WHAT HAPPENED TO RODRIGO ON THE ROAD TO COMPOSTELA
There could be seen in the palace of the lords of Vivar, at Burgos,
great commotion amongst knights, squires, and pages, as if preparations
were being made for a journey which was to immediately commence. At the
gate of the palace stood several horses fully caparisoned, the number of
which was increasing every moment, according as fresh cavaliers arrived,
dismounted, and proceeded into the apartments occupied by the noble
family. Amongst the squires, who held the horses by their bridles, were
Fernan and Alvar, who was trying to keep Babieca quiet, as his prancing
and neighing were throwing the other horses into confusion. That noble
animal seemed quite excited by the preparations for a campaign which
were going on around him. He was no longer the poor-looking hack which
Rodrigo had selected in the stables of Don Peyre, and which excited the
laughter of the passers-by. His body had filled up, his coat had changed
and acquired gloss, he carried his head well and bravely, and his entire
appearance and movements were noble and free.
"By the soul of Beelzebub," Fernan was saying, "this Babieca thinks
that he will be soon in close quarters with the Moors, and he can't
contain his delight. My lord and master is fortunate in everything. If
the son of my mother had a horse like that, he would not exchange it for
the steed of a king. And," he added, passing his hand over the sides of
the intelligent animal, "my good Babieca, what you eat puts a shine on
you. If you were mine it is not oats you would get, but the best bread."
Overo, which was also there, brilliantly caparisoned, approached his
head to Fernan, rubbing it against him, as if jealous of the praises
which were being lavished on Babieca. The squire turned towards him,
stroking him also with his hand, and said--
"Hola, Overo! are you jealous, my son? If you were as brave as Babieca,
I would caress and reward you in fine style. But do not let my praises
of Babieca trouble you, for your well-filled sides witness that I treat
you well. You are not very spirited, indeed; but everyone is as God made
him, and it is not just to punish failings which come to one from his
mother. Here are our masters, who treat Alvar as the very best of their
servants, and for all that he has not even as much spunk in him as you
have, Overo."
"By my soul, Fernan!" cried Alvar in a passion, "you must give up
comparisons of that kind."
"If you only were braver, I would compare you to Babieca."
"It is my misfortune that this knave of a squire is always making fun of
me!" muttered Alvar, still very angry, but fearing to irritate Fernan.
"I wonder why you show such enmity towards me for some time back," he
added, turning towards him. "Have I offended you in any way, Fernan?"
"And you dare ask me such a question, when the reins of Overo answered a
similar one on your ribs yesterday? I swear to you, Alvar, by the soul
of Beelzebub, that I will break every bone in your body if you don't
treat the Moorish boy like the son of a prince."
"I certainly do scold him sometimes, but it is because his pranks, which
you laugh at and applaud, irritate me."
"I applaud them because sprightliness in children should be applauded.
Ismael, or rather Gil, for our masters have given him that name, is a
little turbulent; but for that very reason I believe that he will grow
up to be a brave youth, and a skilful and daring warrior. I have given
him only about a dozen lessons in horsemanship and the use of arms, and
he is now, as God hears me, almost as expert in such things as I am
myself."
The squire and the page had got thus far in their conversation when they
had to interrupt it, as they heard the cavaliers coming.
Rodrigo Diaz was indeed about to undertake a long journey, and his
cousins and several knights of Burgos, who considered it a great honour
to be permitted to do so, were to accompany him. He was going to
Compostela, to visit the shrine of the apostle St. James, for the
purpose of returning thanks to him for the victory of the mountains of
Oca, and also to comply with the custom, which every good knight
practised at least once in his life, of prostrating himself before the
holy patron of Spain, on whose aid he counted in all his warlike deeds.
At the same time Rodrigo desired to pay a visit to the king, Don
Fernando, who at that time was personally superintending the
reconstruction of Zamora, from whence he had sent him letters,
congratulating him on the victory of Oca, and expressing an earnest
desire to see him. Zamora the Beautiful, as our romance-writers call it,
had been destroyed by the Moors in the time of Don Bermudo III., the
last King of Leon, whom Don Fernando had defeated in a battle fought on
the banks of the river Carrion, in which Don Bermudo lost his life;
after this the King of Castile had joined the two crowns. Don Fernando
had the intention of leaving it to his daughter Urraca as a legacy, and
for that reason he was assisting in person at its reconstruction,
endeavouring with much trouble to make the jewel, which he was preparing
for his daughter, worthy of her who was to be the possessor of it.
