IN WHICH THE PROVERB, "LET THE MIRACLE BE WROUGHT, EVEN THOUGH THE DEVIL
DOES IT," IS JUSTIFIED
The Cid was burning with impatience to overtake the Moors, who were
ravaging Estremadura. They were committing more outrages than ever
before, for they had not invaded the states of Don Fernando on any
former occasion with so much impetuosity and ferocity. Rodrigo saw with
the eyes of his soul all their barbarities; he saw the harvests cut down
and burned, the flocks stolen, churches and private dwellings sacked,
some of the inhabitants inhumanly butchered, and others, even more
unfortunate, taken captive and savagely maltreated; he saw those who
were still free raising their hands to heaven and imploring God for
mercy, beseeching Him to send a warrior who might chastise those savage
invaders; an angel who, with his flaming sword, might exterminate those
barbarous and impious men, who looked on nothing as sacred. And the
brave and noble heart of the Castilian leader bled for the sufferings of
those unfortunate people. The Cid crossed the frontier of Estremadura,
at the head of his valorous army, filled with joy as if he were entering
the Promised Land. On all sides his eyes saw the marks of fire and blood
which the infidels had left on their track. Rapidly, however, as the
Castilian army marched on, they could not discover the infidels, and
Rodrigo and his men were filled with fury, seeing that all their
diligence was in vain.
The Moors had learned that the invincible Christian army was advancing
on them; to return to Portugal was the same as to go straight to meet
them; to proceed towards the kingdom of Toledo was to expose themselves
to be driven back from the frontier, for they knew that Almenon would
not wish to lose the friendship of Don Fernando by admitting them into
his dominions. The only thing that was open to them was to proceed
straight on, pass through the centre of Castile and cross the Moncayo,
with the object of taking refuge in some one of the many small Moorish
states into which Aragon was then divided; they adopted, therefore, that
latter course, and continued their march into the interior of Castile,
increasing on their way the stores of rich booty which they had taken in
Estremadura. As they were, however, a day's march in advance of the Cid,
it was not possible for him to overtake them as soon as he desired. Both
armies, however, were now in Castile; and Rodrigo, fearing that the
Moors might be able to carry out their intention of getting into Aragon
before he could overtake them, determined to make a final effort, an
almost superhuman one, in order to fall on them and wrench from them the
numerous captives whom they were carrying off, and punish their audacity
and their cruelties. At last he overtook them, between Atienza and San
Esteban de Gormaz, and a battle commenced, furious on both sides.
The army of the Cid, though having the advantage in valour, was less
numerous than that of the enemy; however, the circumstance of their
being on their native soil, and their courage, which had been increased
by their efforts for so long a time to attack the invaders, were
elements which were much in their favour. The Moors resolved to defend
their booty at all costs, for it was so valuable that they would leave
nothing undone in order to retain it. The Castilian squadrons threw
themselves several times against the infidels, but were each time
repulsed, with heavy loss on both sides. The Cid was always in the very
front, spurring on his steed to close with his adversaries, and at his
side could be seen Fernan, although to keep up with Babieca, which flew
at the slightest touch of the spur, he had almost to flay the sides of
Overo.
"On, on! St. James of Compostela!" cried the Cid, burning with anger at
seeing the impotence of all his efforts, and preparing for a fresh
charge. "We shall all die on those fields of our native land rather than
lose the name of Invincibles which Castile has given us, for it is
better to die fighting than to live flying. Do you not hear, cavaliers,
those lamentations which rise from the enemies' camp? They come from the
unhappy Christians whom those infidels drag on with them, loaded with
chains and trampled under the hoofs of their chargers. We are their only
hope; they trust in us, they call down on our heads the blessing of God,
as we have come to fight bravely for them in order to save them from
captivity, and they should justly curse us if they saw us turning back
like cowards. We conquered in Portugal, shall we be defeated in
Castile--in Castile, where the ashes of our brave forefathers repose,
where the eyes of a mother, of a wife, or of a beloved maiden look upon
our deeds? Onward, cavaliers! follow me, conquer or die with me; for I
will conquer, or die as a brave man!"
When he had pronounced those last words the Cid rushed on the enemy, and
with him all his cavaliers, shouting enthusiastically, proving the
influence which the words and the example of their brave leader
exercised on those sturdy warriors.
The hostile army was divided into two bodies, stationed within ten
crossbow-shots of each other. At the same time both were attacked by
the Christians, whose squadrons got separated when the charge was made;
the Cid closing with the Moors to the right, whilst Martin Antolinez, to
whom he had confided his standard, attacked those on the left. Both
bodies received the Christians with the points of their lances and the
keen edges of their cimeters; the division attacked by the Cid was not
able to resist the charge, and took to flight in the greatest disorder,
followed and cut down by the Castilians.
