fellow's Moorish origin.

Affonso Henriques laughed. It would be an excellent jest to
thrust upon these arrogant priests, who refused to appoint a
bishop of their choice, a bishop who was little better than a
blackamoor.

"Don Zuleyman," said the prince, "I name you Bishop of Coimbra in
the room of the rebel who has fled. You will prepare to celebrate
High Mass this morning, and to pronounce my absolution."

The Christianized Moor fell back a step, his face paling under
its copper skin to a sickly grey. In the background, the hindmost
members of the retreating clerical procession turned and stood at
gaze, angered and scandalized by what they heard, which was
indeed a thing beyond belief.

"Ah no, my lord! Ah no!" Don Zuleyman was faltering. "Not that!"

The prospect terrified him, and in his agitation he had recourse
to Latin. "Domine, non sum dignus," he cried, and beat his
breast.

But the uncompromising Affonso Henriques gave him back Latin for
Latin.

"Dixi--I have spoken!" he answered sternly. "Do not fail me in
obedience, on your life." And on that he clanked out again with
his attendants, well-pleased with his morning's work.