The Murder of the Master of Saint Iago

"I sat alone in Coimbra—the town myself had ta'en,—
When came into my chamber, a messenger from Spain;
There was no treason in his look, an honest look he wore;
I from his hand the letter took,—my brother's seal it bore.

"Come, brother dear, the day draws near," ('twas thus bespoke the King),
"For plenar court and knightly sport, within the listed ring."—
Alas! unhappy Master, I easy credence lent;
Alas! for fast and faster I at his bidding went.

"When I set off from Coimbra, and pass'd the bound of Spain,
I had a goodly company of spearmen in my train;
A gallant force, a score of horse, and sturdy mules thirteen;
With joyful heart I held my course—my years were young and green.

"A journey of good fifteen days within the week was done;
I halted not, though signs I got, dark tokens many a one;
A strong stream master'd horse and mule, I lost my poniard fine,
And left a page within the pool, a faithful page of mine.

"Yet on to proud Seville I rode; when to the gate I came,
Before me stood a man of God, to warn me from the same;
The words he spake I would not hear, his grief I would not see,
I seek, said I, my brother dear—I will not stop for thee.

"Now lists were closed upon the sand, for royal tournéy dight;
No pawing horse was seen to stand, I saw no armed knight;
Yet aye I gave my mule the spur, and hasten'd through the town,
I stopt before his palace-door, then gaily leapt I down.

"They shut the door, my trusty score of friends were left behind;
I would not hear their whisper'd fear, no harm was in my mind;
I greeted Pedro, but he turn'd—I wot his look was cold;
His brother from his knee he spurn'd—"Stand off, thou Master bold—

"Stand off, stand off, thou traitor strong," 'twas thus he said to me,
"Thy time on earth shall not be long—what brings thee to my knee?
My Lady craves a New-year's gift, and I will keep my word;
Thy head methinks may serve the shift—Good yeoman, draw thy sword."

The Master lay upon the floor ere well that word was said,
Then in a charger off they bore his pale and bloody head;
They brought it to Padilla's chair, they bow'd them on the knee,
"King Pedro greets thee, Lady fair, his gift he sends to thee."—

She gazed upon the Master's head, her scorn it could not scare,
And cruel were the words she said, and proud her glances were;
"Thou now shalt pay, thou traitor base, the debt of many a year,
My dog shall lick that haughty face; no more that lip shall sneer."—

She seized it by the clotted hair, and o'er the window flung;
The mastiff smelt it in his lair, forth at her cry he sprung;—
The mastiff that had crouch'd so low to lick the Master's hand,
He toss'd the morsel to and fro, and lick'd it on the sand.

And ever as the mastiff tore, his bloody teeth were shown,
With growl and snort he made his sport, and pick'd it to the bone.
The baying of the beast was loud, and swiftly on the street
There gather'd round a gaping crowd, to see the mastiff eat.

Then out and spake King Pedro, "What governance is this?
The rabble rout, my gate without, torment my dogs, I wiss."—
Then out and spake King Pedro's page, "It is the Master's head,
The mastiff tears it in his rage, therewith they him have fed."—

Then out and spake the ancient Nurse, that nursed the brothers twain,
"On thee, King Pedro, lies the curse, thy brother thou hast slain;
A thousand harlots there may be within the realm of Spain,
But where is she can give to thee thy brother back again?"—

Came darkness o'er King Pedro's brow, when thus he heard her say;
He sorely rued the accursed vow he had fulfilled that day;
He pass'd unto his paramour, where on her couch she lay,
Leaning from out her painted bower, to see the mastiff's play.

He drew her to a dungeon dark, a dungeon strong and deep;
"My father's son lies stiff and stark, and there are few to weep.
Fadrique's blood for vengeance calls, his cry is in mine ear;
Thou art the cause, thou harlot false, in darkness lie thou here."—