The Road to Santiago: Pilgrims of St. James

discomfiture the latter pierced with his double lance the helmet of his rival who fell to the ground. There was a gasp of horror from the crowd, who believed their doughty Captain of the Lists was slain, but Suero rising from the ground cried out: “It is nothing, it is nothing. Quiñones! Quiñones!”
    Eusebio Luengo, whose excellent biography of Suero de Quiñones is the best modern study of the Paso Honroso, suggests that the chemise worn over his armour by Suero de Quiñones in his tilt with Per Davio was one sent to him by his love, the mysterious lady for whom he wore the fetter round his neck and the device on his right arm worked in gold:

    Si a vous ne plait de ouir mesure,
    Certes je dy,
    Queje suis
    Sans venture.

    In mediaeval chivalry it was customary after the contest for the knight to return the garment to his lady, and she would henceforth wear it, even though it was torn and stained with her champion’s blood. *
    More serious were the incidents which took place after July 20, when the Knight Gutierre de Quijada arrived with nine companions, who were travelling as pilgrims to St. James of Compostella. They were all of them famed for their skill in tilting and were equal in numbers to the Knights Defenders of the Paso. Next day Suero defeated one of the Quijada’s companions, Gonzalo de Castañeda, who loudly proclaimed that in all the dangerous breaking of lances in which he had taken part hitherto none had ever beaten him save Suero de Quiñones, and he rejoiced to have been defeated by so valiant a knight. Gutierre de Quijada, however, resented that one of his nine champions should have been defeated, and felt a growing rancour and desire for revenge. Twenty-four years later he was to find his opportunity. A final procession was held in the lists on August 9, 1434, and Suero de Quiñones appeared, still wearing his iron fetter, and addressed the concourse, saying: “Most Honourable Lords: Know ye that heretofore I was a prisoner of a most virtuous lady, and in sign of my captivity I wore tins iron fetter around my neck every Thursday, and I won my ransom by three hundred lances broken off at the haft, and by remaining on guard in this Passage for the space of thirty days, awaiting the arrival of knights who would deliver me from such ransom.” Amid the applause of the multitude the Knight-at-Arms and his assistant went down into the lists. Suero dismounted from his palfrey and bowed before the Judges, whereupon they took the iron fetter from his neck and placed it on a tray, which they carried up to the judges, amidst fanfares of trumpets and flaming torches.
    From Puente de Órbigo Suero de Quiñones rode in a cavalcade of knights to León, and, amidst the plaudits of the people thronging the streets and balconies, he rode slowly up the Rúa Nueva past the church of St. Isidore and on to the square of the cathedral from whence he retired to the palace of his father, Diego Fernández de Quiñones. * Now that he was released from his vow he resolved to journey along the Camino francés as a humble pilgrim to Santiago de Compostela. When he reached the basilica of the Apostle he deposited at the feet of St. James a broad golden bracelet as a reminder of the iron fetter he had worn in his slavery. *
    In later years we hear of Suero de Quiñones plotting with his elder brother, Don Pedro, and other nobles against the tyranny of the Grand Master of Santiago, Don Alvaro de Luna, and at Olmedo in 1445 he fought on the side of the rebellious nobles. Then came years of exile, until one day in 1458, when unexpectedly in the open field between Castroverde and Bardal de la Loma in Navarre, he came face to face with his former challenger of the Paso Honroso at Qrbigo, Don Gutierre de Quijada. Don Gutierre had not forgotten even after twenty-four years his discomfiture that day in the Passage Honourable. Now was the heaven-sent opportunity for his revenge. The two knights armed cap-à-pie charged each other with lances couched. There was a clash of armour, the horses reared up on their hind legs and one of the knights fell from his charger to the ground and lay motionless; blood trickled through his visor. It was Suero de Quiñones. The chronicler adds: As he was always among those in the front line of battle, so he was the first to perish.’
    I am always fascinated by the strange coincidence that Don Gutierre de Quijada was the ancestor of that Alonso Quijada of the early sixteenth century, who was the