It is a point of faith accepted by all devout Portuguese that
thirty-three baths in the sea must be taken on or before the 24th of
August of every year. Although the motive may not seem to be very
reasonable, still the result is of great advantage to those believers
who occupy thirty-three days in taking the thirty-three baths, for
otherwise the majority of them would never undergo any form of ablution.
That the demon is loose on the 24th of August is an established fact
among the credulous; and were it not for the compact entered into
between St. Bartholomew and the said demon, that all who have taken
thirty-three baths during the year should be free from his talons, the
list of the condemned would be much increased.
Now, there was a very powerful baron, whose castle was erected on the
eastern slope of the Gaviarra, overlooking the neighbouring provinces of
Spain, and he had always refused to take these thirty-three baths, for
he maintained that it was cowardly on the part of a man to show any fear
of the demon. His castle was fully manned; the drawbridge was never left
lowered; the turrets were never left unguarded; and a wide and deep
ditch surrounded the whole of his estates, which had been given him by
Affonso Henriques, after the complete overthrow of the Saracens at
Ourique, in which famous and decisive battle the baron had wrought
wondrous deeds of bravery.
All round the castle were planted numerous vines, which had been brought
from Burgundy by order of Count Henry, father of the first Portuguese
king; and in the month of August the grapes are already well formed, but
the hand of Nature has not yet painted them. Among the vines quantities
of yellow melons and green water-melons were strewn over the ground,
while the mottled pumpkins hung gracefully from the branches of the
orange-trees.
In front of the castle was an arbour, formed of box-trees, under which a
lovely fountain had been constructed; and here, in the hot summer
months, would wander the baron’s only daughter, Alina. She was
possessed of all the qualities, mental and physical, which went towards
making the daughter of a feudal lord desired in marriage by all the
gallants of the day; and as she was heiress to large estates, these
would have been considered a sufficient prize without the said
qualities. But Alina, for all this, was not happy, for she was enamoured
of a handsome chief, who, unfortunately, wore the distinctive almexia,
which proved him to be a Moor, and, consequently, not a fit suitor for
the daughter of a Christian baron.
“My father,” she would often soliloquize, “is kind to me, and professes
to be a Christian. My lover, as a follower of the Prophet, hates my
father, but, as a man, he loves me. For me he says he will do anything;
yet, when I ask him to become a Christian, he answers me that he will do
so if I can prevail on my father to so far conform with the Christian
law as to take the thirty-three baths; and this my father will not do.
What am I to do? He would rather fight the demon than obey the saint.”
One day, however, she resolved on telling her father about her courtship
with the young chief, Al-Muli, and of the only condition he made, on
which depended his becoming a convert to Christianity, which so
infuriated the baron that, in his anger, he declared himself willing to
meet the demon in mortal combat, hoping thus to free the world of him
and of the necessity of taking the thirty-three baths.
This so much distressed Alina, that when, during the afternoon of the
same day, Al-Muli met her in the arbour, she disclosed to him her firm
resolution of entering a convent, and spending the rest of her days
there.
“This shall not be!” cried Al-Muli; and, seizing her round the waist, he
lifted her on to his shoulder, sped through the baronial grounds, and,
having waded through the ditch, placed her on the albarda of his horse
and galloped away.
Alina was so frightened that she could not scream, and she silently
resigned herself to her fate, trusting in the honour of her lover.
The alcazar, or palace, of Al-Muli was situated on the Spanish side of
the frontier; and, as they approached the principal gate, the almocadem,
or captain of the guard, hurried to receive his master, who instructed
him to send word to his mother that he desired of her to receive and
look after Alina. This done, he assisted his bride elect to dismount,
and, with a veil hiding her lovely features, she was ushered by
Al-Muli’s mother into a magnificently furnished room, and took a seat on
a richly embroidered cushion, called an almofada.
To her future mother-in-law she related all that referred to her
conversation with her father, and how she had been brought away from his
castle; and she further said that she very much feared the baron would
summon all his numerous followers to rescue her.
