HOW THE DE VIVAR FAMILY RECEIVED LETTERS FROM THE KING, DON FERNANDO
A few days after the events which we have related in preceding chapters,
Diego Lainez and his family, including Rodrigo, were seated at table in
the castle of Vivar. All were in good spirits, all were eating with
excellent appetites, except the last-mentioned, who in vain endeavoured
to take part in the general joyousness; but the smile departed suddenly
from his lips, as if there came to drive it away some sad memories,
which the most trivial phrases of those present seemed to awake in his
soul.
Teresa, who was observing her son, saw his inquietude and sadness, and
from that moment she shared them with him; for the feelings of a son
reflect themselves in a mother, especially when she is as good as the
mother of Rodrigo was.
"My son," she said to the youth, who was then buried in thought, "why
are you so sad when we all have such reason to be joyous, especially
you, who have washed off the blot that stained our honour? What is the
cause of your sadness?"
"Mother," replied Rodrigo, "have you not heard that Casilda, the
solitary of the lake of San Vicente, shares her home with a noble maiden
who also has gone to bury herself in that solitary place?"
"Yes."
"That maiden is Ximena Gome."
"Let her then, my son, weep in solitude over the perfidy of her father,
let her consecrate some of her days to God, and to the care of the poor
invalids who resort to the lake to seek their health, for grief finds
its first consolations in God and in those who suffer. If she loves you
still, of which I have no doubt, her grief will pass away, and her love
will remain; for true love is eternal, and grief, no matter how deep, is
transitory."
"Do you believe, my mother, that Ximena can love the slayer of her
father?"
"Yes, my son, for in killing her father you gave another proof of your
noble character, and Ximena herself would have abhorred you if she saw
you regard with indifference the stain which her father had cast on the
honour of yours."
"Do you not know that, before she quitted the court, she demanded
vengeance against me from the king, supposing that I had wrongfully
killed her father?"
"Yes," interposed Diego Lainez, who until then did not wish to interrupt
the conversation between his wife and son; "and such is the duty of
every daughter. The king, however, is too wise and just to believe such
a thing, and to punish one who not only committed no offence, but rather
added fresh lustre to his honour."
"Notwithstanding, my father, I fear that the king is much displeased
with us, for the question regarding Calahorra is now the foremost one,
and he has not asked your advice, as he always was in the habit of doing
in similar cases."
Just as Rodrigo said this, a servant entered, announcing the arrival of
a messenger from the king, from whom he brought letters for Diego Lainez
and Rodrigo.
A perceptible uneasiness came upon the countenance of Diego, as well as
on those of his wife and son. A moment afterwards the old man was
reading a sheet of parchment, upon which was the royal seal, and the
young man was reading a similar one. This is what the first contained:--
"Much honoured Diego Lainez, the King of Leon and Castile salutes
you, whom he loves the most of all his subjects. Know that we await
you impatiently in our Alcazar, for it is our wish that you should
devote your wisdom and prudence to the education of the princes,
our sons, as we informed you but a short time ago, in the presence
of the cavaliers of our court. Pay attention to your health till it
is quite restored from the injury which the wounds made on your
honour must have caused it, and as those have been healed, receive
the congratulations which, on that account, we offer you.--THE
KING."
The second letter, directed to Rodrigo, was conceived in the following
terms:--
"To you, Rodrigo Diaz, a good son as well as a good knight, the
king sends his greetings; be it known to you that the King of
Aragon disputes with us the possession of Calahorra, alleging
injustice on the part of the king our father, who made it over to
us of his own good will, when God was pleased to call him to
Himself. And as we have agreed to confide the decision of the
dispute to the valour of two cavaliers, one to be named by us, and
the other by the King of Aragon, it is our will that you shall be
he who is to defend our rights, combating with Martin Gonzalez, who
has been appointed to defend those which Don Ramiro claims to
possess. You have given proof of being an honourable and valiant
knight, by slaying De Gormaz to avenge the insult offered to your
father's and to your honour, and we doubt not but that the
enterprise, which we confide to you, shall come to a successful
issue.--THE KING."
"Martin Gonzalez," exclaimed Rodrigo, trembling with joy, "is then the
champion of Aragon! Father, Calahorra shall remain to Don Fernando, and
I shall have another claim on Ximena for her love. Let God put me front
to front with Martin Gonzalez, in order that my sword may cause to bite
the dust the only man I hate in this world, now that De Gormaz is
dead--a man whom Ximena also abhors."
