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Updated: May 24, 2025
That of the infidels lay in the neighborhood of Baeza, and extended to the Sierra Morena. On July 12th, A.H. 608, the crusaders reached the mountainous chain which divides New Castile from Andalusia. They found not only the passes, but the summits of the mountains, occupied by the Almohades.
It was empty now and black, but at the far end, as at the end of a tunnel, the Rambla blazed and roared and the crowds swung past like a procession. "It is best that we should separate here," said Lopez Baeza, "if you have no further instructions." "Touching the matter of those ships," Hillyard suggested. "Señor Fairbairn has it in hand." "Good.
"Not because I trust Juan de Maestre, but because he couldn't have invented the information. He hasn't the knowledge." Lopez Baeza agreed. "Juan de Maestre is keeping faith with us," he said shortly, and, to the judgment of Lopez Baeza, Hillyard had learnt to incline a ready ear. "This is the real thing, Hillyard," said Fairbairn, pulling at his moustache. "Look!" He handed to Martin a chart.
"It is my honour to welcome you not merely as my chief, but as an Englishman. I am poor, and I take my pay, but Señor Baeza will assure you that for twenty-five years I have been the friend of England.
Hillyard could only move slowly through the press. Every one dawdled. Hillyard dawdled too. He passed the Opera House, and a little further down saw across the carriage-way, Lopez Baeza in front of a lighted tobacco shop at the corner of a narrow street. Hillyard crossed the carriage-way and Baeza turned into the street, a narrow thoroughfare between tall houses and dark as a cavern.
The door was opened, and a heavy, elderly man, wearing glasses on his nose, stood in the entrance with the light of an unshaded lamp behind him. "Ramon, it is the chief," said Baeza. Ramon Castello crossed the room and closed an inner door. Then he invited Hillyard to enter. The room was bare but for a few pieces of necessary furniture, but all was scrupulously clean.
Hillyard struck a match and held it to his companion's cigar. "And you trust Ramon, Señor Baeza?" Lopez Baeza leaned back with a gesture of unqualified assent. "As often and often you can trust the peasant of my country," he said. Hillyard agreed with a nod. He gazed about the room. "There is no one interesting here to-night," he said idly. "No," answered Lopez Baeza.
It cannot be the ensign of any single commander or community, for none would venture single-handed to attack you. It appears to be a dog, which device is borne by the towns of Baeza and Ubeda. If it be so, all Andalusia is in movement against you, and I would advise you to retire."
Hillyard followed him. The lights of the Rambla were left behind, the houses became more slatternly and disreputable, the smells of the quarter were of rancid food and bad drains. Before a great door Baeza stopped and clapped his hands. A jingle of keys answered him, and rising from the step of another house the watchman of the street crossed the road.
A short, small man stepped out from the shadow of a great tree and swiftly stepped in. "Drive towards Tibidabo," Baeza directed the driver, and inside the dark, closed car Baeza and Juan de Maestre debated, the one persuading, the other refusing.
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