HOW THE ARMY OF RODRIGO MARCHED BACK TO BURGOS WITHOUT BEING WEARIED, AS
THE READER MAY BE
The conversation of the squires and pages was resumed when Fernan
overtook them.
"We were talking of the girls you were in love with," said Alvar, "but
did you ever seek out Beatrice, to pay your attentions to her again?"
"I have sought to soften her, but in vain," replied Fernan. "Every time
I go to the castle of Vivar, I have to pass near the farmhouse of Pero,
and the devil sometimes tempts me to go in; and I cannot look on
Beatrice without burning myself with her eyes. But she, the ungrateful
hussy, always puts on a most scornful look. But I am certainly
astonished at such constancy in a woman, who has not seen her betrothed
since she was near being carried off to Carrion, and which same
gentleman seems to have forgotten her, as he takes no trouble to see her
again."
"But he has seen her, my friend," replied Alvar, who, as the reader
will remember, had been also in love with Beatrice, and therefore had
managed to keep an eye on her, and had endeavoured to gain her
affections with greater zeal even than Fernan; taking good care,
however, that the latter should know nothing about it.
"What do you say, friend Alvar?" exclaimed Fernan, full of curiosity,
and also somewhat angrily.
"I tell you, brother, that Martin has been at Vivar, and in the house of
Pero. Mine own eyes have seen him, and mine own ears have heard Beatrice
speaking to him. Know, however, comrade, that the young man is not a
rustic, as people think, but a cavalier armed at all points."
"Alvar, you were always a simpleton, and imagined you saw visions. When
did you see and hear that? I suppose it was after drinking too much wine
in some inn."
"The night I saw and heard it there was not a drop of wine in my body."
"What night was it?"
"I will tell you how it was. I am very fond of walking at night through
the fields; for when it is fine weather, and the moon shines bright, and
the day has been hot"--
"I swear by Judas Iscariot! Have done with your roundabouts!" exclaimed
Fernan, beginning to get impatient with the circumlocutions of which
Alvar was so fond.
"I wish to say," he repeated, "that when the weather is fine, and the
moon shines, and the day has been hot"--
"I swear," cried Fernan, again interrupting him, "that if you don't get
quickly from the straw to the grain, you shall feel the flat of my
sword. Was there ever such a stupid bore as this fellow is?"
"Pardon, friend Fernan, I shall not again abuse your patience. Well,
then, you must know that, wandering one night over the fields which Pero
cultivates, I heard the steps of a horse on the road that leads from
Carrion. I approached it, and concealed myself behind a fence. Then I
saw a horseman, well armed, approaching, and, by my faith, his steed was
fit for a king--what fire, what a step! I'd swear he was of the breed of
Don Suero's celebrated mare. One must be blind and stupid not to know
the horses of the Grandee of Carrion."
"'Fore God! I'll break your bones if you don't get on quickly to the
main point."
"Then I shall, Fernan. The cavalier dismounted at the door of Pero's
house and entered--"
"And then?" asked Fernan, with impatient curiosity.
"Nothing more. How could I hear what they were saying inside?"
"I swear that the story of this fool is rather interesting," remarked
Fernan.
"I could not hear what they were saying in the house, but I remained
concealed behind the fence fully an hour, to see if the cavalier would
come out, and if I could discover who he was by what he might say before
his departure. At last I heard the door opening. Beatrice was holding a
candle in the porch, and, thanks to its light, I was enabled to see what
took place there. Pero and his wife embraced the cavalier, Beatrice was
weeping, and I distinctly heard the name of Martin pronounced. The
stranger crossed the threshold at last and mounted his horse. The young
girl gave the candle to her mother, followed him a short distance from
the house, and said to him, 'Martin, since you are resolved not to
abandon this vengeance, do not forget that if you die in carrying it
out, I also shall die of grief.' 'Trust to my love, Beatrice, and it
will bring you happiness,' replied the cavalier, and he disappeared like
a flash of lightning."
"And how long is it since that happened?" asked Fernan.
"I remember it as if it only happened yesterday, for I have a good
memory. Memory is a valuable"--
"Alvar! make use of your memory to remember how I punish stupidities. Is
it long since that happened?"
"I don't remember the exact time; but I know it was at the period when
the band of the Vengador was proceeding to Burgos."
"And now that you mention the band of the Vengador," said one of the
squires, "do you know the news that is going about concerning it?"
On hearing these words, all tried to get their horses as near as
possible to him who pronounced them. This general anxiety to learn
something of the band of the Vengador, showed that it had acquired such
importance that public attention in Castile was fixed on it.
"What news of it have you?" was asked with lively curiosity.