"Yes, my son," replied Diego, participating in the delight of his son,
both on account of the honours which both of them had received from the
king, and the enterprise which had been entrusted to Rodrigo, in which
he was likely to gain still further glory. "Yes, you shall fight for
your king and for your love, and you shall conquer; do not doubt of it,
Rodrigo. To-morrow we shall return to the court, where happier days
await us than those which we recently experienced in it."
Thus speaking, both parents embraced their son, for Teresa also shared
in the satisfaction of her husband and Rodrigo. The latter, indeed, was
about to engage in a fight in which one of the combatants was almost
certain to lose his life, but Teresa trusted in the valour of her son,
and at that period the sentiment of honour was superior to all
affections, to all fears, to all interests. Then the mother who most
loved her son was the very one who most ardently desired to see him
engaged in some honourable and hazardous enterprise, even though the
chances of gaining honour were less than those of losing life.
The reader, who doubtless remembers the interview between Ximena and
Rodrigo in the halls of the Alcazar, will also remember the fears which
both of them entertained, that Don Gome might bestow the hand of his
daughter on another man. Let us see if such fears were well founded.
Before the battle of Atapuerca, and when enmity was commencing between
Diego Lainez and Don Gome, the latter was sent to the court of Aragon,
in reality as the ambassador of Don Fernando, but he imagined that it
was a kind of exile, brought about by the artifices of De Vivar. Martin
Gonzalez, who was one of the most powerful grandees of Aragon, gave him
hospitality in his mansion, and entertained him magnificently,
apparently for no reason but to return the marks of friendship which he
had received from the count, some time before, at Gormaz, where he had
been at the celebration of a tournament, in which were engaged both
Castilian and Aragonian knights. Martin then saw Ximena, and was charmed
with her beauty and prudence; but he did not demand her hand, believing
that it would not be accorded to him, as he was aware that it had been
promised to Rodrigo. However, whilst Don Gome was enjoying his
hospitality, Martin Gonzalez discovered the recent bitter feelings which
he entertained towards De Vivar, and he believed that the time had
arrived for winning what he so ardently desired. He fanned the flames of
discord between Diego Lainez and Don Gome, strengthening by means of
calumny the belief which the latter entertained, that he owed his
disfavour at the court to the artifices of De Vivar. Then, when he had
sufficiently worked on the mind of Don Gome, he asked him for the hand
of Ximena, which was granted, on condition, however, that she should be
in no way forced to grant it against her will, for, with all his faults,
De Gormaz, as we have said before, loved his daughter, and, although he
had then resolved that she should not marry Rodrigo, he did not intend
that she should become the wife of another, except with her own free
consent. These infamous schemes, which were the principal causes of the
division between the two families, were known to Ximena and to Rodrigo,
and that is why they both entertained a deep hatred towards Martin
Gonzalez, and certainly that hatred was legitimate and just.
We do not wish to leave the castle of Vivar without knowing the
condition of affairs between the squire and his two sweethearts, for
which reason we shall enter a chamber, which must be that of Fernan, for
he is in it, and a lance and other instruments belonging to his
profession are suspended on its walls.
The valiant squire must be in very low spirits, for when he is not so he
talks, when in company, as much as four, or if alone, sings ballads of
love or chivalry; but now he is silent, with his head bent down, as if
buried in deep and disagreeable thought. Another servitor, however,
enters the apartment, and from his words we shall perchance learn
something of that which we desire to know.
"On my soul," said the page, for such he was, "you are now just as much
what you used to be as I am a bishop. What are you doing with your head
sunk on your breast, and so miserable, when such glad news has come to
our lords and masters?"
"Tell me, then, Alvar, what news have come?"
"I will tell you willingly as much as I know. I swear that the tidings
must be good--and so good that my masters gave the messengers who
brought them presents so valuable, that if they are not worth at least
more than a hundred ounces of good silver, may the saints forsake me at
the hour of my death!"
"But will you not tell me, accursed chatterer that you are, what the
news is which the messenger has brought?"
"Yes, Fernan, I will, and I am just coming to it. But what good has it
done you to visit so often the witch of the torrent, if you have not yet
learned to know things beforehand, an art in which people say she
excels?"