Rodrigo Diaz, with the cavaliers, squires, and pages of his escort,
mounted their steeds at the gate of the palace, and waving adieu to
those who came to the windows to bid them farewell, they quitted Burgos
and took the road to Zamora, all in excellent spirits, although Rodrigo
felt that he was almost leaving his soul behind when he parted from
Ximena and his parents. Fernan also felt rather sad on leaving Mayor,
whom he had sworn would henceforth be his only love, even if there were
wars, in which so many men should be killed, that there would be fully
four women left for each of those who survived.
The name of Rodrigo Diaz resounded through all parts of the country; the
son of the grandee of Vivar was an object of love and admiration to both
Castilians and Leonese, for his brave deeds had reached the ears of
all. For this reason, wherever he passed, the people crowded out to
welcome him; and in the plains, where he halted to spend the night,
there was warm rivalry as to who should have the honour of entertaining
him in his house. This was naturally very pleasing to Rodrigo, but, in
order to give offence to none, he arranged that he, and those who
accompanied, should lodge in the public hostelries which were not
wanting on that route.
The night was somewhat advanced when they came near to Medina de
Riosico; it had rained so heavily during the day that the roads were
almost impassable; it was, moreover, very cold, and the darkness was
complete. Our cavaliers were crossing an extensive morass, when they
thought they heard very doleful moans issuing from a thicket, which lay
at the side of the road, and when they stopped their horses, in order to
hear better, a weak voice became audible, which said--
"Help me, travellers, whoever you are; if not, I shall die in this
thicket! Alas! I have lost my sight, and I cannot save myself with my
feet and hands."
"Be not uneasy," replied Rodrigo in a loud voice; "you shall be
succoured without delay." He then continued, addressing his companions:
"It must be some unfortunate mendicant who has lost his way in the
darkness and amongst the thick bushes which grow hereabout. Let us seek
him out and bring him with us to Medina, which is near here, and where
we are to halt for the night."
He then guided Babieca towards the spot from whence the groans
proceeded, but the ground was so cut up, and the thicket so dense, that
the horses were scarcely able to advance a dozen paces. Rodrigo
therefore dismounted, and, giving the reins of Babieca to Fernan,
advanced so rapidly into the thicket, that none of his companions were
able to follow him. Guided by the voice of him who had lost his way, he
came to where he was, and found an old man stretched on the ground,
covered with mud, soaked with water, and his limbs paralysed by the
cold, as well as by some nervous affection he had in them. He raised him
from the ground, filled with compassion, and endeavoured to encourage
and console him. When he asked him how he got into such a place, the old
man replied--
"I lost my way in the evening, and tried for a long time to find it
again, but without success, for the more I moved about in this thicket,
the more did I become perplexed, until, my strength having become
exhausted, and my body benumbed with cold, I fell in the place where you
found me. In vain did I call out for aid to those who passed by, but
they either did not hear me, or did not want to give themselves trouble.
I had then resigned myself to die, and become the food of the wild
animals which frequent this thicket, when I heard you, and summoned up
sufficient strength to call out. God will protect him who raised up the
weak, and guided the blind!"
Rodrigo endeavoured to get the unfortunate man to walk out of the
morass, but he was soon convinced that he could not move a step, and
then, finding more strength in his kindly heart than even in his
shoulders, he took him up on them, and, although he met with many
obstacles, got back to the road, which he had left, in a very short
time. The old man wept with gratitude and joy. Fernan wished to put him
on his horse, and walk by its side to Medina, for he did not consider
Overo strong enough to carry a double burden, especially as the road was
so very bad. Rodrigo, however, did not wish to share the credit of
saving the unfortunate old man.
"Babieca," he said, "is well able to carry two men, not alone to Medina,
but even the entire distance to Zamora. You will see how easily and
bravely he will continue his journey."
Thus speaking, Rodrigo mounted Babieca, and, with the assistance of
Fernan, got up the old man on the saddle behind him. They all proceeded
then towards Medina, where they arrived half an hour afterwards.