Al-Muli’s mother was a descendant of the Moors who first landed at
Algeziras, and from them had descended to her that knowledge of the
black art which has been peculiar to that race. She, therefore, replied
that although she could count on the resistance her almogavares, or
garrison soldiers, would offer to the forces of the baron, still she
would do her utmost to avoid a conflict. She then proceeded to another
room, in which she kept her magic mirror, and having closed the door, we
must leave her consulting the oracle.
The baron was not long in discovering the absence of his daughter, and
he so stormed about the place that his servants were afraid to come near
him.
In a short time, however, his reason seemed to return to him, and he
sat down on his old chair and gave way to grief when he saw that his
Alina’s cushion was vacant.
“My child—my only child and love,” sobbed the old man, “thou hast left
thy father’s castle, and gone with the accursed Moor into the hostile
land of Spain. Oh, that I had been a good Christian, and looked after my
daughter better! I have braved the orders of good St. Bartholomew; I
would not take the thirty-three baths in the sea, and now I am
wretched!”
The baron suddenly became aware of the presence of a distinguished and
patriarchal looking stranger, who addressed him thus—
“You mortals only think of St. Barbara when it thunders. Now that the
storm of sorrow has burst on you, you reproach yourself for not having
thought of me and of my instructions. But I see that you are penitent,
and if you will do as I tell you, you will regain your daughter.”
It was St. Bartholomew himself who was speaking, and the baron, for the
first time in his life, shook in his shoes with fear and shame.
“Reverend saint,” at last ejaculated the baron, “help me in this my
hour of need, and I will promise you anything—and, what is more, I will
keep my promises.”
“And you had better do so,” continued the saint; “for not even Satan has
dared to break his compact with me. You don’t know how terrible I can
be!”—here the saint raised his voice to such a pitch that the castle
shook. “Only let me catch you playing false with me, and I’ll—I’ll—I
don’t know what I’ll do!”
“Most reverend saint and father, you have only to command me and I will
obey,” murmured the affrighted baron—“I will indeed. Good venerable St.
Bartholomew, only give me back my daughter—that is all I ask.”
“Your daughter is now in the hands of Al-Muli, her lover, who dwells in
a stronger castle than yours, and who, moreover, has a mother versed in
the black art. It is no good your trying to regain her by the force at
your disposal; you must rely on me—only on me. Do you understand?”
asked the saint.
“Yes, dear, good, noble, and venerable saint, I do understand you; but
what am I to do?”
“Simply follow me, and say not a word as you go,” commanded the
patriarch.
The baron did as he was told; and out from the castle the two went
unseen by any one. The baron soon perceived that he was hurrying through
the air, and he was so afraid of falling that he closed his eyes. All at
once he felt that his feet were touching the ground; and, looking around
him, what was his delight to find himself close to his dear daughter
Alina.
“Father—dear father!” exclaimed Alina; “how did you come here so
quickly, for I have only just arrived? And how did you pass by the
guards?”
The baron was going to tell her, but the saint, in a whisper, enjoined
silence on this point; and the baron now noticed that the saint was
invisible.
“Never mind, dear child, how I came here; it is enough that I am here,”
replied her father. “And I intend taking you home with me, dear Alina.
The castle is so lonely without you;” and the old man sobbed.
At this moment Al-muli entered the chamber, and, seeing Alina’s father
there, he thought there had been treachery among his guards; so striking
a gong that was near him, a number of armed men rushed in.
“How now, traitors!” said he. “How have you been careful of your duties
when you have allowed this stranger to enter unobserved?”
The soldiers protested their innocence, until at last Al-muli commenced
to think that there must be some secret entrance into his castle.
“Search everywhere!” screamed the infuriated Moor. “Have the guard
doubled at all the entrances, and send me up the captain!”
Al-muli’s instructions were carried out, and the captain reported that
all was safe.