The Cid and his followers had already disappeared in the distance,
pursuing the enemy, blinded by fury and desirous of exterminating them,
and as yet Martin Antolinez had not succeeded in breaking the Moorish
squadron, which was stationed to the left. The fight was becoming every
moment more obstinate and bloody, and its result was becoming more and
more doubtful. The soldiers of Antolinez, instead of gaining ground were
rather losing it, as the Moors, seeing themselves deprived of all chance
of aid, were now fighting with the desperation of those who, having lost
all hope of saving themselves, desire to savour death with the pleasure
of vengeance. The Christians, rendered more courageous by that strenuous
resistance, broke at last into the midst of their enemies, without
thinking of the risk of such an undertaking, and then the Moors,
availing themselves of a rapid and skilful piece of strategy, surrounded
them on all sides, and the conflict became still more furious. The
Christians were horribly cut up by the sword strokes, and all their
strength was vainly expended against that circle of hostile lances which
encircled them, and which was closing round them closer and closer each
moment; hope of escape was scarcely left to them, and the green standard
of the Cid would soon be in the hands of his foes, although Martin
Antolinez, who held it aloft in one hand, whilst he brandished his sword
with the other, cutting down an enemy at each stroke, was resolved to
save it or to die under its shadow. Fatigue and want of breath was
beginning to tell on the Christian cavaliers. Antolinez cast from time
to time a rapid glance across the plain to see if assistance of any kind
was coming to them; the plain, however, was deserted, and he only could
see the line of corpses which the Moors, pursued by the Cid, were
leaving behind them, and several captives who had succeeded in escaping
from their captors during the battle. Those were wandering about, still
manacled and uncertain as to the fate which might befall them. A
multitude of his enemies composed the circle around Antolinez, attacking
him with fury, endeavouring to capture the standard. The brave man of
Burgos defended himself with the most stubborn courage, but his blood
was staining the equipments of his horse; Alvar, Fañez Minaya, and other
cavaliers were fighting vainly to free him from his enemies.
"Cowards!" cried out Antolinez to the Moors. "A brave deed, forsooth, is
yours--twenty of you to attack one cavalier! Fight with me, not one
against one, but four against one, and you will see whether my sword
pierce not your hearts, e'er you shall drag from my hand the standard of
my Cid!"
Thus speaking, he showered furious blows on his enemies, the number of
whom was increasing every moment. At last a cimeter struck the arm which
held up the standard, and it fell from his hand notwithstanding all the
efforts he made to retain it, for the cut was terrible. The despair of
Antolinez then reached its height: the good cavalier, rendered incapable
of guiding his steed, spurred it on furiously and dashed into the midst
of the enemy, making a bloody opening through them.
But behold, when the Castilians were almost completely vanquished, a
loud cry was heard in the distance, and about fifty horsemen were seen
rushing towards the combat with the fleetness of the wind.
"St. James! St. James!" they shouted, and that cry was full of terror
for the Moors, and full of hope for Martin Antolinez and his men.
Who are those who thus come to the aid of the Christians? They cannot be
the squadron of the Campeador, for it is pursuing the Moors in the
direction opposite to that from which those horsemen appear. Behold
them, behold them already at the place of combat: two handsome youths
and a man of colossal stature, and evidently of great strength, lead the
band.
Justice of God! with what fury they rush into the midst of the Moors,
throw them into confusion, and scatter them in all directions! What
fierce cuts and thrusts they give! How the dead bodies of the Moslems
roll upon the ground!
"Cavaliers, whoever you are, to me, to me! Rescue the standard of the
Campeador, which these cowards have torn from my grasp!" cried Martin
Antolinez, addressing the leaders of the newly-arrived combatants.
"We will all die or save it," cried Guillen, for it was he, with Martin,
Rui-Venablos, and all the bandits who composed the band of the
Vengador, that had arrived fortunately before it was too late, to the
aid of Martin Antolinez and his soldiers.
And whilst Martin and Rui-Venablos continued to fight like lions in the
thick of the hostile force, Guillen rushed like lightning against the
Moorish horseman who had succeeded in capturing the green standard of
the Cid, and who was holding and defending it tenaciously. His lance
caused great slaughter amongst the enemy, who endeavoured to avoid his
thrusts, and soon were thrown into disorder: the Moor, however, who had
wounded Antolinez and taken the standard from him, would not yield up
that inestimable prize, the acquiring of which had been so difficult; he
fought front to front with Guillen, and to judge by the fury of the
combat, one or other must soon cease to exist. Blow followed blow with
fearful rapidity, and both combatants were wounded more or less
severely.
