never ceased to se