The table was ready laid, and knights and squires prepared for their
supper. Rodrigo made the old man sit down beside him, to eat with them,
notwithstanding that this determination displeased the other cavaliers,
whom the dirt and the wounds of the mendicant disgusted. The supper,
however, began, and as the hands of the old man were palsied, he let
fall the food when carrying it to his mouth, which only moved Rodrigo to
compassion for him. The other cavaliers could scarcely eat their meal on
account of the repugnance which the old man caused them, and at last
arose from the table, saying that they could not bear the sight any
longer. Rodrigo rebuked them sharply, and obliged the mendicant to
remain at the table in order to finish his supper, although he was
desirous of leaving the room, so as not to trouble the companions of his
generous benefactor.
When the supper was ended; when the blind man had somewhat recovered his
strength; when the heat of the hearth had taken the numbness from his
limbs; when his heart, in fine, had been consoled by the kindness of
Rodrigo, the young cavalier began to talk familiarly to that unfortunate
man, and by degrees the other cavaliers, who had gone to sup in another
apartment, returned, desirous of hearing the stories which doubtless the
blind man would relate.
"Ah, sir knight," he then said to Rodrigo, "how much would I rejoice to
be able to repay your kindness! But what remains to me in this world?
Nothing but a sad heart to express its gratitude,--and this instrument,
with which I earn a poor subsistence," he added, pointing to his lute.
One of the nephews of Rodrigo--the youngest and most cheerful of
them--said, on hearing these words--
"If it will be pleasing to you, my uncle and lord, and to himself also,
this old man can amuse us for a while by singing to the accompaniment of
his lute some of the ballads which he doubtless knows."
"I shall do so with very great pleasure," answered the blind man.
And as he felt that Rodrigo was not opposed to the proposal, he took up
his lute and began to touch its strings with considerable skill and
lightness, notwithstanding the palsy with which he was afflicted. He
then suddenly stopped and said--
"Listen, cavaliers and squires, listen to the true story of a peasant
from whom a traitor count stole his daughter, in order to dishonour her,
and whose eyes he put out in order that he might not be able to avenge
himself."
He then sang, with the accompaniment of his lute--
"Cavaliers of Leon,
Castilian cavaliers!
Haughty with the strong,
But gentle with the weak!
Through Leon and Castilian lands,
Wanders a poor old man,
A count's foul crimes denouncing--
For a vile wretch is that count.
He cannot take revenge himself,
For age his body bends,
And his eyes now only serve
To weep o'er his sad fate.
Come to the aid of that old man,
In his most wretched plight,--
Cavaliers of Leon,
Castilian cavaliers!
That vile count stole his daughter,--
She was fair as a May rose,--
And put him in a prison dark,
Where the tyrant then did blind
That sad, ill-fated, wretched man.
Who will dry his constant tears?
Who will give him back his child?
Cavaliers, if such ye are,
Punish that accursed count,--
Him who bears off maidens fair,
Him who vilely blinds old men.
Such is the duty of the good,
Such is the mission of the great
Cavaliers of Leon,
Castilian cavaliers!"
The old man ceased his song, for he became almost suffocated with sobs
and tears. Those who had been listening to him were also much moved, and
their indignation was so great against the count, who had been alluded
to, although they did not know who he was, that if he appeared in their
presence at that moment, they would have rushed at him with their naked
swords.
"Do you tell us that your story is true?" asked Rodrigo.
"Yes, it is true, sir knight, unfortunately for me," he replied.
"Unfortunately for you? As I hope to be saved," exclaimed Rodrigo,
remembering the adventure which Beatrice had related to him and to
Fernan, "that count is the Count of Carrion, and you are the old man
whose daughter was stolen!"
"You are quite right, sir knight."
"I vow by Judas Iscariot, that I would willingly give ten years of my
life to be able to put ten inches of my sword into the breast of that
felon count!" exclaimed Fernan, giving vent to his indignation, which he
could not restrain, although he knew it was contrary to his duty to
interrupt the conversation of his master.
"And you know nothing of your daughter?" asked Rodrigo of the blind man.
"I do not know, sir knight, what has become of her, but I suppose the
count keeps her shut up in his castle, for, if not, she would have
endeavoured to find her unfortunate father, whom she loved so much, and
loves still if she is alive."
The poor old man, as we see, was far from suspecting how different his
daughter had become since the count had deprived her of her robe of
innocence.
"And have you found no cavalier to take upon himself the carrying out of
the revenge which you desire?" asked Rodrigo.