"St. James! St. James to my aid!" shouted Guillen, grasping his lance
with desperate force, and making so furious a thrust at his enemy that
he fell from his horse pierced through the breast. The youth dragged
from him the standard which, even when falling dead, he still held
convulsively clutched in his hand, and, raising it aloft and waving it
gallantly above his head, cried--
"Victory! victory! St. James!"
When they saw the standard rescued, the Castilian soldiers felt their
strength redoubled, and in a few minutes the Moslem squadron was flying
before them.
However, as it was numerous, some hundreds of horse soldiers succeeded
in escaping from the field of battle, abandoning what remained to them
of the rich booty which they had seized on their long march.
The Christians dashed on in their pursuit, guided by the standard of the
Cid which Guillen waved in the van, and as the Moors fled they left
behind a very large number of their dead, for the Castilians came up
with them from time to time and cut them down without mercy.
The soldiers of Martin Antolinez had pursued the Moors for about half an
hour, when they perceived in the distance the Cid, who was returning to
the assistance of his men, when he had finished with that division of
the enemy in pursuit of which he had gone. All the Castilian forces were
soon reunited, and the entire army continued the pursuit for more than
seven leagues, until the Moorish army was completely destroyed.
Scarcely a Moor escaped the Castilian steel; that formidable Moslem army
which, haughty and devastating, had penetrated into Estremadura and
overrun all Castile, ceased to exist before they could reach Aragon, and
the Cid and his cavaliers made themselves masters of the very rich
spoils which they were bearing away with them.
Scarcely had Rodrigo rejoined the division commanded by Martin Antolinez
when his attention was called to the band of the Vengador, and
especially to the youth who was bearing his standard; but as it was then
incumbent on him to continue the pursuit of the Moors, he postponed,
till that was ended, the obtaining of information as to what had
happened, and as to who those soldiers were who had exhibited such
bravery in the fight.
Therefore, as soon as the Castilian army had finished with the Moors and
collected the spoils together, he sat down to take the rest of which he
was so much in need, and Martin Antolinez and other cavaliers, who were
in his company at the commencement of the combat, related to the Cid all
that had taken place. Martin Antolinez, who cared only for his wound
because it prevented him from using his sword, told his leader that his
soldiers were on the point of yielding and abandoning the standard when
the unknown band arrived to their aid; he narrated to him the valour and
the dexterity with which those men, especially their captains, had
fought, and finally the heroic efforts by which that youth, whose name
he was ignorant of, had rescued the standard.
Rodrigo advanced towards Guillen, the Vengador, and Rui-Venablos, and
opened his arms to them, filled with enthusiasm and gratitude.
"You have saved my standard," he said to the former, "and all the
treasures of the world would appear too small a recompense for so great
a service."
"My lord," answered Guillen, much moved, and feeling his heart throb
with joy, for he was beginning to realise the hopes of glory of which he
had dreamed for so long a time, "the service you mention merits no
reward, for every soldier should do his duty, and I have done no more
than accomplish mine. For good men it is a sufficient recompense to know
that they have served God and their native land; but if the rescue from
the infidels of your glorious standard merits a greater reward than that
which I have mentioned, pay it to me by granting me the honour of being
one of your soldiers, to fight in your army and by your side against
the Moorish power."
"I shall consider myself much honoured if you and your companions will
aid me in this war. You shall be my friends, my brothers-in-arms. In my
heart, which the sanguinary scenes of battlefields cannot move, there is
a space, by no means small, destined for gratitude and sweet friendship;
in that space you will always occupy one of the chief positions."
Guillen, Martin, and Rui-Venablos listened with moist eyes to that noble
cavalier, to that valiant leader, who won hearts with a single word, for
in that word was manifested the most generous and best soul that could
animate a man.
Guillen, Martin, and Rui-Venablos felt it their duty not to conceal
their antecedents from Rodrigo Diaz, for he was sufficiently just to do
justice to those who had it on their side, sufficiently sensible not to
let himself be borne away by vulgar prejudices, and sufficiently
clear-sighted to understand the motives by which men were animated. For
these reasons it appeared to them a treason, which their consciences
could not tolerate, were they to present themselves to that cavalier, so
loyal, so kind, and so sincere, otherwise than as they had really been.
