So listen now, my noble, honoured sirs, and you'll hear the true story of how Bertrand flourished and won such great renown, and went with a might army to destroy the wicked, deviant infidels.

He vowed he'd be king of the great and populous land of Granada before his time was done; but he was diverted from his goal by grave mischance, for at the time of which my song tells there was a king in the rich land of Spain who never did good as long as he lived. His name was Pedro, and a more evil creature was never born; in the end he had his just reward – bad work should be badly paid.

This King Pedro of Spain, who lived such a shocking life, had a wife who was a finer soul than ever set foot in the kingdom; she was the sister of the duke of Bourbon and the queen of France. The union of one so good and one so wicked was hardly God's finest work: King Pedro led a dreadful life while the good queen never had a sinful thought.

Now, from what I've heard, there was a lady who was much loved by King Pedro, and she ensnared his heart. The queen of Spain, who worshipped true fidelity, thought their affair of little account; but this wicked woman who'd captivated the king had him so intoxicated with herbs and potions that he couldn't cope for a moment without the mad seductress in his sight. Nor could he bear to look at the one he'd married: he didn't eat with her, drink with her or lie with her. So matters stayed for a long while, and it ended in disaster.

Moreover, it was Pedro's constant way to trust the Jews of his land – indeed he loved them a good deal more than he did the Christians; the latter he oppressed, seeking their counsel in no matters and keeping them in the dark, while he informed the Jews of everything and assigned all responsibility to them. There has long been a saying that trusting ill counsel will end in tears; God has the power to pay as and when He pleases – it may not be at once, but sooner or later the day will come.