“Old man,” said the Moor, addressing the baron, “I have thee now in my
power. Thou wert the enemy of my noble race. To thy blind rage my
predecessors owed their downfall in Portugal. Thy bitter hatred carried
thee to acts of vengeance. Thou art now in my power, but I will not harm
one of thy grey hairs.”
“Moor,” replied the baron, with a proud look, “can the waters of the
Manzanares and of the Guadalquivir join? No! And so cannot and may not
thy accursed race join with ours! Thy race conquered our people, and in
rising against thine we did but despoil the despoiler.”
“Thy logic is as baseless as thy fury was wont to be,” answered the
Moor. “Though hundreds of miles separate the Manzanares from the
Guadalquivir, yet do they meet in the mightier waters of the ocean.
Hadst thou said that ignorance cannot join hands with learning, thou
wouldst have been nearer the mark, or that the Cross can never dim the
light of the Crescent.”
These words were spoken in a haughty manner; and as Al-muli turned round
and looked upon his splendidly arrayed soldiers, who surrounded the
chamber, his pride seemed justified.
“Thou canst not crush me more than thou hast done, vile Moor,” said the
baron. “Thou hast robbed me of my daughter, not by force of arms, but
stealthily, as a thief at midnight. If any spark of chivalry warmed thy
infidel blood thou wouldst blush for the act thou hast wrought. But I
fear thee not, proud Moor; thy warriors are no braver than thy women.
Dare them to move, and I will lay thee at my feet.”
“Oh, my father, and thou, dear Al-Muli, abandon these threats, even if
you cannot be friends.”
“No, maiden,” exclaimed Al-Muli; “I will not be bearded in my own den.
Advance, guards, and take this old man to a place of safety below!”
But not a soldier moved; and when Al-Muli was about to approach them to
see what was the matter with them, his scimitar dropped from his hand,
and he fell on the ground.
“What charm hast thou brought to bear on me, bold baron,” screamed the
Moor, “that I am thus rendered powerless? Alina, if thou lovest me, give
me but that goblet full of water, for I am faint.”
Alina would have done as her lover bade her, but just then the figure of
the venerable St. Bartholomew was seen with the cross in his right hand.
“Moor and infidel,” said the saint, “thou hast mocked at this symbol of
Christianity, and thou hast done grievous injury to this Christian
baron; but thou hast been conscientious in thy infidelity. Nor am I slow
to recognize in thy race a knowledge of the arts and sciences not yet
extended to the Christian. Yet, for all this, thou art but an infidel.
Let me but baptize thee with the water thou wouldst have drunk, and all
will yet be well.”
“No, sir saint,” answered the Moor. “When in my castle strangers thus
treat me rudely, I can die, but not bend to their orders. If yonder
baron is a true Christian, why has he not taken the thirty-three baths
enjoined by thee?”
“And if my father do take them, wilt thou, as thou didst promise me,”
said Alina, “be converted to the true faith?”
“The Moor breaks not his promise. As the golondrina returns to its nest
in due season, so the man of honour returns to his promise.” Then,
turning to the baron, he demanded to know if he would comply with the
saint’s instructions.
“Yes,” answered the baron; “I have promised the good saint everything,
and I will fulfil my promises. Al-Muli, if you love my daughter, love
her faith also, and I will then have regained not only a daughter, but a
son in my old age.”
“The promise of the Moor is sacred,” said Al-Muli. “Baptize me and my
household; and do thou, good baron, intercede for me with the venerable
saint, for I like not this lowly posture.”
“My dear Al-Muli,” sobbed Alina for joy, “the Cross and the Crescent are
thus united in the mightier ocean of love and goodwill. May the two
races whom one God has made be reconciled! And to-morrow’s sun must not
set before we all comply with the condition imposed by St.
Bartholomew.”
The saint was rejoiced with the work he had that day done, and declared
that the churches he liked men to construct are those built within them,
where the incense offered is prayer, and the work done, love. “As for
the baths, they are but desirable auxiliaries,” said he.