"The king has given an order! Summon the Castilian noble, Don Christopher Columbus!..."
"Columbus! The honored King John II summons you. In the king's presence, behave yourself!..."
The jailer opened the dim stone cell and led the important "noble prisoner" out of the gloomy Lisbon prison. Dazzling sunlight met them head-on, stabbing so hard he could not open his eyes. Then, when the spear-carrying guards, under the shouted orders of the officer Ruben, shoved the "prisoner" into the carriage, the light dimmed once more.
"Clatter, clatter!"
The light tapping of hooves trotted along the flagstone streets. The unblocked route, the faint smell of urine that was not too offensive, and the road with only a little jolting all proved that Lisbon's municipal affairs were running well, far surpassing Paris, where filth ran rampant at this time. And when bright sunlight appeared again, the Portuguese Pena Palace had already loomed into view.
"This is the prisoner summoned by the king, the Castilian noble, Columbus."
"Routine search."
"Please!"
"Damn it... I am a noble of Castile! I demand treatment befitting a noble of my station!..."
Before Columbus could react, two strong Portuguese guards had pinned his arms behind him and pressed him to the ground, then searched him carefully all over. A moment later, he climbed up with a dark expression and looked toward the guards protecting the court, wanting to let loose some harsh words. But when he saw their silent, ferocious expressions, he shut his mouth in fear.
"This is... the Portuguese king's guard, that elite corps made up of mountain folk?"
Columbus pressed his lips together and examined them closely for a while. The guard force protecting Pena Palace numbered several hundred and was clearly divided into two kinds of attire: one was Medium Armor infantry wearing breastplates, holding