"I vow by Judas Iscariot that I'll throw you out of the window if you
don't cease talking such nonsense, and get out of this at once."
Alvar stepped backwards on seeing the threatening gesture of the
impatient squire, for he knew that it was the habit of Fernan to
accompany his words with acts, to which his ribs, almost broken more
than once by the squire, could testify. As the reader has already
perceived, the page was one of those young men who are so fond of
circumlocutions that they go to the grain, as sparrows, through the
straw. We have corresponding types in our own times, as may be often
seen in meetings of Parliament, in which is often heard the cry, "To the
grain, to the grain!" or "Question, question," which is the same thing.
Thanks, then, to the threats of Fernan, the page related, without any
more roundabout expressions, what had brought the messenger of Don
Fernando; adding, as we already know, that both Diego and Rodrigo had
decided to set out for the court on the following day.
"I am much pleased to hear that," said Fernan, "for my life at Vivar is
but a lingering death, since that ungrateful Mayorica repays my love
with scratches and insults, and that vixen of an Aldonza shuts the door
in my face."
"Then you love them, Fernan?" said the page, much surprised.
"And I must love them, I fear, in spite of the fact that they treat me
worse than a captive Moor."
"By the soul of my grandfather, he who goes on in that way deserves a
hundred lashes. Oh, how vain are the intentions of lovers! Why don't you
swear, you unfortunate man, that as long as you live you'll have nothing
more to do with women?"
"What do you desire, Alvar? Man proposes and woman disposes. I was born
with such weaknesses, and I fear that I shall die with them."
"Conquer these inclinations of yours, Fernan."
"It's not easy to do that. However, I swear to you, friend Alvar, that
my eyes are opened with regard to the fair sex, and I'll do my best to
be done with them from this time forward."
"If you don't do so soon, I tell you again, as I have already said, that
you will deserve a hundred good lashes."
"It is easily seen, Alvar, that you have no heart. You never knew, and
don't know now, what love is."
"Alas!" said the page, heaving a deep sigh; "I know it but too well,
friend Fernan. If we carried our hearts on our foreheads, you would see
mine, and it would move you to compassion."
"By Judas Iscariot! what do you tell me, friend Alvar? You in love?"
"Don't be surprised, Fernan, for one should be made of stone not to
fall in love with the tyrannical and gentle maiden for whom I sigh."
"Tell me, who is this sovereign beauty?"
"Yes, I will tell you, Fernan. You and your master brought her to
Vivar"--
"Explain quickly what you mean!" exclaimed the squire, becoming suddenly
very angry again.
"I tell you," hastened to answer Alvar, fearing the look of Fernan,
"that Beatrice, the maiden whom you and Don Rodrigo rescued at the inn,
has me almost dead with love."
"You will soon be dead by my hands!" cried the squire, rushing at the
page and furiously seizing him by the throat. "What is that you dare to
say, ill-born lout? You in love with Beatrice! you dare to place your
eyes where I have fixed mine!"
"Fernan, Fernan, let me loose! you are choking me with your hands of
iron! If I had known that you were in love with her, I should have had
no more thought of loving her than of turning Moor."
Fernan let go the page, feeling convinced that he had set his eyes on
Beatrice, not knowing that doing so would offend him.
"Yes, I love her," said the squire; "and, except my master, no one has
any right to interfere with me, for my lance made the fellows that were
carrying her off bite the dust. Although up to the present she has
showed herself insensible to my prayers, she shall learn how worthy I am
of serving her, and will yield to me, so that I may requite myself for
the cruelty of Mayorica."
The page found it hard to give up the conquest of the maiden who had
been rescued from Don Suero, but he found the hands of Fernan harder;
for that reason he promised him solemnly that he would not expose
himself again to his anger by paying attentions to Beatrice. The thrice
enamoured squire was satisfied with this, and both continued to converse
amiably, when they heard some persons exclaim in an adjacent room--
"Father!"
"Daughter of my soul!"
To these exclamations followed sobs and repeated kisses.
The page and the squire proceeded thither, and found Beatrice in the
arms of a peasant, advanced in years.
It was the father of the maiden, who had been informed that she was in
the castle of Vivar, and who had not come sooner to clasp her in his
arms for the reason which his own words will explain.
"My daughter, how were you rescued from that accursed Don Suero? How is
it that I find you here?" asked the elderly man; and she began
immediately to inform him of what had happened since she had been torn
from his side.