"I have found," replied the old man, "a soldier, as brave as he is
kind-hearted; but up to the present he has not been able to do
anything."
"Then we will assist him in his task, and, as God lives, it shall not
avail the count to shut himself up in his castle and lend a deaf ear to
every challenge, as is his custom," said Rodrigo.
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed all present; "we must punish that accursed count,
who is a disgrace to the nobility of Leon and Castile."
"Oh," cried the unfortunate old man, filled with joy, "God will assist
you in your noble enterprise. My journey to Medina has not been in vain,
for if I have not met the valiant and noble cavalier whom I was in
search of, I have found another, not less kind-hearted and
compassionate."
"Who was the cavalier whom you were seeking?" asked Rodrigo.
"Don Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, he who was expected to lodge here to-night,"
he replied.
"Then you find here him you were in search of."
"My God!" exclaimed the old man, scarcely able to speak, such was his
surprise, kissing the hand which Rodrigo held out to him. "Can it be
possible that he who carried me on his shoulders, and seated me at his
table, is Don Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, the conqueror in the mountains of
Oca, the son of Diego Lainez, the descendant of the Judges of Castile,
the most noble, honoured, powerful, and brave cavalier of Spain?"
"Rodrigo Diaz is he who took you on his shoulders, seated you at his
table, and intends to share his bed with you," replied the son of Diego
Lainez.
"Oh, my lord," cried the old man, not knowing how to express his
gratitude, "your kindness to me has been too great; but to share your
bed with me, a beggar, full of misery and dirt! No, no, that cannot be,
my lord."
"You say that I am noble, honoured, and powerful. Who but the powerful,
the honoured, and the noble should console and protect the afflicted,
the sad, and the defenceless? Let us go to rest, for we all stand much
in need of it, and particularly you, a feeble old man."
Rodrigo, his companions, and the blind man then retired, and in reality
the former did share his bed with the mendicant. Divine rays of charity
which would have adorned the noble brow of the cavalier with the aureole
of the saints, if his brave deeds had not adorned it with the laurel
crown of the hero; for charity modestly hides herself, whilst warlike
heroism cannot do so.
It is impossible to describe the gratitude of the unhappy old man when,
the following morning, he parted from the compassionate cavalier. It is
impossible also to describe the inspired accents in which, shedding
abundant tears, he said to Rodrigo--
"My lord, I feel confident that God has sent me to you to bring you glad
tidings. You are loved by Him; you will conquer in all your battles;
your honours and your prosperity will increase; you will be feared by
the bad and loved by the good, and you will die happy, blessed by God
and by men."
Rodrigo looked on these words as a divine prophecy. The accents in which
they were pronounced made him believe that it was such.
At the rising of the sun, that bright and beautiful sun which follows a
storm, Rodrigo and his companions departed from Medina de Rioseco, with
the intention of reaching Zamora on that day; which they succeeded in
doing.
Here, where but a short time before could be seen heaps of rubbish,
between which nettles and brambles grew and reptiles hissed, where it
might have been said, "Here was Zamora," using the expression applied in
old times to the city of Æneas--here, we repeat, were springing up
magnificent temples with high turrets, superb palaces, and strong
fortifications; and bustle and animation had succeeded to the silence
and solitude which had but recently reigned there.
The king, Don Fernando, was just going to dinner when he was informed
that Rodrigo had arrived in the city. The joy of the wise and good
monarch was very great; Don Fernando did not look upon the cavalier,
whom he was about to see, as a vassal, but as the most beloved of his
friends--even more than that, as one of his sons. Even the circumstance
of being separated from his family, which had remained in Burgos and was
so dear to him, had caused him to desire with greater eagerness the
arrival of Rodrigo, for he had now passed a considerable time without
being able to expand his heart in the calm pleasures of family life. He
therefore longed to have at his side one, with whom he could feel
himself joined by closer and softer bonds than those which usually
unite the lord to his vassal, in order that he might satisfy the most
imperious necessity of his soul, that of living in the bosom of
friendship. He had scarcely learned that Rodrigo had crossed the
threshold of the palace when he went to meet him, like a father who goes
out to meet a son after a long absence from the paternal dwelling. The
brave and noble cavalier was about to prostrate himself at the feet of
the king, like a good vassal as he was, but Don Fernando did not allow
him to do so, for he opened his arms and pressed him in them, with an
effusion of affection and esteem almost paternal, saying to him, "You
are very welcome, Rodrigo, glory of Castile and strongest pillar of my
throne."
