"That castle," he said, "was inhabited by a Moorish
king at the time of the wars of Granada. Queen Isabella invaded it
with a great army; but the king looked down from his castle among
the clouds, and laughed her to scorn! Upon this the Virgin appeared to
the queen, and guided her and her army up a mysterious path in the
mountains, which had never before been known. When the Moor saw her
coming, he was astonished, and springing with his horse from a
precipice, was dashed to pieces! The marks of his horse's hoofs," said
the old man, "are to be seen in the margin of the rock to this day.
And see, senores, yonder is the road by which the queen and her army
mounted: you see it like a ribbon up the mountain's side; but the
miracle is, that, though it can be seen at a distance, when you come
near it disappears!"
The ideal road to which he pointed was undoubtedly a sandy ravine of
the mountain, which looked narrow and defined at a distance, but
became broad and indistinct on an approach.
As the old man's heart warmed with wine and wassail, he went on to
tell us a story of the buried treasure left under the castle by the
Moorish king. His own house was next to the foundations of the castle.
The curate and notary dreamed three times of the treasure, and went to
work at the place pointed out in their dreams. His own son-in-law
heard the sound of their pickaxes and spades at night.
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