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now go back to their own country. And grief seized on Rodriguez at his words, seeing that he was to lose four old
friends at once and perhaps for ever, for when men have fought under the same banner in war they become old
friends on that morning.
"Senors," said Rodriguez, "we may never meet again!"
And the other looked back to the peaks beyond which the far lands lay, and made a gesture with his hands.
"Senor, at least," said Rodriguez, "let us camp once more together."
And even Morano babbled a supplication.
"Methinks, senor," he answered, "we are already across the frontier, and when we men of the sword cross
frontiers misunderstandings arise, so that it is our custom never to pass across them save when we push the
frontier with us, adding the lands over which we march to those of our liege lord."
"Senors," said Rodriguez, "the whole mountain is the frontier. Come with us one day further." But they would
not stay.
All the good things that could be carried they loaded on to the three horses whose heads were turned
towards Spain; then turned, all four, and said farewell to the three. And long looked each in the face of Rodriguez
as he took his hand in fare well, for they had fought under the same banner and, as wayfaring was in those days,
it was not likely that they would ever meet again. They turned and went with their horses back towards the land
they had fought for.
Rodriguez and his captive and Morano went sadly down the mountain. They came to the fir woods, and
rested, and Morano cooked their dinner. And after a while they were able to ride their horses.
They came to the foot of the mountains, and rode on past the Inn of the World's End. They camped in the
open; and all night long Rodriguez or Morano guarded the captive.
For two days and part of the third they followed their old course, catching sight again and again of the river
Segre; and then they turned further west ward to come to Aragon further up the Ebro. All the way they avoided
houses and camped in the open, for they kept their captive to themselves: and they slept warm with their ample
store of blankets. And all the while the captive seemed morose or ill at ease, speaking seldom and, when he did,
in nervous jerks.
Morano, as they rode, or by the camp fire at evening, still questioned him now and then about his castle; and
sometimes he almost seemed to contradict himself, but in so vast a castle may have been many styles of
architecture, and it was difficult to trace a contradiction among all those towers and turrets. His name was Don
Alvidar-of-the-Rose-pink-Castle on-Ebro.
One night while all three sat and gazed at the camp-fire as men will, when the chilly stars are still and the
merry flames are leaping, Rodriguez, seeking to cheer his captive's mood, told him some of his strange adventures.
The captive listened with his sombre air. But when Rodriguez told how they woke on the mountain after their
journey to the sun; and the sun was shining on their faces in the open, but the magician and his whole house
were gone; then there came another look into Alvidar's eyes. And Rodriguez ended his tale and silence fell,
broken only by Morano saying across the fire, "It is true," and the captive's thoughtful eyes gazed into the
darkness. And then he also spoke.
"Senor," he said, "near to my rose-pink castle which looks into the Ebro dwells a magician also."
"Is it so?" said Rodriguez.
"Indeed so, senor," said Don Alvidar. "He is my enemy but dwells in awe of me, and so durst never molest me
except by minor wonders."
"How know you that he is a magician?" said Rodriguez.
"By those wonders," answered his captive. "He afflicts small dogs and my poultry. And he wears a thin, high
hat: his beard is also extraordinary."
"Long?" said Morano.
"Green," answered Don Alvidar.
"Is he very near the castle?" said Rodriguez and Morano together.
"Too near," said Don Alvidar.
"Is his house wonderful?" Rodriguez asked.
"It is a common house," was the answer. "A mean, long house of one story. The walls are white and it is well
thatched. The windows are painted green; there are two doors in it and by one of them grows a rose tree."
"A rose tree?" exclaimed Rodriguez.
"It seemed a rose tree," said Don Alvidar.
"A captive lady chained to the wall perhaps, changed by magic," suggested Morano.
"Perhaps," said Don Alvidar.
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