The poor farmer shed tears of gratitude on learning the protection that
had been given to his child by Rodrigo and the other inmates of the
castle.
"Ah," he exclaimed, "God will bless those who have restored a daughter
to her father; God will protect the good cavalier who drew his sword in
defence of the oppressed, and for the punishment of a wicked tyrant."
But as Beatrice was impatient to learn what had happened to those who
were her companions when returning from the pilgrimage, and what had
taken place afterwards at Carrion, her father hastened to relieve her
uneasiness and anxiety.
"The father of Martin," he said, "was killed by a stab which he received
in the horrible fight from one of the retainers of Don Suero. Martin
embraced his dead body and cried out, weeping--
"'Father, father! your son will avenge you!'
"He then turned to your mother and to me, and added, 'Your daughter
shall also be avenged; I swear it by the love I always had for her, and
by the salvation of my father's soul.' He then disappeared, and no one
since then has learned where he is."
"But was he wounded?" asked Beatrice anxiously.
"No, my daughter," replied her father.
And the girl murmured in a low tone--
"I thank thee, O my God! I am still worthy of him--I trust in his love."
These words were a dagger-blow to Fernan, who doubtless believed that
the lover of Beatrice had fallen in the combat, and that the maiden had
already forgotten him. It was little less for Alvar, who, although he
had promised the squire to renounce his pretensions to the love of
Beatrice, still nursed the idea of following them on, acting prudently
behind the back of the squire. Thus it was that they looked at each
other gloomily, and, with a certain kind of despair, Fernan said to the
page--
"It appears to me, friend Alvar, that we fail in courtesy and good
manners, listening to conversations which do not concern us."
"Certainly," replied Alvar.
And although Beatrice and her father told them that they did not
inconvenience them in the slightest, each one retired in a different
direction, Fernan muttering--
"Ungrateful, ungrateful women! The more one loves them the worse is he
treated. But I, curse me! am myself the cause of the misfortunes which
have come upon me, for I have enraged Mayorica, looking out for too much
love. There are certainly more than two women in Spain for each man, and
I swear by the soul of Beelzebub that I am right in my calculation; but
as women are so stupid that they won't listen to reason, why should I
not resign myself to their foolishness, and enjoy the love of one of
them. Well, then, from this day forward I shall devote myself heart and
soul to Mayorica, and let the others see what a treasure of love they
have lost in me. Mayorica is fierce when I annoy her, but kind and
affectionate when I please her. Oh, Mayorica of my eyes! you shall not
have to complain again of your lover, for if you guard your honour for
him, he will do the same for you."
And Alvar--
"What a fool I was to fall in love, when I saw how things were going
with Fernan. It is a sad thing to find the position occupied, when for
the first time a man bestows his affections on a woman. They seem to be
born provided with lovers, just as they are with arms and legs. O Lord,
what a blessing it would be to men if you had created them without
hearts!"
The old man continued--
"We arrived at Carrion, and on the following day your mother was
stricken down with an illness which nearly cost her her life. She called
out for you in her delirium, and she could not be consoled. Then the
news of your safety arrived, and her health improved so much that I was
able to leave her to come to you."
"Let us set out at once, father, for I must return to my mother. No
danger threatens me at Carrion, for the sword of my deliverer deprived
the count of life."
"It deprived him of his prey, my daughter, but not of his life, for Don
Suero returned to his castle the next day, and has recovered from his
wounds, which he says he received fighting with a band of robbers."
"Then what shall we do, father?" exclaimed Beatrice; "what shall we do
to protect you and my mother from his anger, for having thwarted his
criminal intentions, and to protect me from a fresh attempt on his part?
But, ah! do not be uneasy, father, go and bring hither my mother; let us
fly from the estates of the count. I am certain that the generous and
noble family, to whom we owe our safety, will give us a small piece of
ground to farm, a humble refuge, in which we shall be able to enjoy a
tranquil life, and show our gratitude to, and bless our benefactors
every day."
Beatrice was not wrong in trusting to the generosity of the lord and
lady of Vivar. A few days after, she and her parents were installed,
content and happy, in a small farmhouse, situated at a short distance
from the castle, surrounded by fields which Pero Lopez, for such was the
name of the girl's father, was ploughing with a pair of mules which, a
short time before, had been feeding in the stables of Diego Lainez.