"You must know, as has been related to me by men-at-arms coming from the
neighbourhood of Carrion, that the Vengador has now got together more
than three hundred bandits, and with them he not only laughs at the
Salvadores, but faces them, and has even defeated them in two
skirmishes, so that the Count of Carrion, seeing his district and even
his castle threatened, proceeded to it with the greatest speed, having
left Burgos, where he had recently fixed his residence."
"Perhaps," observed Fernan, "the bandits caused the count to leave
Burgos; but the reason he went off with such rapidity was because he was
afraid that the lance of my master might reach him. However, leaving
that aside, for it does not much matter, can't you tell me who this
Vengador is, who has gained so much fame in so short a time, and who has
got together so numerous a following?"
"As to the Vengador, nobody knows who he is, as he always conceals his
face when he is in the presence of persons who are not members of his
band."
"I am of opinion," said Alvar, "that, as he conceals himself in that
way, he must be a grandee of Leon or Castile, who has become a brigand
in order to revenge himself on his enemies."
"It is more probable that he is a civilian, for it is said that he has a
mortal hatred for all who call themselves noble, and that he protects
the peasantry, and even shares with them what he takes from the
grandees."
"But how did he manage to get together such a numerous band, when the
Raposo, who is now in hell as he deserves, was never able to get more
than twenty to join him."
"Well, then, the reason is--the Raposo was hated by the country people,
whilst the Vengador is loved by them."
"May the devil take me if I understand you, comrade. How is it possible
that a captain of bandits can be loved by either peasants or nobles?"
"It is possible, and that is proved by the fact that the Vengador has
succeeded in it. The Raposo carried off women; murdered children and old
people, from the peasant to the count, from the curate to the bishop; he
pillaged the cabin of the labourer and the hut of the shepherd, as well
as churches and palaces. Therefore all hated him, and did their utmost
to deliver him up to the Salvadores, and plotted his destruction in
every way they could. Who, that had any respect for his skin, would
enlist under such a chief, for he who did so was also abhorred and
cursed by all, and ran continual risk of his life? The Vengador acts in
quite a different way; his dagger is never stained by human blood,
except in self-defence, or fighting in the cause of the helpless,
unjustly oppressed by the strong; the poor man can leave the door of his
cottage open; the muleteer can travel safely along the loneliest roads,
as there is no danger of the band of the Vengador depriving him of his
humble possessions. Inquire how many women the band of the Vengador has
carried off, how many churches he has pillaged, and you will be told
that such outrages are unknown in the districts which it frequents,
since the time that the Salvadores destroyed the band of the Raposo."
"Then if the band of the Vengador does not commit robberies," observed
Alvar, "I hold to my opinion, that its captain is some rich grandee; how
else could he have money to support it?"
"He does commit robberies, brother; but he does not rob poor people. The
Vengador attacks the mansions of the rich and takes from them all that
he can. With that he maintains his band, and when he has more than he
wants for that purpose, he relieves the necessities of the poor people
in his vicinity. That is why the peasants love and respect him; and his
band can encamp wherever he likes, without any risk of falling into the
hands of the Salvadores. And for the same reasons the number of his
followers increases from day to day."
They were still speaking of the band of the Vengador when Alvar, who was
fond of saying what he considered witty things, but which were generally
very foolish, took it into his head to say something which he believed
would create a sensation amongst his companions.
"My friends," he remarked to them, with much mystery, "I desire to
impart a piece of news which I believe won't be such for some of you."
All the squires and pages stopped at once their sprightly conversations,
in order to listen to what Alvar had to reveal to them.
"My mistress, the Senora Ximena, bears the reputation of being an
irreproachable lady throughout all Castile; is not that so?"
"Certainly, and with good reason," was the universal answer; and Fernan
added--
"And if any calumniator were to cast a doubt on the honour of my lady, I
have a lance here to convince him of it."
"It is not me who would calumniate her," continued Alvar in the same
mysterious manner; "but I must tell you that my master, Don Rodrigo,
although he has only just got married, and never had any sweetheart but
Doña Ximena, has a son, a fine little chap."
"I vow by Judas Iscariot!" exclaimed Fernan, seizing his lance, fire
flashing from his eyes. "What is that you dare to say, you villain, you
traitor? Does your scorpion tongue dare to calumniate your mistress, the
most honoured lady, not alone of Spain, but of the entire world? For
this ingratitude to those who supply you with the bread you eat, you
shall die, traitor that you are!"
Saying this, he made a thrust of his lance at Alvar, forcible enough to
pierce a wall; but his anger blinded the squire, and caused him to miss
his aim; to this also contributed a rapid movement of the page, who
threw himself back on his saddle-bow just as Fernan was giving the
thrust.
