"Neigh, neigh, neigh!..."
"Hiss! Hisss!"
The whinnying of warhorses rang out from time to time in the expeditionary camp near the docks, answering one after another the horses of the Church's knightly order aboard the ships. The Royal Knights removed their ornate armor, which leaned more toward ceremonial display, the emblem of the Castilian lion gleaming on their pauldrons. After taking off their armor, they were in no hurry to eat themselves, but first tended to their most important partners—their warhorses.
"Lord above! This port of Seville really is filthy beyond belief! This stinking mud... doesn't the municipal council send anyone to deal with it?..."
"Haha! The municipal council has always only cared about collecting taxes at the docks. As for spending money to clear away dung and muck, no one is willing to do that... Este, why don't you go mention it to the queen's newly sent Royal Representative to Seville, Sir Corregidor? Ask him to arrange for people to sweep the streets and alleys?..."
"This... forget it! The Queen sent Sir Corregidor here to gather supplies for the Italian Wars... petty matters of sanitation like this definitely won't be on the knight's mind. Once the fleet puts to sea tomorrow, we probably won't come back again. Endure it a little, and it'll be over..."
As the young knight Este complained, he took out a horsehair brush and carefully brushed away the caked mud and dung on the horse's body. Right now the warhorse's hot sweat had not yet dried, so it could not be washed with water; that would easily make the horse fall ill, and thus he could only dry-brush it. Only after he had carefully brushed the horse down did he scatter dry pea pods and oat fodder, add fresh water with a little salt, and