A curious observer could not fail to have taken note of an animated
discussion which took place on the following day amongst Fernan Cardeña,
Alvar, Lope, and other pages and squires, whilst the army of the Cid was
marching towards Burgos, in the midst of the noisiest and most
enthusiastic ovations of the Castilian people; these were more ardent
even than those of which they were the objects on their return from the
battle of the mountains of Oca. That discussion was very curious and so
connected with the objects we have in view that we think it well to
insert it on our pages.
"I say to you, Fernan," said Alvar, "that if I were as old as you are,
if I had the prizes you have won in this campaign, and a wife to marry
as good and loving as Mayorica is, I vow to God that I would wed her as
soon as I got back to Burgos, and give up at once the profession of
arms."
"I swear, by the soul of Beelzebub, that you deserve a gag in your
mouth, to keep you from talking such nonsense. Give up at once the
profession of arms? Is it not an honourable one, perchance?"
"Honourable, I admit, but thankless and severe."
"It may be so for those who possess your mean disposition, but not for
those who love glory and advancement."
"And what do you understand by glory, Fernan?"
"I vow by Judas Iscariot that the question of this fool pleases me. What
do I understand by glory? I understand by it, sleeping in camps; awaking
to the noise of the trumpets and drums which sound the alarm; listening
to the neighing of the chargers, impatient to rush on the enemy; giving
sword slashes to the Moors; and seeing the heads of foemen fall about,
as ripe fruit falls from the trees when a brisk breeze blows. That, and
nothing else, is real glory, brother, and the son of my mother would not
exchange it for all other kinds of glory in the world, even that of
marrying girls as handsome and loving as Mayorica."
"However, comrade," said Lope, the discreet squire, who on another
occasion gave two salutary pieces of advice to Fernan on the subject of
love, "one could continue to exercise the honourable profession of arms,
and still have a wife and children; I have such myself, and nevertheless
have not abandoned arms, as you see. Alvar is right in recommending you
to marry Mayor, now that you have means enough to support her."
"Whether I marry or don't marry, as long as there remain Moors for my
master Don Rodrigo to fight against, I will not give up my lance."
"But don't you love Mayorica?"
"I love her, and will continue to love her with all my soul. Oh, how I
long to arrive at Burgos, to see her after so long a separation!"
"Now I see," replied Lope, "that you are begging the question as to
whether you will marry her or not."
"I am indeed thinking of marrying, but it is an unfair thing to have to
bind oneself before God to love only one woman, considering that there
are two or even more for every man."
"Leave aside all that nonsense, comrade, for it sounds badly coming from
a man so ripe in years as you are. To think as you think should be only
for beardless youths, such as he who yesterday rescued the standard of
Don Rodrigo, and I am of opinion that even he would not talk of love
with as little sense as you display in the matter."
"Do you know," said Alvar, "that I look on the friendship and honours
which Don Rodrigo confers on that youth as signs of mere craziness."
"Craziness?" cried Fernan, whose anger was aroused on hearing the page
find fault with his master. "The craziness, which deserves more stripes
than you have hairs on your head, is your own, you confounded fool and
chatterbox. All that Don Rodrigo does is well done."
"I only meant to say that nobody knows in the least who that young man
is; and as to his companions, everybody knows, for they tell it
themselves, that they are the band of the Vengador."
"'Let the miracle be wrought, even though the devil does it.' The
certain thing is, that only for that youth and those who accompanied him
to aid us, the squadron of Martin Antolinez would have been completely
routed, and the standard of Don Rodrigo would be now in the hands of the
infidels. I swear by Judas Iscariot, that if the Cid, my master, had
lost his standard, he would have either died of grief and despair, or
else have pursued the infidels to the ends of the world in order to
recapture it."
"How much soever they may have extolled to you the valour of that
Guillen, whoever he may be, of that Martin, and of that giant who bears
the name of Rui-Venablos, and of all their men," said Lope, "it is
nothing to what they deserve. I happened to be amongst the soldiers of
Martin Antolinez, and thanks to that, I know exactly to what extent
those men deserve the recompenses which the Campeador has bestowed on
them, and promised to bestow on them."
"Well, tell us, then, what recompenses they have received?" asked Alvar.
"He has given," answered Fernan, "double as much of the spoils to each
of them as to the other men in the army; and he has promised Guillen,
who is of peasant origin, like Martin and Rui, that he will be knighted
in Burgos. You need not imagine, moreover, that Don Rodrigo will allow
these men-at-arms to leave his side, for he has taken them into his
pay."
"Anger of God!" exclaimed Alvar, "with what a lucky foot this Guillen
has walked into the profession of arms!"
"And I have heard that our master, who never makes a mistake, has said
that Guillen will be in a short time one of his best captains."