"Oh, sire," exclaimed Rodrigo, much moved by so flattering a reception,
"the strongest pillars of your throne are your own wisdom, your
goodness, and the affection which your subjects feel for you. I am one
of them, and I would not change my condition for yours, for the honours
you confer on me are of more value in my eyes than a throne."
"I love you, Rodrigo, as the best of my vassals, and I repay but poorly
all your services to me. I do not alone admire and respect you as the
descendant of Lain Calvo, as the son of Diego Lainez, as the valiant
youth who knew how to avenge the insult inflicted on his honour, as he
who conquered the bravest of the Aragonian knights, and finally, as the
hero who gained one of the most glorious triumphs over the Moorish
power; but as the magnanimous and generous cavalier who restored to
freedom Abengalvon and his companions in misfortune. How great loyalty
must not the King of Castile and Leon expect from him who, having
conquered them, respected even the enemies of his God and his country,
because they bore the name of king."
All the cavaliers who were with Don Fernando were also much rejoiced at
the arrival of Rodrigo, and felicitated him on his victory at Oca.
Rodrigo was soon seated at the king's table, which honour he enjoyed
during the few days he was obliged to spend in Zamora, for Don Fernando
was unwilling that he should depart, and only consented at last on
account of the sacred object of his journey.
The day at last arrived on which he had to resume it. Everything was
ready for his departure, when a great commotion was noticed amongst the
townspeople who were thronging towards the avenue which led to the royal
Alcazar. The king, Rodrigo, and the courtiers went out on a balcony,
and were much surprised at the strange spectacle which they saw. A large
number of Moors, richly clad, were leading more than a hundred horses
gorgeously caparisoned, and in addition several mules all heavily
loaded.
When the Moors arrived at the gates of the Alcazar, they sent to ask
Rodrigo's permission to appear in his presence. He conceded it, having
obtained the assent of the king, and they entered the apartment in which
the noble cavalier awaited them, seated beside the king, who thus
honoured him in order that the Moslims might see in what estimation he
was held.
"_Cid_," said to Rodrigo he who seemed to be the leader of the
ambassadors, "Abengalvon, king of Molina, Mahomad, king of Huesca, Ali,
king of Zaragoza, Osmin, king of Teruel, and Hamet, king of Calatayud,
whom you took prisoners in the mountains of Oca, and to whom you
generously restored their freedom, send you their tributes and pay you
homage, as vassals who are pleased to do so. In addition, they send you,
as marks of friendship and gratitude, thirty sorrel horses, thirty black
horses, twenty white, and twenty dapple-grey, besides valuable ornaments
and precious stones for your spouse, and rich cloths and good arms for
yourself and your knights."
"You are mistaken in your errand," replied Rodrigo modestly and humbly;
"you have called me _Cid_, which in your language signifies 'a lord over
vassals,' and I am not a lord where my king is, but only the least of
his vassals. Here you see my king, and to him you must pay homage, and
to him you must offer the tributes and the marks of friendship which
Abengalvon and his friends have confided to your charge."
"Say to your masters," interrupted the king, exceedingly pleased by his
humility, and addressing the Moors, "that although their lord is not a
king himself, he is seated beside the King of Castile and Leon; tell
them also that to him I owe a large portion of the territories which I
possess, and that I consider it a greater glory to have him as my vassal
than to be a king myself. As you have called him 'Cid,' it is my will
that from this day he shall bear that name."
Rodrigo then received the tributes and gifts which the Moorish kings had
sent to him, and wrote to each of them a letter, expressing his thanks,
and promising to return their loyalty and friendship.
The ambassadors received from the hand of Rodrigo valuable presents, and
departed, repeating the name of 'Cid,' which the son of Diego Lainez was
henceforth to bear, and to which was soon added _Campeador_,[1] which
both Moors and Christians conferred on him, on account of his constant
and glorious triumphs on the fields of battle.
[1] "Warrior," in old Spanish.
A few hours after he had received this honourable embassy, Rodrigo left
Zamora, with the friends and servants who accompanied him on his
journey; all were in good spirits and desirous of arriving at
Compostela, in order to fulfil the duties of Christian cavaliers before
the altar of the holy apostle, and afterwards practise other duties in
the districts which were frequently invaded by the Moors.