ale of mine had
been useless, the lame repetition in prose of songs that your nurses
had sung to you. But they fought unseen by those that see for the Muses.
Rodriguez advanced upon his chosen adversary and, having briefly bowed,
they engaged at once. And Rodriguez belaboured his helm till dints
appeared, and beat it with swift strokes yet till the dints were
cracks, and beat the cracks till hair began to appear: and all the
while his adversary's strokes grew weaker and wilder, until he tottered
to earth and Rodriguez had won. Swift then as cats, while Morano kept
off others, Rodriguez leaped to his throat, and, holding up the
stiletto that he had long ago taken as his legacy from the host of the
Dragon and Knight, he demanded the fallen man's castle as ransom for
his life.
"My castle, senor?" said his prisoner weakly.
"Yes," said Rodriguez impatiently.
"Yes, senor," said his adversary and closed his eyes for awhile.
"Does he surrender his castle, master?" asked Morano.
"Yes, indeed," said Rodriguez. They looked at each other: all at last
was well.
The battle was rolling away from them and was now well within the
enemy's tents.
History says of that day that the good men won. And, sitting, a Muse
upon her mythical mountain, her decision must needs be one from which
we may not appeal: and yet I wonder if she is ever bribed. Certainly
the shrewd sense of Morano erred for once; for those for whom he had
predicted victory, because they prepared so ostentatiously upon the
field, were defeated; while the others, having made their preparations
long before, were able to cheer themselves with song before the battle
and to win it when it came.
And so Rodriguez was left undisturbed in possession of his prisoner and
with the promise of his castle as a ransom. The battle was swiftly
over, as must needs be where little armies meet so close. The enemy's
camp was occupied, his army routed, and within an hour of beginning the
battle the last of the fighting ceased.
The army returned to its tents to rejoice and to make a banquet,
bringing with them captives and horses and other spoils of war. And
Rodriguez had honour among them because he had fought on the right and
so was one of those that had broken the enemy's left, from which
direction victory had come. And they would have feasted him and done
him honour, both for his work with the sword and for his songs to the
mandolin; and they would have marched away soon to
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