ey had hidden from the lion. Together they plotted to
take vengeance on them, and it was a vengeance as mean as their souls.

One morning they entered the great hall of Valencia, where the Cid was
sitting, and prayed him to give them their wives, and let them depart
forthwith to their lands. Their words were fair, yet the Cid felt
troubled; why, he knew not.

'I gave you my daughters to wife, at my king's bidding,' answered he at
last, 'and I cannot withhold them from you if indeed you desire to take
them unto your own lands. But see that they are treated as beseems
them; if not, woe to you.'

And the counts of Carrion, with treason in their hearts, promised that
all honour should await their brides.

Eight days hence, the procession passed out of the city gates, and the
Cid went first, with Dona Elvira on his right hand, and Dona Sol on his
left. For the space of a league he rode, and then he reined up his
horse. Calling his nephew Don Ordono to his side, he bade him follow
unperceived, and bring back news of what befell his daughters.

And so they parted.

For many miles the procession went slowly on, and was received with
kindness and hospitality by the great Moslem lords through whose country
the road lay, a kindness repaid whenever possible by theft and cruelty
by the counts of Carrion. Then, when they had reached a wood which was
neither in the lordship of the Cid nor of the Moors, they felt that the
time for which they had so long waited was come. Ordering the guards and
attendants to ride forward to the Castle of Carrion and prepare for
their reception, the counts scarcely delayed until they were out of
their sight before they dragged their wives from their mules, and
stripped their bodies bare. Next, seizing them by their hair, they flung
them to the ground, and dug their spurs into them till their bodies were
covered with blood.

'Farewell, beautiful damsels,' they cried mockingly, bowing low, 'you
were never fit mates for the counts of Carrion, and, besides, it was
needful to avenge the affront that the Cid your father put on us in the
matter of the fierce beast who would have slain us.' And, stooping low
from their horses, the base knights rode away.

From a distant hill Don Ordono had seen and heard all that had passed,
and he now came forth to help and comfort his cousins. 'Take heart,' he
said, 'I will bring you your lost garments, and if you have lost your
husbands, who deserve nothing better th