What Alvarado had reported of Don Amador was true. The neophyte averred,
that, dead or alive,--a spectre or a creature of flesh and blood,--the
steed, bestridden by the sable phantom, and urged with such fury against
the footmen, was neither less nor more than his own good beast, Fogoso;
and he declared, with even more impetuosity, as Don Pedro had related,
that the figure, descending the opposite hill, was the knight of
Calavar, on his ancient war-horse,--an apparition, perhaps, but no St.
James,--unless this heavenly patron had condescended to appear in the
likeness of a knight so valiant and so pious. Strange fancies beset him,
and so great was his impatience to resolve the marvel, that he scarce
waited to behold the general balance his good spear, before he turned
his horse, and spurred furiously backward.
Meanwhile, the black horseman descended with such violence upon the
footmen, as threatened their instant destruction, his fierce eyes, as
the Christians thought, gleaming with the fires of hell; so that,
notwithstanding the sudden relief coming in the person of the supposed
saint, they were seized with horror, and gave way before him. At the
moment when he rushed among them, uttering what seemed the _Lelilee_ of
another land, he was encountered by his celestial opponent, whose strong
voice shouted out--"God and St. John! and down with thee, paynim demon!"
The shock of two such steeds, both of great weight, each bearing a man
cased in thick armour, each urged on by the impetus of descent from the
hills, and meeting, midway, in a narrow valley, was tremendous. At the
moment of encounter, the sable rider perceived, for the first time, his
opponent;--he checked his steed suddenly, and flung up his lance, as if
to avoid a contest. But the precaution came too late--his rising lance
struck the casque of his adversary, tearing it off, and revealing the
grim visage and grizzly locks of the knight of Calavar; while, at the
same moment, the spear of Don Gabriel, aimed with as much skill as
determination, smote the enemy on the lower part of the corslet, and
piercing it as a buckler of ice, penetrated, at once, to the bowels and
spine. The shock that unseated the riders, was shared by the steeds, and
horse and man rolled together on the earth.
The loud cry of "Calavar! the Penitent Knight! the valiant Don Gabriel!"
set up by the bewildered and awe-struck infantry, reached the ears of
the novice. He spurred on with new ardour, and reaching the footmen just
as they divided in pursuit of the flying barbarians, he sprung from his
horse, and beheld his kinsman lying senseless, and as it appeared to
him, lifeless, in the arms of the wounded Baltasar.
"In the name of heaven, and Amen! what is this? and what do I see?" he
cried. "Oh heaven, is this my knight?--and doth he live?"
"He lives," said Baltasar, "and he feels as of flesh and blood; and yet
did he die on the lake-side. God forgive us our sins! for neither heaven
nor hell will hold the dead!"
Just at that moment, the knight opened his eyes, and rolled them on his
kinsman,--but his kinsman regarded him not. A low moaning voice of one
never to be forgotten, fell on the ear of the novice, as he gazed on his
friend; and starting up, he beheld, hard by, the page Jacinto, lying on
the body of Abdalla, from whose head he had torn the helm, and now
strove, with feeble fingers, to remove the broken and blood-stained
corslet.
"Jacinto!--Leila!" cried Amador, with a voice of rapture, flinging
himself at her side, (for now, though the garments of escaupil still
concealed the figure of the Moorish maid, the disguise could be
continued no longer.) The joy of the cavalier vanished, for the maiden
replied only with lamentations; while the Zegri fixed upon him an eye,
in which the stony hardness of death was mingled with the fires of
human passion.
"Place my head upon thine arm, cavalier!" said Abdalla, faintly, "and
let me look upon him who has slain me."
"Oh, my father! my father!" cried the Moorish girl.
"God forbid that thou shouldst die, even for the sake of the maiden I
love," exclaimed Amador, eagerly, supporting his head. "Thou art a Wali,
a Christian, and the father of her that dwells in my heart. Live,
therefore; for though thou have neither land nor people, neither home
nor friends, neither brother nor champion, yet am I all to thee; for I
crave the love of thy daughter."
The maiden sobbed, and heard not the words of the cavalier; but the
dying Moor eyed her with a look of joy, and then turning his gaze upon
Amador, said,--
"God be thy judge, as thou dealest truly with her, who, although the
offspring of kings, is yet an orphan, landless, homeless, and friendless
on the earth."
"I swear to thee," said the novice,--"and I protest----"
"Protest me nothing: hearken to my words, for they are few; the angel of
death calls to me to come, and my moments fly from me like the
blood-drops," said the Zegri. "Until the day, when I dreamed thou wert
slumbering in the lake, I knew not of this that hath passed between ye.