All those who saw what had occurred hastened to pacify the enraged
squire, some with words and others by seizing his arms from behind.
"Let me go, let me go!" cried Fernan, struggling to get free, so that he
might attack Alvar again, who hardly had breath to excuse himself. At
last they quieted him down a little, and he said in threatening accents
to the page--
"Speak, you rascally traitor, and retract the calumnies that you have
dared to utter against the most honoured of women. If you don't do so at
once, I'll spit you on my lance like a sucking pig."
"Calm your anger, Fernan," murmured the page at last "It was not in my
mind to stain the characters of my lord and lady, but to praise the
compassionate and kind heart of Don Rodrigo."
"Confound you for a stupid chatterer: have I not told you a hundred
times that your roundabout way of stating the most simple facts would
certainly get you into trouble some day or other?" said Fernan,
understanding at last what the page had intended to convey in his
would-be witty style. "Speak out, you fool, and tell us what son it is
that our master has."
"The little Moor that he picked up after the battle, when you left us to
run after the four big Moors to the ditch into which your horse fell.
That is what I was going to speak about, and I was only having a little
joke with you, in order to excite your curiosity."
"I swear to you, Alvar," said Fernan, brandishing his lance, "that such
jokes may cost you dear, if you persist in them. A respectable page or
squire can be pleasant without defaming the honour of anyone, and least
of all that of ladies, for even the purest cannot escape calumny."
"And I swear to you," replied Alvar, "that from this day forward I will
cut out my tongue rather than say, even in jest, a word against either
my mistress or master. My discretion with regard to speaking about
people will increase, but my affection for those we both serve can never
be greater than it is. But, returning to the little Moor, whom my master
has adopted, what has become of him, that we do not see him?"
"He is coming along amongst the captives," answered Fernan; "and, by my
faith, neither he, nor the Moorish kings who have been taken prisoners,
can complain, for they are carried in litters, as if they were going to
the court as conquerors."
"God save us!" exclaimed Alvar; "my master does things, and I am a Moor
if I understand them. Some of the Christians are jogging along on
horseback, with sore bones, and others are blistering their feet on
these roads, hard as those of purgatory, and the Moors are quite
comfortable in soft litters."
"You fool, and a hundred times more than a fool, who has given you
authority to find fault with what our master does?" interrupted Fernan.
"He is so good a subject that he respects even Moors when they bear the
name of king,--even though they may be greater Moors than Mahomet
himself."
"However, if they were kings before they were conquered, they are now no
longer such."
"Good cavaliers, like our master, have more respect for a conquered
enemy than for one whom they have still to conquer. No doubt those kings
entered our territories pillaging and slaying, but they believed that
they were right in doing so, just as we would think the same if we
invaded their kingdoms. As to the Moorish child, would you yourself like
to see him painfully toiling on amid the legs of our horses. The heart
of our master is as tender towards the weak as it is stern towards the
strong, and he has thought and acted in a different manner. That poor
boy, who has seen his father die before his eyes, and who is being
brought into a foreign country at the mercy of strangers, is very
unfortunate. On account of his grief and despair, Don Rodrigo ordered
that he should be carried in the litter of one of the kings, as the
company of one of his own race would naturally be more pleasing to him
than that of a stranger. You will see how our mistresses, Doña Teresa
and Doña Ximena, will console him when he arrives at Burgos, with those
blessed words which they have always ready, to give joy to the sad and
consolation to the wretched."
With conversations such as these the squires and pages were proceeding
onward, when Rodrigo and those who accompanied him stopped on an
extensive plain, at a short distance from Burgos, from which several
roads branched off in various directions. According as the different
bodies of warriors arrived, they halted in that place, and, when they
were all reunited, Rodrigo summoned together the leaders, in order to
proceed to the division of the spoils, according to the rules which were
observed on such occasions.
As the spoils were numerous and valuable, everyone got a good share,
which, with the fact that the division was fair and equitable,
contributed much to the satisfaction and pleasure of all who
participated in them.
After this the army broke up, each captain marching off his men to his
own district. All of them, when departing, bade farewell to Rodrigo with
loud and prolonged cheers.
It is almost unnecessary to add that, if the captains of the various
bands received such valuable shares of the spoils, that portion which
their general, Rodrigo, received was very rich indeed. He then proceeded
to Burgos with all that had been allotted to him, bringing on amongst
the captives the five Moorish kings, who, according to the "Chronicle,"
on arriving at Burgos, knelt with great respect before Teresa and
Ximena, who were very pleased and contented therewith, and praised the
Lord God, weeping with joy on account of the brave deeds which Rodrigo
had performed.