Chapter XCI

Now pitched are the pavilions. Apace the morning comes. And furiously the heathen beat loud upon the drums. "'Tis a great day," with a glad heart so now the lord Cid spake. But his lady was sore frighted, her heart was like to break; The ladies and his daughters were likewise all forlorn. Never had they heard such a din since the day when they were born.

Therewith the great Cid Campeador with his hand he plucked his beard. "This shall all be to your vantage. Therefore be not afeard. Ere fifteen days are over, if so God's will it be, We shall take those drums and show them you. What they are then shall you see. And then unto the Bishop don Jerome they shall be given; They will hang them in Saint Mary's, Mother of the Lord in Heaven."

It was a vow most solemn that my lord the Cid had made. Now merry were the ladies and not so much afraid. Those Moors out of Morocco in mighty haste they sped, And on into the gardens they entered without dread.