Had it been known to me, perhaps this death that comes to me, might not
have come; for, what I did, I did for the honour and weal of my child,
knowing that, in the hand of Spaniards, she was in the power of
oppressors and villains. That I have struck for revenge, is true; I have
shed the blood of Castilians and rejoiced, for therein I reckoned me the
vengeance of Granada. Yet, had it been apparent to me, that the feeble
maid, who, besides myself, knew no other protector of innocence in the
world, could have claimed the love of an honourable cavalier, and
enjoyed it without the shame of disguise and menial occupation, then had
I submitted to my fate, and locked up in the darkness of my heart, the
memory of the Alpujarras."
"Who speaks of the Alpujarras?" cried the knight of Rhodes, staring
wildly around; "who speaks of the Alpujarras?"
"_I!_" said the Moor, with a firm voice, bending his eye on Don Gabriel,
and striving, though in vain, for his nether limbs were paralyzed, to
turn his body likewise; "_I_ Gabriel of Calavar, _I_ speak of the
Alpujarras; and good reason have I to speak, and thou to listen; for I
was of the mourning, and thou of the destroyers."
"Pity me, heaven!" cried the knight, staring on the Moor, in the
greatest disorder. "I have seen thee, and yet I know thee not."
"Rememberest thou not the field of Zugar, and the oath sworn on the
cross of a blood-stained sword, by the river-side?"
"Hah!" cried Don Gabriel; "dost thou speak of mine oath?--mine oath to
Alharef?"
"And the town of Bucarcs, among the hills?" continued the Zegri, loudly,
and with a frown made still more ghastly by approaching death; "dost
thou remember the false and felon blow that smote the friend of
Zugar,--and that, still falser and fouler, which shed the blood of
Zayda, the beloved of the Alpujarras?"
As the Wali spoke, the knight, as if uplifted by some supernatural
power, rose to his feet, and approached the speaker, staring at him with
eyes of horror. At the name of Zayda, he dropt on his knees crying,--
"Miserere mei, Deus! I slew her! and thou that art Alharef, though
struck down by the same sword, yet livest thou again to upbraid me!"
"Struck down by thy steel, yet not then, but now!" exclaimed the Moor.
"I live again, but not to upbraid thee--I am Alharef-ben-Ismail, and I
forgive thee."
At this name, already made of such painful interest to the novice, his
astonishment was so great, that, as he started, he had nearly suffered
the dying prince (for such were the Walis of Moorish Spain,) to fall to
the earth. He caught him again in his arms, and turned his amazed eye
from him to Don Gabriel, who, trembling in every limb, still stared with
a distracted countenance on that of his ancient preserver.
"I am Alharef, and, though dying, yet do I live," went on the Zegri,
interrupted as much by the wails of his daughter, as by his own
increasing agonies. "The sword wounded, but it slew not--it slew not
_all_--Zayda fell, yet live I, to tell thee, thou art forgiven. Rash
man! rash and most unhappy! thine anger was unjust; and therefore didst
thou shed the blood of the good, the pure, the loving and the beautiful,
and thereby cover thyself, and him that was thy true friend, with
misery. When thou soughtest the love of Zayda, she was the betrothed of
Alharef. Miserable art thou, Gabriel of Calavar! and therefore have I
forgiven thee; miserable art thou, for I have watched thee by night, and
looked upon thee by day, and seen that the asp was at work in thy bosom,
and that the fire did not slumber. Great was thy sin, but greater is thy
grief; and therefore doth Zayda, who is in heaven, forgive thee."
"She pardons me not," murmured Don Gabriel, not a moment relaxing the
steadfast eagerness of his stare. "At the pyramid of Cholula, on the
anniversary of her death, she appeared to me in person, and, O God! with
the beauty of her youth and innocence, yet robed in the blackness of
anger!"
"And have thine eyes been as dark as the looks of the lover?" cried
Alharef. "Stand up, Zayda, the child of Zayda! or turn thy face upon
Calavar, that his delusion may leave him."
As he spoke, he lifted feebly the arm which embraced his child, removed
the cap, and parted the thick clustering locks from her forehead.
Still, however, did she look rather the effeminate boy, upon whom
Calavar had been accustomed to gaze, than a woman;--for there is no
effort of imagination stronger than that required to transform, in the
mind, the object which preserves an unchanging appearance to the eye.
Nevertheless, though such a transformation could not be imagined by Don
Gabriel, there came, as he wistfully surveyed the pallid features of the
maiden, strange visions and memories, which, every moment, associated a
stronger resemblance between the living and the dead. He trembled still
more violently, heavy dew-drops started from his brow, and he gazed upon
the weeping girl as upon a basilisk.