"He will be an emperor if our master goes on thus lavishing favours on
him, for some men are born feet foremost and others head foremost, and
he must be of the former."
"Oh, you cursed charlatan, how envious you are!" said Fernan. "The good
fortune of another man enrages you, no matter how well merited it may
be. I suppose you would like to be made a knight? I tell you, Alvar,
that if I ever hear you say a word against Guillen, or any of those who
have joined the army with him, I'll break your ribs with a cudgel. It is
my duty to defend that youth; only for him the son of my mother would be
now lying, food for wild beasts, on the field of battle where we
defeated the Moors yesterday."
"Relate to us, Fernan, what happened to you," said Alvar; "for I should
like to go slow for a while, as my horse is very much fatigued."
"Don't lay the blame of your falling back on your horse, as it is the
fault of your own cowardly heart," replied Don Rodrigo's squire. "There
is no chance of your scarifying very seriously the flanks of your
charger whenever you shall be required to rush on the enemy."
"Comrade, I say of myself what you said of Overo a short time before you
sallied forth from Burgos to proceed to Compostela, 'everyone is just as
God made him, and faults should not be punished which one brings from
the womb of his mother.' But won't you recount to us what happened to
you yesterday?"
"I shall do so at once. Don Rodrigo, Guillen, and I were fighting, with
more than usual fury, against five Moorish cavaliers, who formed an
impenetrable wall before us. At last we succeeded in breaking through
them and throwing them into disorder. Don Rodrigo rushed in pursuit of
three of them who had fled, and who appeared to be men of rank, whilst
Guillen and I remained fighting with the others, who, to give them their
due, were much braver than their companions, as they did not seek safety
in flight. He who was fighting with me gave so fierce a lance thrust
that, striking the pommel of the saddle, the shock threw down Overo, and
I found myself on the ground, incapable of defending myself. The Moor
was already aiming his lance at me, to fix me to the earth, when
Guillen, who saw what was going on, rushed to my aid, overthrew the
Moor, my antagonist, with his lance, and returning to him whom he had
just left, and who was taking to flight, he pierced him through the
breast. Now you see that, were it not for that brave youth, the weakness
of my horse would have cost me my life."
"Oh, what triumphs you achieve with that high-spirited Overo!" said
Alvar, laughing, which made Fernan very angry.
"By the soul of Beelzebub, if you laugh at my mishaps, it will cost you
dear, Alvar. As to my horse, I swear that if he ever again treats me so,
he shall atone for his fault where he commits it, by being left there as
the prey of wild beasts."
"You always say that, Fernan; if I were your horse I would laugh at your
threats."
"You will see if he laughs the next time he acts in such a manner."
Just as Fernan thus spoke, a bull ran from a herd which was grazing in a
field beside the road, and rushed on the pages and squires with a fury
such as is seldom seen. All were trying to get out of his way, surprised
by such a sudden attack, except Fernan, who, pulling at the reins of
Overo, and preparing his lance, exclaimed--
"Cowards! Do you fly from this miserable beast? You will see, I vow to
Judas Iscariot, that my lance shall soon bring down his pride."
And thus speaking, he directed his steed in the direction of the bull.
The latter gave a furious bellow, and rushed on him who had thus
challenged him. The lance of Fernan struck one of the flanks of the
bull, but glanced off it; the animal charged Overo fiercely, and he
fell, together with his rider, rolling down a very steep declivity, so
that all believed that both of them were killed.
The bull continued to do considerable damage to the squires, none of
whom were able to restrain him, although they did their best, having
recovered from the confusion which his first charge had caused amongst
them.
Rodrigo Diaz, as well as the cavaliers who were conversing with him,
noticed the tumult which had just arisen, and, as soon as he learned the
cause of it, seized his lance, and turning back, guided Babieca towards
the bull. The first victory won by the animal seemed to have increased
his ferocity. He rushed madly at the cavalier who was approaching him,
but the lance of the Cid buried itself in his head, as deep as its steel
head was long.
The bull gave a terrible roar, and fell lifeless on the ground. In the
meantime, Fernan and his steed were brought up from the hollow into
which they had fallen, without more damage than a few, not very serious,
bruises.
"Are you much injured, Fernan?" hastened to ask all his companions.
"No," answered Fernan; "only bruised, but no bones broken. Leave me, by
the soul of Beelzebub! leave me, and go see if Overo has a wound on his
head."
When he was told that Overo had received no hurt of any consequence, joy
appeared on his countenance, and he hastened to mount him again,
saying--
"I am always unlucky with that horse. Many, many indeed, Overo, are the
mishaps thou hast caused me, but if thou actest so again thou shalt pay
for it with thy skin."