He agreed that Don Pedro was now the minor peril. It
is evil to chain thought! In our day we think boldly of a
number of things. But touch King or touch Church--the
cord is around your neck!

I said that I supposed I had been rash.

He nodded. "Yes. You were rash that day in the oak
wood. Less rash, and my bones would be lying there, under
tree." He rose and walked the room, then came to me and
put his unhurt arm about my shoulders. "Don Jayme, we
swore that day comrade love and service--and that day is
now; twilight has never come to it, the leaves of the oak
wood have never fallen! The Holy Office shall not have
thee!"

"Don Enrique--"

We sat down and drank each a little wine, and fell to
ways and means.

I rested Juan Lepe in the household of Don Enrique de
Cerda, one figure among many, involved in the swarm of
fighting and serving men. There was a squire who had
served him long. To this man, Diego Lopez, I was committed,
with enough told to enlist his intelligence. He managed
for me in the intricate life of the place with a skill to
make god Mercury applaud. Don Enrique and I were rarely
together, rarely were seen by men to speak one to the other.
But in the inner world we were together.