"Wherefore," continued the Zegri, speaking rapidly, but with broken
accents,--"when I had resolved to fly to the pagans, as being men whom,
I thought, God had commissioned me to defend from rapine and slavery. I
resolved to take such advantage of their credulity, as might best enable
me to befriend them,--I say, wherefore I resolved this, I need not
speak. I protected my child, by recommending her to their superstition;
and, had I fallen dead in the streets, still did I know, that reverence
and fear would wait upon the steps of one whom I delivered to them as a
messenger from heaven. In this light, I revealed her to the princes at
the temple, when----"
"It is enough!" muttered Don Gabriel, with the deep and agitated tones
of sorrow; "I wake from a dream.--God forgive me! and thou art of the
blood of Zayda? the child of her whom I slew?--Alharef forgives me; he
says, that Zayda forgives me; but thou that art her child, dost _thou_
forgive me?"
"Father! dear father, she doth!" cried Amador, gazing with awe on the
altered countenance of Alharef, and listening with grief to the moans of
Zayda. "O holy padre!" he exclaimed, perceiving the priest Olmedo
rising, at a little distance, from the side of a man, to whom he had
been offering the last consolations of religion,--"Hither, father, for
the love of heaven, and absolve the soul of a dying Christian!"
"Is there a priest at my side?" said the Zegri, reviving from what
seemed the lethargy of approaching dissolution, and looking eagerly into
the face of the good Olmedo. Then, turning to Amador, he said solemnly,
though with broken words, "Thou lovest the orphan Zayda?"
"Heaven be my help, as I do," replied the cavalier.
"And thou, Gabriel, that wert my friend, and standest in the light of
this young man's parent,--dost thou consent that he shall espouse the
daughter of Zayda, saved, while a piteous infant, by Christian men, from
out the house of death?"
The knight bowed his head on his breast, and strove to answer, but, in
his agitation, could not speak a word.
"Quick, father! for heaven's sake, quick!" cried Alharef, eagerly; "let
me, ere I die, know that my child rests on the bosom of a husband.
Quick! for the sand runs fast; and there is that in my bosom, which
tells me of death. Love and honour thy bride; for thou hast the last and
noblest relic of Granada. Take her--thou wert her protector from harsh
words and the violence of blows. Quick, father, quick! quick, for mine
eyes are glazing!"
The strangely timed and hurried ceremony was hastened by the
exclamations of Alharef; and the words of nuptial benediction were, at
last, hurriedly pronounced.
"I see thee not, my child!" muttered the Moor, immediately after. "My
blessing to thee, Amador,--Gabriel, thou art forgiven.--Thine arm round
my neck, Zayda; thy lips to mine. Would that I could see thee!--Get thee
to Granada, with thy lord--to the tomb of thy mother--I will follow
thee--Tarry not in this land of blood--I will be with thee; we have a
power yet in the hills----"
"Let the cross rest on thy lips, if thou diest a Christian," said the
father.
The novice drew the maiden aside; the Zegri pressed the sacred symbol to
his lips, but still they muttered strangely of Granada.
"I am of the faith of Christ, and Mahomet I defy. My people shall be
followers of the cross, but they shall sweep away the false Spaniard, as
the wind brushes away the leaves.--The Emir of Oran is prepared--the
king of Morocco will follow.--A power in the hills--Ah!--We will creep,
by night, to Granada--a brave blow!--Africa shall follow--Ha, ha!--Seize
the gates! storm the Alhambra!--but spare life--kill no women!--Remember
Zayda!----"
With such wild words, accompanied by the faint cries of his daughter,
the spirit of the Moor passed away, and Alharef-ben-Ismail lay dead in
the land of strangers.
Don Gabriel uttered a deep groan, and fell across the feet of his
ancient friend.
At this moment, Cortes descended from his horse, and, followed by other
cavaliers, stepped up to the lamenting group.
"And Calavar, the valiant, has been murdered by this traitor Moor!" he
cried.
"Senor Don Hernan," said the novice, sternly, and as he spoke, rising
from the earth, and folding the Moorish maiden to his heart, "you speak
of him who was Alharef-ben-Ismail, a Wali of Granada, driven by the
injustice of our companions, and in part, by your own harshness, to take
arms against you. As one that am now his representative, and, as I may
say, his son, I claim for him the honourable burial of a Christian
soldier; and, after that, will hold myself prepared, with sword and
spear, to defend his memory from insult."