“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 their own country and would have taken him with them and advanced him to honour there.  But Rodriguez would not stay with them for he had his castle at last, and must needs march off at once with his captive and Morano to see the fulfilment of his dream.  And therefore he thanked the leaders of that host with many a courtesy and many a well-bent bow, and explained to them how it was about his castle, and felicitated them on the victory of their good cause, and so wished them farewell.  And they said farewell sorrowfully:  but when they saw he would go, they gave him horses for himself and Morano, and another for his captive; and they heaped them with sacks of provender and blankets and all things that could give him comfort upon a journey:  all this they brought him out of their spoils of war, and they would give him no less that the most that the horses could carry.  And then Rodriguez turned to his captive again, who now stood on his feet.

“Senor,” he said, “pray tell us all of your castle wherewith you ransom your life.”

“Senor,” he answered, “I have a castle in Spain.”

“Master,” broke in Morano, his eyes lighting up with delight, “there are no castles like the Spanish ones.”

They got to horse then, all three; the captive on a horse of far poorer build than the other two and well-laden with sacks, for Rodriguez took no chance of his castle cantering, as it were, away from him on four hooves through the dust.